His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. ‘Come, mademoiselle, it is of no use to conceal anything from me, you know. She had but to choose. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. Lead the lad to suppose that he'll be introduced to Lady Trafford.
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