” A spot of colour flared in Anna’s cheek as she glanced towards the speaker. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. Miching Mallecho. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. We were properly married, and the certificate is at my lawyer’s. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. "Thanks. You are my prisoner, murderer.
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