Then she looked up at Brendon. ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood. Killed is too kind a word. ” Brendon laughed softly. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. It was easy to discern Gianfrancesco’s mood.
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