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Keep the good deputy governor busy. Metallic footsteps clattering up the ladder preceded Taylor. Fraser is our sole voice in these matters. He paused, studying her wide eyes, aware of the slim fingers resting in his, aware of the demon too close to his surface. They were, she was perfectly certain, no longer talking about mere waltzing. Antonia felt each beat of her heart, felt the shallowness of each breath. She knew the male of the species found her significantly more than passably attractive. Logan was, in that respect, typical of his kind. And the more he recalled of the man he was-cavalry commander, gentleman-the more his code of honor would become entrenched.
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It was attractive country, Pyke thought, as he looked down on the tiny hamlet from his vantage point on ground that rose gently up from the Blackwater river. In one direction, four miles away through estate land and orchards and beyond sporadic dwellings linked by hedge-lined tracks, was the village of Loughgall. Nothing connected with a mark-or suspect-faster than sympathy. Besides, facts were facts…the woman had been a bitch. He wandered the store ostensibly looking at merchandise while eyeing the back wall and its bead-covered doorway. Mara, his namesake, the Evil One, lord of the upper sky, god of transient pleasures in heaven and hell-- the name was his because they had seen his promise from the beginning, as a shy, intense kid who never smiled. He had fulfilled that promise and now he was ready.
I picked them up and looked at the deposits. It was true that there were no large amounts. The most activity occurred in the accounts belonging to Hourdakis and his son. I saw regular deposits of 250,000 and 300,000, but no more than that. It was clear now what was going on. Vanessa was too wealthy and well connected to take on directly, but attacking the museum was a different matter. Everyone who knew Vanessa, knew the museum was like her child. To her relief, her aunt seemed to accept the weak excuse. Despite her often outrageous machinations, Lucilla was ever supportive, always protective.
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Maybe she should have confided in her. No why add that burden to her, particularly when she was already still upset. Whatever the reason behind this mother-daughter talk, it had something to do with Mom crying earlier, she knew it. Sitting up, she tried hard to make out the muffled conversation. Life was going to be interesting when the Marquis returned to town. She was not entirely looking forward to her next private meeting with him, foreseeing a certain awkwardness in explaining why she had behaved as she had. But she would rather have faced it sooner than later. Unfortunately she could do nothing but wait and, with so many people endeavouring to please her, she felt it would be churlish to complain, even though her enthusiasm for fashionable pursuits had waned. She might have guessed, had she thought of him at all, that Edward Buchanan would, like a distempered ghost, return to haunt her. He had heard of the encounter in the Park and had listened with interest to the speculation on the outcome. Then she ducked her head as she got into the car and closed the door, and Will could only watch in desolation as Roger drove her away. The flat smelt musty and unused, and even when she had switched on the lights the rooms seemed cheerless. Perhaps it was something to do with the dreary drizzle and the muted grey light of a wet Spring afternoon, she thought, and tried not to think of the aching blue ocean, the mint-green lagoon and the vivid colours of hibiscus and bougainvillaea. This was the home she had worked hard for, the home she had been insistent she wanted to come back to. It represented everything she had ever wanted: security, stability, being settled at last.