Her eyes flashed and she withdrew the dagger, pulling away from him. ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. She obeyed, extending her arm. But then the features changed. “Mr. .
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