He had heard everything. ‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. ‘Bête.
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