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Annet could not have predicted Denzil Raymont’s next move . . .
BY PENE
DEB LUCKETT set out their last meal in London on a polished table, with plates and shining glasses. There was a baked pie wafting steam into the air. “A pity we cannot entertain your Mr Crago in bette
Civil War IT was a bright morning. Annet took her young son by the hand and led him to where his new clothes were spread. Harry’s aunt Grace and his grandfather were there, as were so many helpers. Ha
JEM looked back through the trees just once as he was marched from Chy Noweth. Catching sight of Annet’s slender figure among those anxiously huddled on the steps had an oddly comforting effect, for i
THE clatter of kitchen pots quietened as Mawgan came in. Even servants farthest from the door stopped their chatter to hear what news he brought. But Deb only became aware of him later. “I’m glad to s
And so it was that the fair Lady Joanna spurned her betrothed and fled from the castle in the dead of night, her faithful man-at-arms by her side. Off the lovers ran, into the depths of Howe Acre wood
IT was a fine, windy day in September, and Rosalind Aston had an odd feeling that she was in love. The emotion was new, and she could not be sure, but she luxuriated in it as she walked towards the ha