“I do blame you,” he said, backing away from her. “Make no mistake.” She pursued him. In this, unwilling to let him hide. “Then blame me. They have nothing to do with it. And I expect you to fix this.” It was an impossible request. Once the gossip rags had their teeth in a tale, they held on until it was dead. She knew that. She and her sisters had been called the Soiled S’s since her coal-baron father had come down from Newcastle with five beauties in tow. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before, Sera.” The words were a mistake. She turned on him, and he saw the rage in her face.
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