H’m. “Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me. He embraced her like her father once had. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached.
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