“Dear John,” she whispered. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. Take my advice. “Why should it matter?” he said. . Fire; she was full of it.
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