“Now are you going to tell me who hurt you?” “It was your highwayman.” “Ah. I take it he won’t be lending us a helpful hand, then?” “Oh, he’ll be lending us a hand. I guarantee it. Marian, who is he? He did not react well to the sound of my father’s name.” Percy gestured at his bruise. “I imagine the country, if not the entire hemisphere, is filled with people who become consumed with a murderous rage when they hear of the Duke of Clare.” “True,” he said. But Marian’s response hadn’t really been an answer to the question he had asked. “Does this man have a special reason to hate the duke?”
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