She closed her eyes as if asleep, her hands folded neatly on her abdomen. There will be no avoiding it. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. She had been warned time and time again by Sebastian that fame would mean the end of her freedom, being hounded in to the next lifetime by vampire and power seekers. The Procession to Tyburn 462 XXXII.
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