” “Thank you. ” “Give me your blessing? I didn’t ask for it. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. . . 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. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek.
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