“Did you find someone else?” I jump topics and ask. He frowns. “Find someone else where?” “In New York?” His frown deepens and I explain, “You shouldn’t have blurted out your secret to a room full of maids if you didn’t want it to travel everywhere. Besides, I already knew you weren’t at Oxford. Such a stupid lie. Like you’d ever go to Oxford. To study, no less.” Something about that melts his body and makes him smile. His palms creep up my back. He pulls back my hood, freeing my hair, and his fingers curl around the strands, playing with them. The gesture is so cozy that something squeezes in
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