But I don't look for peace on this side the grave. It suited him to dampen the spirits of any who sought to impose upon him, as these relics of the loathed family of Valade seemed like to do. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. ‘A convenient desire, Mademoiselle Charvill. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her.
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