“Julian Blackthorn,” sneered Dearborn. “My daughter told me about you—your uncle was mad, your whole family’s mad, only a madman would find this a good idea—” “Do not,” said Annabel, and her voice rang out clear and strong, “speak that way to him. He is my blood kin.” “Blackthorns,” said Dearborn. “Seems they’re all mad, dead, or both!”
That's SO RUDE.
