‘Lover’s tiff indeed. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. She had come to the end of her resources. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. I’m damaged goods.
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