His eyes glowed beneath the glasses and his blue buttondown shirt was reflected in the lenses. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. Lucilla clearly adored her betrothed, anyone could see that. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. ‘What is it that you told him?’ ‘Nothing, miss, I swear.
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