Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Kneebone, are these your French noblemen?" "Don't upbraid me!" rejoined the woollen-draper. With each step his heartbeat increased exponentially. ‘Because,’ said Lady Bicknacre in the confidential manner of all matrons when passing on a tidbit of scandal, ‘Nicholas married against his father’s wishes and ran away. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him.
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