She had even tried a needle and a catheter on a victim once, but had found that the process was so frustrating and slow that she barely gained any sustenance and had done the worst thing imaginable: wasted a kill. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. “Get me some brandy and my bag. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. ‘You have the means to take up your rightful place. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine.
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