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, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. ’ Then she whisked from the room, hearing Lucilla utter a delighted squeal as she closed the door behind her. Perhaps in two or three weeks.
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