More importantly, she had her wits. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. He left the room, presumably to sleep elsewhere, but the only other room with a fire was the servant’s quarters. , and get some other man to live on as soon as possible. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. But one changes the style of one's clothes yearly. And I’d do it again for you if needs be.
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