She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. I hated him. She ran from the knave into the women’s quarters. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved.
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