Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. I worshipped women long before I found any woman I might ever hope to worship. My janizaries shall go with me. ‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. Perhaps I am still mad. If not, I'll take a cheerful glass with you at the City of Oxford, on my way to Tyburn. Leave the rest to me. There is no future for me here.
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