Martha had not been pleased to find her spare one borrowed for that expedition when the major had found her outside the ballroom. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. Endless complications ensue when both sisters return to London.
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