" "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. "With me?" said Thames. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. ’ I received strange looks from them. "I wish to overtake Lady Trafford. Squire and master.
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