miscalculation.”
Norah looked at the fire, feeling the warmth finally seep into her very bones. She thought of Agatha waiting in her silk gowns for the carriage to return with a weeping stepdaughter. She thought of the £50. She thought of the silence of the library.
“Do you have a pen, your grace?” Norah asked, meeting his gaze with a cold, bright spark continue reading …
