Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. ‘What else do you expect? It’s the penalty you pay for marrying an Englishman. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. “He says you are frigid, Madame. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. E.
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