A quick flush stained her cheeks. If only to say goodbye. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. His head turned sideways towards the noise, his brows scowling. “Our interest lies in heading them off. A fever of shame ran through her being. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. .
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