Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John. “Like what, Lucy?” She saw the panic threaten to overtake him. “For great passions, for great accomplishments. \" Lucy winced. This obstacle removed, he thought he might now make the attempt. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble.
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