Spurlock halted in his tracks. ” Her hands fell to her side. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. "I need not remind you, Sir Rowland, that I am aware you are deeply implicated in the Jacobite plot which is now known to be hatching. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep.
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