“Expectations” (Book 2)– Ch. 11:  Lord Duncan’s Childhood Memories of his Brother Lord Alfred,   March 03, 2019  by Gratiana Lovelace (Post #1216)

“Expectations” (Book 2)– Ch. 11:  Lord Duncan’s Childhood Memories of his Brother Lord Alfred,   March 03, 2019  by Gratiana Lovelace  (Post #1216)

(an original Regency romance copyrighted by Gratiana Lovelace, 2018 – 2019; all rights reserved);  [(1) story cover art, left]

[As is my custom, from time to time  I will illustrate my story with my ideal cast consisting of (in order of appearance/mention in this chapter):  Crispin Bonham Carter as Lord Harold Blount younger brother of Lord Christian Blount the Earl of Sussex portrayed by Richard Armitage,  and older brother to their younger sister Lady Elizabeth Blount portrayed by Jessica Brown Findlay; Rupert Penry-Jones as Lord Duncan Viscount Lindsay; and Francesca Capaldi as Miss Tamsin]

Author’s story content and serializing scheduling notes:  For the most part, my ratings for the chapters will be PG-13—for romantic interludes and dramatic moments.  If you are unable or unwilling to attend a movie with these ratings, then please do not read that chapter.  This is my disclaimer.   And I always put the previous chapter’s brief recap at the top of the next chapter.  Also, I hope to post new chapters weekly on Sundays.  I hope that you enjoy this chapter.


“Expectations” Ch. 11:  Lord Duncan’s Childhood Memories of his Brother Lord Alfred

After the lovely Blount, Lindsay, and Knightsbridge families’ luncheon on the terrace of Sussex Hall Manor, they initially broke into two conversation groupings.  Lord Robert Knightsbridge Marquess of Wyre commandeered his sister Lady Constance Knightsbridge Lindsay and her daughter Miss Tamsin, whilst Lady Gwendolyn Lindsay of York tagged along. The other grouping now sitting inside in the large and comfortable Sussex Hall Manor parlor were the Blounts—Lord Christian and Lady Madeline the Earl and Countess of Sussex, Lord Harold, and Lady Elizabeth—and Lord Duncan Viscount Lindsay of York.

However, almost immediately upon the party sitting down on two facing settees to chat, a footman rushes in with a velum missive on a small silver tray.  Lord Christian raised his hand, but then retracts it as the footman goes to his younger brother Lord Harold sitting opposite him.

Footman: “T’were an express, My Lord.”  The footman bows deferentially.

Then the footman holds out the small silver tray and Lord Harold worriedly snatches the missive and the knife letter opener, then puts both the letter and the knife to the duel.

Lord Harold:  Quickly scanning the brief letter—knowing its elegant hand, even before he sees the signature—Lord Harold exclaims after reading the three spare lines of text.  “No!”  Then he jumps up and makes his apologies.  “Must go, it cannot wait, I hope that I am in time!”  Then without further explanation, Lord Harold bolts from the room.  He will have his valet pack his valise then ride like the devil to his dear one’s side.  His valet can follow with a closed carriage and his clothing trunks not long after.

Startled at their brother’s alacrity and the concern writ upon his face and in his voice, Lord Christian and Lady Elizabeth turn to each other with questioning expressions.

Lord Christian: “What the devil?”  Upon feeling his wife Lady Madeline’s gentle squeeze of his arm, he retracts his vulgar phrasing.  “My apology, Ladies.” He bows in chagrin for his breech of gentlemanliness.

Lady Elizabeth:  “No need, Christy.  But what is Harold about?  Do you know?”  For brothers tend to share more with each other, than brothers and sisters do.

Lord Christian: Shaking his head, Lord Christian shrugs his very large shoulders.  “I fear that I do not.”  Then he turns to Lady Madeline.  “But my Dearest Madeline, I beg that we return to the Dower House, should Harold need assistance or money for his journey.”  For Lord Christian had surmised that his brother’s journey might have need of funds.

