Was anything missed after the lad's departure, Sir Rowland?" "Not that I'm aware of," said the knight. Michelle looked at Lucy knowingly. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man.
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