I’m sorry. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said. You have to marry me. I drew out what I had saved and boarded the first ship out.
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