So Lord Duncan Viscount Lindsay and Lady Elizabeth Blount of Sussex find themselves alone—but for a footman standing discreetly outside the open door of the parlor.

Lord Duncan: “Well!  I could not have maneuvered our being alone together better!”  He smiles teasingly.

Lady Elizabeth: “Oh you!”  She swats half-heartedly at his lower arm encased in a superfine blue wool jacket. “One would think that you constantly have nefarious designs for my seduction.”  Then she bats her eyelashes at him, trying to play the coquette again.

Lord Duncan: “There go your eye lashes twitching again, Elizabeth.  Are your eyes irritated?  Or are you as glad for our unchaperoned state as I am?”  He smiles broadly down at her sitting next to him upon the settee.  When her brother Lord Harold had sat on the other side of her, Lord Duncan’s seating placement was unremarkable.  But now?  Not so unremarkable.

Lady Elizabeth:  “Oh Duncan!  You will make me blush.”  She smiles sweetly, hopefully.

Lord Duncan: “Elizabeth!”  Lord Duncan utters in a husky whisper.  Then he kisses the top of her knuckles upon each of Lady Elizabeth’s hands, before turning her hands over and lingeringly kissing each palm of her hands. She shivers with his tender touch.

Then there are two strident knocks upon the open Parlor door—causing Lord Duncan and Lady Elizabeth to pull apart from each other, just in time.  A footman carries in a modified tea that Lady Madeline had ordered for Lady Elizabeth and Lord Duncan, just before she and Lord Christian departed for the Sussex Hall Dower House.  The footman noiselessly goes about his business setting the silver tray with tea and cakes and cups and saucer, upon the marble table in front of their Lady Elizabeth and their Summer guest Lord Lindsay, before departing and leaving them almost alone again, but for the footman standing sentry in the hallway outside the open parlor door.

Lady Elizabeth: “Tea, Duncan?”  She holds up the delicate sterling silver tea pot.

Lord Duncan:  His looks still smouldering in Lady Elizabeth’s direction, he nods.  “If we must.”

Lady Elizabeth: “It seems we must partake of tea, or quit this room and its small privacy afforded to us.”  She smiles cajolingly as she pours their tea—one lump of sugar and a splash of cream for him and two lumps of sugar with a splash of cream for her.

Lord Duncan:  He accepts her offering of tea without removing his gaze from her charming face.  “Indeed.  For if we were to have true privacy, I would kiss more than your knuckles, My Lady.” He whispers.

Lady Elizabeth: “My palms again?” She sighs.

Lord Duncan: “Even more.”  Lord Duncan’s eyes move to Lady Elizabeth’s luscious lips, then to the creamy column of her neck, and finally resting upon her creamy shoulders.  “Even more.”  He repeats himself, with obvious intent.

Lady Elizabeth:  Somewhat flustered, but also quite pleased, Lady Elizabeth sighs.  “That sounds most … welcome.”  She finally settles upon her neutral response.

Lord Duncan: “I am glad to hear it, My Lady.  But such liberties I will only partake of—for our mutual enjoyment—when we are wed.

Lady Elizabeth: “Oh Duncan!  Are you proposing to me?”  She quickly sets down her tea cup, glad that she was not in mid sip during his declaration—or she would have spewed the tea all over him in her surprise.

Lord Duncan: “Yes … and No!”

Lady Elizabeth:  “How can it be both?”  She asks in puzzlement.

Lord Duncan: “Yes, I want to marry you, with every fiber of my being needing to embrace you as your husband and lover.  To cherish you each day, seeing to our mutual happiness.”  The deep baritone of his voice could not smoulder more, thinks a trembling Lady Elizabeth.

Lady Elizabeth: “But?  There is always a but.”  She pouts cutely

Lord Duncan: “But.  I feel that I must bring you into my confidence about certain private family matters that greatly affect me–and by extension now you, as the architect of my heart’s happiness.”  He takes both of her hands in his again, drawing her closer to him.

Lady Elizabeth:  “Oh!”

Then Lord Duncan begins to share the connection of the York and Lancashire Dukedoms via his childhood memories of twenty years ago.  His voice deeply resonant in the telling.


