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"Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. She remembered that she had not gone to bed until two o'clock in the morning. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. He turned just in time to see Lucilla exchange an amused look with Hilary.
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