She disengaged her hands and stood up. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. I didn’t understand. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. She was as lovely in the spirit as in the flesh.
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