‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged. An audible crack sounded in the kitchen and Mark slumped backwards, unconscious. She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know. Then he paused. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door.
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