” She said. “Dear John,” she whispered. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Turning to Melusine, he grabbed both her wrists and held her away from him, as if afraid that she might go for him. No one seeing you together could doubt that she is your granddaughter. ’ ‘Addlepated imbecile, Hilary,’ corrected Gerald calmly. He disappeared after getting my foster sister Traci pregnant.
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