Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. ‘I understand you have not been in England very long,’ he said in English, noting that Madame raised her fan and lowered her gaze demurely. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall.
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