I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. 13 with a latchkey went humming lightly up to her room. “I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now.
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