“Lady Mackinnor,” she said, “I am sure that you must have heard of Mr. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. It was Sebastian’s fault for slapping her face and letting the baby out. I care not. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. The estates must, ere long, revert to Sir Rowland.
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