She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. ‘Can’t you see he is not a gentleman with whom one can argue?’ ‘You think so?’ Melusine said dangerously, and her eyes flashed as she swept about again and confronted her grandfather once more. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved.
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