God in Heaven, she really doesn’t realize what she’s like when she’s bearing down on some poor soul, Bridget thought. Aloud, she said, “Cats don’t react well to, um, to . . .” She faltered and looked over at Benedict, silently pleading for help. “Gwenness,” Benedict said. Gwen lifted an eyebrow. “In what way, precisely, did you mean that remark, coz?” “In precisely every way,” Benedict replied. “Your diplomatic efforts so far have consisted of instigating a duel, threatening detachment of Fleet Marines with charges of treason, throwing away a tidy little fortune in bribes, and abruptly
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