Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father. God help me. He winced from the wasp-like sting. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. Anna was unimpressed. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch.
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