‘How is your plan now, mon brave?’ Melusine taunted. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf.
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