" "We'll be waiting for you. ” She replied, smiling awkwardly. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. But next moment, Captain Roding put up her back. ’ She turned quickly away that her feelings might not be obvious to Lucy and her great-aunt. ’ ‘She?’ scoffed Martha.
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