He kissed her at the door. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. He smiled. ‘Gerald had to change both shirt and breeches. ’ He threw one arm across his own chest and clapped himself on the shoulder. Farewell.
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