He smiled. Daughters were not like sons. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. “I’d give anything to kiss your neck. The risk I run is nothing to yours. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Besides ——” She stopped short. He may not know you’re in England, but if he has the smallest knowledge of your character, he must surely be expecting you. In your heart you know very well that this is absurd.
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