“Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. That wasn’t even the worst thing. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course.
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