Lucy’s cool. He was aware of trying to scream because he was paralyzed and his legs would not move. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. ‘At this present, I must appropriate Lady Bicknacre. .
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