His face brightened at the sight of her, and he came toward her. Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye.
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