It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. He suggested they take the remains of the household to his country estate, where he could at least hunt through the winter to provide them venison and grouse.
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