![]() ![]() “Told you,” Lydia said with an impish grin far removed from her Madonna smile. Even in this less than felicitous area of town, no one would even think of offering her an insult. She radiated such an exquisite innocence that no one would dare. None of the landlords and butchers and greengrocers ever took advantage of Lydia’s delicate beauty. He didn’t realize he was being played until the door was firmly closed behind him and Elinor could sneak up the stairs, grateful that she hadn’t had to defend Lydia’s honor if M. Picot was destroyed, awash with apologies and assurances. All Lydia had to do was let tears fill her limpid blue eyes and make her Cupid’s bow mouth tremble and M. Monsieur Picot had no patience for either her or her mother, but her baby sister was a different matter. Elinor Harriman arrived home just as her sister, Lydia, had finished dealing with their landlord, and she ducked out of sight so the old lecher wouldn’t see her. The visit with the lawyer had not gone well. ![]()
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