Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. Lucia dismissed the rumors, as it was not likely an archbishop would renege on his duties to become her personal doctor. When she awoke from a pleasant dream an hour later, she was shocked to find herself restrained in a bed that was not hers and not the inn’s. “Goodnight. . ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. ‘What?’ Roding snapped, coming quickly to tower above the window seat. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. He was scarcely concealed when he heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride back. I am shockingly poor.
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