The Dowager Duchess of Chamberlain, after offering her farewell, moved toward the banquet hall. A maid who had bowed to her soon passed by Windsor.
He stood there blankly, watching the Duchess’s retreating figure.
As if he were bewitched.
Or perhaps… as if he had finally found the bluebird he had been searching for all along—right in his own home.
As Windsor rubbed his chin with his dry hand, Jacqueline’s smiling face surfaced in his mind—the one where she had said, “I knew it would turn out this way.”
He let out a faint chuckle.
A softened voice slipped through his fingers as he stroked his chin.
“Perhaps… she was right.”
Mrs. Brown’s house could hardly be called a mansion, but it was the largest in the area. With five servants, she could at least be considered fairly wealthy.
The red-brick house looked crude compared to the refined interiors of…
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Emilybronte
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