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His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. I understand. I—listen. "Here!" shrieked Lady Trafford. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. "Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup.
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