’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. ’ ‘What offer?’ she asked, suspicion rife in her voice. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. Later, there will be fever, after I've got his heart pumping.
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