A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. “Hola, Michelle. When she finally did take her own lover, it was not with a member of the household staff. Celeste introduced him to me—oh, how Celeste hated me! She must have known. The gong will go at seven-thirty. It stunned her.
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