She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. And now her father said she must not go. “We won’t. But why this part of the plan now seemed to her quite unattractive was a question she did not care to examine too closely.
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