His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. I have yet another. . A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. “Won’t you tell me why you have come to England?” she said.
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