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... y the same trembling pageboy who’d fetched Beatrice from the stables.
Her presence was requested in the eastern receiving wing. No reason given, no hint of urgency. But the signature, elegant, looping, and unmistakably Queen Cecile’s, left little room for interpretation.
When Beatrice arrived, she was not alone.
Johanna was already seated by the open windows, her gown a delicate lilac trimmed with ivory ribbon. She offered a soft smile as Beatrice entered, warm as always. ...
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