“Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. "Judging from what you tell me, I've no doubt he's the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance.
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