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... on the edge of nightfall, while the garden’s pathway lights had been lit, their pale glow casting a faint yellow tint against the windows of the study.
A tall, commanding figure of a man stood by the window, cigarette held loosely between his fingers, its embers still burning. The atmosphere was suffocatingly cold.
Delphine pushed the door open with force and rushed inside, her voice hoarse as she called out, "Ignatius Leclair."
She rarely called his name. Since returnin ...
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