Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. Abruptly he gripped her wrist. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly.
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