“How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. Wild," edged in Quilt. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. "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. Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her.
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