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. And Capes was thinking that his wife was a supremely beautiful woman. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. I’m sorry.
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