Nearly twenty  years ago in 1797, as the flowing tide begins to threaten their sand castles, the two children who had made their families wait expectantly for one of their designs to be proven a true one–and last the longest with the coming watery tidal onslaught.  The two noble families watching and at play represent the Duke York and the Duke of Lancashire families.  And they are enjoying a holiday at the sea shore near Scarborough at an estate of the Duke of York’s.

Ten year old Lord Alfred Lindsay, the Marquess of Malten—the elder child by two years and heir to the Duke of York—fidgets restlessly as he awaits his sand castle’s fate.  By contrast, eight year old Lady Constance Knightsbridge—daughter to the Duke of Lancashire–calmly sits in a ladylike pose four feet behind her sand castle [(2) below] with her gracefully clasped hands and a hopeful smile.

Sitting on the sidelines with Lord Alfred’s parents, is Lord Alfred’s four year old brother Lord Duncan, the Viscount Lindsay—who plays happily with the sand, scooping and piling up the sand, but none of the sand piles he makes resemble anything discernable—let alone sand castles.  And the Duchess of York cradles their baby daughter Lady Gwendolyn in her arms.

Young Lord Alfred:  “Connie, I am going to win!”  Looking over at his opponent, he states confidently, even if he does not feel confident about the outcome–since no one can predict nor control the vagaries of the incoming tide.

Young Lady Constance:  “We shall see.”  Her eyes gleam eagerly with a knowing smile.  Boys may like to think that they will win, but disappointment must sometimes be their fate, she thinks.

Little Lady Constance is a picture of sweetness in her adapted play outfit of a shortish light blue pinafore over a short sleeved and ruffled round necked white blouse, all over boyish style light blue pantalettes the same fabric as her pinafore and with legs edged with a white ruffle above each knee.  Her Mama Duchess learned long ago that when her active daughter plays out of doors climbing trees, or mucking about in mud or sand—as is the case today—practical clothing for her little girl is best.

While young Lord Alfred is most boyishly dressed simply for play in also a short sleeved white shirt and tan short pants—but with no ruffles in evidence.

The little Lord Duncan’s notice is caught by the waves seeming to increase in volume and speed with which they advance upon the shore.

Lord Duncan:  Pointing  urgently to the incoming  tidewaters, Lord Duncan says self importantly—as most four year olds do. “Water is coming!”

Lord Alfred:  “Oh, well spotted, Duncan.”  He sneers as only a ten year old can.  For Lord Alfred loves his much younger brother, but until Duncan becomes more interesting—riding, climbing trees, speaking in complex sentences, and building sand castles—Lord Alfred has little patience for him.

Lady Constance:  “Now, our sand castle designs will be tested.”  She announces with the grandeur beyond her years, and usually relegated to great engineering feats.

Lord Alfred:  “Yes, and when I win, what will you give me as my prize, Connie?”

She thinks on this for a moment, then brightens.

Lady Constance:  “A fine  linen handkerchief, that I will embroider your initials upon.”

Lord Alfred: “What need have I for a linen handkerchief?”  He asks pouting.

Lady Constance:  “Well, it would go a long way to reducing the need for laundering your shirt sleeves quite so often.”  She counters tartly.  She has long noticed the nose expulsion stains on Lord Alfred’s sleeves, and she despairs of him ever learning better manners than to wipe his nose on his sleeve.

Lord Alfred:    Glowering, he responds. “I would rather have a dagger to secret upon my person in case I am set upon by thugs and evil doers.”

Lady Constance:  “Ha ha ha ha ha!  And when might that happen?  Your school Eton does not enroll bandits, does it?”

Lord Alfred:  “No!”  He says curtly.   “And what of you—what prize do you claim from me, if in the remotest possible chance your sand castle wins?”

Lady Constance: “Well …”  I grin shyly up at him.  “I would like a kiss from you upon my cheek.”  Her face turns crimson with embarrassment for making so bold a request.

