She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. ‘How is your plan now, mon brave?’ Melusine taunted. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. ’ Lucilla eyed him with one of those particularly feminine looks it was difficult for a mere male to interpret.
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