Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. This was good. ” Sir John clutched at the table with both hands. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. ” “You fellows,” Ennison said quietly, “are getting a little wild. ” He was a little uneasy. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. Wild's. "I've the Bridewell account to settle.
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