A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. “Lady Ferringhall, sir. Perhaps you'll next inform us why you have occasioned this disturbance. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then.
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