And love certainly does not signify in the match the Featherton sisters are making for me. True, when Lord St. Albans and I first met, he fair took my breath away. But after we accidentally ran him down with our carriage, I became convinced he belongs to that most despicable class of men: rakes. His arrogance is insufferable...except when he appears so shy and considerate that I almost think St. Albans is two different men. But that cannot be possible. Or can it?
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