Wood. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. She dismissed the idea of doing so. But stand by and hear such things said about my late mistress’s daughter, I won’t.
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