She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. ‘That’s a loud one. Wait a second. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. ” He smiled at her. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield.
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