“I want a vote for myself,” she said. Danger, the most terrible she had ever faced, was substantially in this room. Wood and Thames taking their places on either side of it, and Jack at a little distance behind. Sheppard. Lucy could see her striding down a Parisian catwalk quite easily. He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. He could think about it later.
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