"Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. I cannot think he will welcome a French émigré for his granddaughter. So now I will say nothing more to you, and you will please to say nothing more to me, for I do not reply. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. Just so had his subordinates shown their apprehension. A few random students gawked at them in the hall. Proof that the scoundrel had risen from the dead—for he was dead to his father! He glared at the female whose appearance in England had revived those painful memories—churning unbearably since Brewis Charvill had brought him the news and put him in the worst of tempers—and the fury spilled out. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered.
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