‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. Lucy was charmed; how peaceful the baby looked. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions.
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