Lucy aimed the firearm at Rhea’s chest. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. She expanded that. You thanked me tersely, then, barely noticing my existence you went right back to your conversation! I was somewhat crushed but my spirits were lifted when the butcher revealed who your husband-to-be was. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her.
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