Lord Alfred: “Ewwww!  Save that romantic mush for your husband to be in ten years time—whichever poor soul he will be.”  I like Connie as a sometime playmate when our families gather together, but kissing her—even on the cheek?  Blech!


Lord Alfred has not turned his attention to finding girls or young ladies interesting yet.

Lady Constance: “Oh I will.”  She smiles confidently.  For she had overheard her parents talking with his parents after dinner last night about betrothing her to Lord Alfred.  And she likes the taller than her Lord Alfred who, at ten years of age, is a fine looking young lad.  “But for now, you will do.”  She adds tartly with a knowing eight year old smile.

Lord Alfred: “Very well, I accept your terms, My Lady.”  He bows—confident that they will not need to be employed to kiss her.

Lady Constance: “As do I, My Lord.”  She curtsies.

Then as fate would have it, a sudden gust of fierce wind drives the tidal waters to overwhelm and submerge Lady Constance’s sand castle.  And Lord Alfred’s sand castle is still standing with some portion of it rising above the water.  So he wins, this time.

Lord Alfred: “Ha ha ha!  I want my dagger prize!  May hap it will come to useful purpose on some future day.”

Lady Constance: Being a gracious loser, she replies.  “Very well, I will have to apply to my Papa Duke for a dagger for you.  I am not allowed to handle sharp objects—unless I am embroidering, with needles and cutting threads with my small embroidery scissors.  Though even then, I am admonished not to run about with my small embroidery scissors in my hands or pocket.”  Absentmindedly, Lady Constance opens and looks into the small empty pocket of her beach attire play pinafore.  Her parents acquiesced to small pockets in her play pinafore aprons—which, happily for her parents, tend to limit, rather than augment, her ability to carry things home with her, be they rocks, shells, small rabbits, or frogs.

Lord Alfred: “Of course!  Who would run with scissors?”  He looks at her askance.

Lady Constance: “I do not know, I have never tried it.  My Mama Duchess and Papa Duke merely indicated that it would be unwise for me to run with them.”

Lord Alfred:  “I should hope so.”

Lady Constance: “Do not you have rules from your parents that guide or govern your behavior?”

Lord Alfred: “Yes, but none so specific.  Mine are mostly to wash daily as needed, to be considerate of others, and to always remember that my honor is one with our family’s honor.”  And he thinks minxishly that his younger brother Duncan still has the admonition from their parents to aim more carefully into the chamber pot to avoid messes.

Such are the entreaties of parents in encouraging their children to adopt safe and prudent behaviors.  And these imparted parental lessons of life having a lasting impact.


Later that same day, after the two families had feasted together for their evening meal and are now sitting upon couches and chairs before a roaring fire before bedtime, the presentation of Lord Alfred’s sand castle design prize is bestowed with lavish praise.

Duke of Lancashire: “Young Marquess of Malten, come here.”  Intones Lady Constance’s father, the Duke of Lancashire.  Lord Alfred eagerly rises and walks toward the Duke, standing proudly before the Duke.  His parents the Duke and Duchess of York look on with amusement.  “My daughter Lady Constance has told me of your prize for winning the sand castle tidal waters competition.”

Lord Alfred: “Yes, Your Grace.  I won.” He states pridefully, preening so much that his chin is jutting upwards almost to the ceiling.

Lady Constance smiles sweetly and thinks that boys are so silly about bragging all of the time about their winning something or other—even a contest as mundane as sand castles facing the incoming tide.  Though she believes her elder brother  Lord Robert Knightsbridge, the Marquess of Wyre at twelve years of age to have grown beyond that bragging boy phase as he sits benignly next to her on the sette, him smiling at his sister’s latest quest to spark a nascent romance between she and Lord Alfred.

Duke of Lancashire: “Yes.  And that your prize is to be a dagger.”  Young Lord Alfred looks at him eagerly.  But sadly, we did not travel with extra daggers to be meted out as prizes.”  Then he looks knowingly at his Duchess and then at Lord Alfred’s Ducal parents. “But!  As it happens, I wear a dagger on my person at all times.”

