Think, ma’am. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers. She cocked her head. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife. She began to weep in long, aching sobs.
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