Afterward he stole out of the room with the bloodstained sheet to boast her virginity to his brothers and father, which only truly mattered because she was beautiful, her mother had said. She was not Madame Melusine Valade. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre.
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