He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. It never is. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind.
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