Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Pray, walk in. Hill was seated. ” He retorted smartly, looking at her with mischief. ‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening.
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