As Melusine approached the door, she saw Kimble speed up. “Go on,” he said. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat.
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