Lord Alfred: “Oh?”  Lord Alfred inspects the Duke’s person in search of a blade, but is confounded in his quest.  “I do not see it.”

Duke of Lancashire: “Ah!  That is because the dagger is concealed on my person.”

Then to the amusement of all, the Duke of Lancashire makes a great show of patting his jacket, checking pockets, and then even patting the outside of his breaches.  Though breeches are not known for having pockets in them.    At each potential hiding place, Lord Alfred eagerly waits to see the dagger produced, but is disappointed.  And then when the Duke shrugs his shoulders with a smile and upturned palms, little Lord Alfred snaps his fingers.

Lord Alfred: “You did not check your boots, Your Grace.”  Lord Alfred discourteously points at the Duke’s boots, but so transfixed is he that he does not see his Mama Duchess’ bemusedly shaking her head and frowning glance at her son.

Duke of Lancashire: Then the Duke of Lancashire turns up his mouth in a sly grin.  “No, I did not.”  Then he pats his boots, first left, then right.  Then he smiles and lifts from his boot a small six inch silver handled dagger with an ornately engraved silver sheath [(3) below] and sets the magnificent gift upon a low nearby table.

Everyone oohs and aahs over this valuable gift as they walk over to get a closer look at it.  And Lord Alfred reaches out his hand to claim his prize.  But he is thwarted when his own Father Duke of York weighs in on such a precious and deadly gift.

Duke of York:  “That is a magnificent dagger, Duke.  But one, I fear, that it is too dear to give to a boy.  My son will be happy with a less precious gift.”

Lady Constance: “I offered to embroider a fine linen handkerchief with his initials for Lord Alfred, but he declined.”  She offers.

Duchess of York: “A pity, for that would be a most practical prize.”  She thinks of his sometimes messy shirt sleeves.  They have servants to wash their clothes, of course.  But she would rather have her son develop good habits now, while he is young.

Duke of Lancashire: “Nay!  I am glad to relinquish the dagger to young Lord Alfred.  But with the proviso that he does not run with it unsheathed.”

Lady Constance: Smirking, little Lady Constance mutters under her breath to Lord Alfred.  “I told you.”

Lord Alfred:  “Daggers are not scissors!”  He snaps back at her.

Duchess of Lancashire: “No, but safely using and carrying the sharp dagger involves a similar concern.”  Lady Constance’s mother concurs.

Chastened, Lord Alfred nods his head I agreement.

Duke of Lancashire:  “Young Lord Alfred, this dagger has a history of noble endeavor.  It was given to me by an old family friend as I ventured into manhood with the understanding that though the dagger is beautiful, its use could have a deadly purpose.  So be mindful that this is a weapon of protection and not a toy nor a play thing to brandish about.  Therefore, you should keep it concealed until such time that you have use of it.  Do you agree, Lord Alfred?”  The Duke had previously consulted with the young Lord Alfred’s Father Duke of York and received permission to both bestow the dagger gift and to convey its safe usage to the young boy.

Lord Alfred: “I do.” I nod my head, then bow to him.  Then my Father Duke of York slaps me on my back as I hold the dagger that I quickly clench in my up turned right palm.

Duke of York: “Well done, Alfred.”

Lord Alfred: “Thank you Papa Duke.”

Duke of York: “What say you to being the gracious gentlemen and granting Lady Constance her prize had she won the sand castle contest.”

Lady Constance smiles broadly while her cheeks pinken.   Whereas a surprised look of horror appears upon Lord Alfred’s face.

Lord Alfred: “Papa Duke, please do not make me!”

Duke of York: “I will not make you do anything, Alfred.  I merely ask you to search your conscience and your sense of honor and chivalry.”  Lord Alfred pouts at his father.   “Come, come Alfred.  Your gift for Lady Constance cannot be that grievously expensive.  So please tell your Mama Duchess and I what Lady Constance’s prize is and we will procure it for you to give to her.”

Lord Alfred: “You do not understand.  Her requested prize is not a gift per se.”  Though the conveying of her prize would be a gift, her prize is not, as such, a material object.

