Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. Two persons possessing a more comfortable stock of assurance could not be readily found. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. ‘Her purpose, if you will believe me, is to get herself a dowry so that she may marry an Englishman. .
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