Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over.
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