She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. But it was of no avail. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. It is I who took the burden of your misdeeds upon my shoulders that you might become Lady Ferringhall. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. She hated the manor. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. ” “Well, tell me.
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