Just so had his subordinates shown their apprehension. “There is my aunt,” she said. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. What he told the vicomte I was not privileged to learn.
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