He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now. 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. Yet I think that he will do it. I wonder ——” “London is a huge place,” Brendon said. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend. ” She whispered. ’ ‘That I do not doubt,’ Gerald muttered drily, but added in a tone of intense satisfaction, ‘Then this husband is still in France? Excellent.
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