Monday: The scamp.
Robert had spent too many evenings in London listening to Helen tease and
reprove her husband, while Gunthar let her tweak him to her heart’s content.
Tuesday: The
darkness muffled Robert’s voice, or perhaps it only sounded thus through the
smothering tightness in Gunthar’s chest.
Wednesday: She
thought for the briefest instant that Strode’s lips twitched away from his
teeth in the glimmer of a snarl before the smile settled again.
Thursday: His cold
eyes lifted and gazed into Marguerite’s with such malicious satisfaction that
she knew. Robert had been among the fallen.
Friday: Her mind
raced to Sarah with a horror for her friend’s grief that Marguerite would not
have comprehended an hour ago.
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