His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. ‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. ” “I know. ” Lucy coolly marveled as she studied the girl’s face, belly swollen from pregnancy.
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