You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. Through all he said ran one quality that pleased her—the quality of a man who feels that things can be done, that one need not wait for the world to push one before one moved. The sharp point of the sword at the girl’s throat bit sideways.
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