He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel. She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. “Well, no,” she answered. We were properly married, and the certificate is at my lawyer’s. ‘You can’t go to England.
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