“Lady Lucie has a cat.” “Oh?” Lady Hampshire said. And nothing more. Her beady eyes, however, were sweeping over Lucie from head to toe, as though she had only just noticed her. Her mother leaned toward her, ever so slightly. “What breed?” she asked. “I wouldn’t know,” Lucie said slowly, a little alarmed at having her mother leaning in on her. “She’s black. She’s a foundling.” “Faith,” Professor Marlow said. “A barn cat—in the house?” “A misplaced cat, rather,” Lucie said. “Her attitude is far too entitled for a cat of humble beginnings.” The professor frowned, but her mother nodded, as though
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