She looked around the apartment for other people. “The truth!” Annabel bent over her and whispered in her sister’s ear. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. Wood. She was looking anxiously at the entrance to the restaurant. ’ Relaxing back, Gerald folded his arms. You can have no shecrets from me. Besides—there is Sir John. Kneebone, he took his departure.
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