Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. ’ ‘Unless it is Captain Roding,’ put in Lucilla Froxfield from the curved back sofa on the other side of the fireplace. He made a note of the idea and stored it away.
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