“Martin, I don’t know what to say. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. A fortnight passed, then a month. It is so that I may marry an Englishman. She pulled a few strands of her hair from her head to leave with Michelle’s. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. Wood; "and Blueskin, too. EPOCH THE FIRST, 1703.
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