“Mrs. Mitford to herself, as she was clasping the famous Mitford rubies about her neck Verena recognized Brandon’s voice instantly. She also recognized the fury in his tone. Without another thought, she bit his hand, nipping forcefully on the pad of his thumb. “Damn!” He yanked his hand free and shook it in the air as if trying to shake off the pain like so much dust, leaving only one arm imprisoning her. Verena lifted her foot and slammed it down on his instep. Thank heavens she was wearing her... good French heels. “Argh!” She was released instantly. Verena could have made her way to the door. She could have screamed, too, and brought Herberts and the rest of her scanty staff to the rescue. She could have, she told herself as she relit the lamp. The sight that met her eyes was infinitely gratifying. Brandon St. John was hopping up and down, waving his hand like a child who had mashed his thumb in a doorway. She bit her lip. It was sad that they were at such loggerheads, for she recognized in him a kindred spirit.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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