The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. "Kidnapped, and sent to France by one uncle, it was my lot to fall into the hands of another,—my father's own brother, the Marshal Gaucher de Chatillon; to whom, and to the Cardinal Dubois, I owed all my good fortune. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. ” She put her wrists upon his shoulders, feeling him surge with the pride of his own masculinity as she touched him. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. . "Speak English?" boomed the voice. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace.
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