Duchess of York: Her knowing what young girls like, she asks.  “Oh? Did she not want a ribbon, or perhaps, a tasty treat?”

Lord Alfred:  “No, Mama Duchess.  Lady Constance wants … well, she wants …”  Lord Alfred flusters with having to reveal so personal–and frankly, so ludicrous a notion–as he kissing Lady Constance upon her cheek.

Then the least likely aid to this conversation interjects, in the person of Lord Alfred’s younger four year old brother.

Lord Duncan: “She wants him to kiss her on the cheek.  Ewwww!”  Little Lord Duncan scrunches up his nose in disgust and waves his hands about in front of himself in mock protest.  For he is not the one tasked with kissing the young girl.

Then both families’ parents and other siblings gasp and titter with laughter.

Lord Alfred: His head jerking swiftly toward his younger brother, Lord Alfred asks him sternly.  “What do you know about it, Duncan?”

Lord Duncan: “She said it.”  He points to Young Lady Constance.

Duchess of York: “Hmmm.”  She sighs with a knowing smile.

Though her seeing Lord Alfred’s distress and wanting to alleviate it, young Lady Constance retracts her request.

Lady Constance: “That is alright, Lord Alfred.  You do not have to, if you do not want to.”  Without her knowing it, that acquiescing phrase will become a common rejoinder that she will utter to him often in the future.  “Kisses should be given willingly, not under duress.”

Duke of York: “There now, Lord Alfred.  Lady Constance is being gracious.  So might you show her some chivalry in return?”  He slight prods his son.

Lord Duncan: “Very well, Papa Duke.”  Then I turn with determination to Lady Constance—who for some reason is looking at me very shyly now.  Considering it was her idea for me to kiss her, I find her to be disingenuous now, with her seeming to be shy about receiving my kiss now.  Girls!  They are so changeable.  How is one ever to understand them?

I have seen the grimace of distaste upon Lord Alfred’s face, and I do not want him to kiss me reluctantly.  And perhaps not kiss me at all.  I do not know why I asked for his kiss in the first place.  Other than that I had overheard some tentative betrothal discussions by our parents that mentioned he and I.  And it turned my mind to thinking along a path of him becoming my husband in our distant futures.  So really, my kiss prize request is our parents fault and not mine.  And yet, as Lord Alfred approaches me, I am filled with equal parts curiosity and embarrassment.

Lord Alfred: I take her hand in mine.  “My Lady Constance, I enjoyed our sand castles tidal competition this day.  And though I won outright, I agree with my Papa Duke that your efforts should also be rewarded.”

I look at Lady Constance and see surprise upon her face—her eyes going wide.  And then I truly look at her.  She is not so bad—for an eight year old girl.  I smile genuinely at her, then I lift her hand to my lips and give it a gentle kiss before lowering her hand and arm again.  Honor is satisfied.


There is more to Lord Duncan’s tale about his brother Lord Alfred and his wife Lady Constance.  But it will have to wait until he has another opportune moment of almost privacy together. Because at that moment, little Miss Tamsin skips into the parlor and invites he and Lady Elizabeth to play lawn croquet with her.

To be continued with Chapter 12

Expectations” (Book 2, sequel to “Encouragement): Chapter 11  images for March 03, 2019 by Gratiana Lovelace (Post #1216)

  1. “Expectations” (Book 2, sequel to “Encouragement”) story cover art is an image representing Lady Elizabeth Blount, sister to the Earl of Sussex in black evening gown–is that of actress Jessica Brown Findlay as Lady Sybil in Downton Abby found at http://www.internet-d.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/38/2012/02/JESSICA-BROWN-FINDLAY-as-Lady-Sybil-Crawley.jpg ; the text font  is Vivaldi.
  2. An image of sand castles was found on Pinterest at:  https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiy76PhvebgAhVhQt8KHZBjBRkQjxx6BAgBEAI&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fbkanekkeberg%2Fsandcastles%2F&psig=AOvVaw0D_JHgl5OHfOo-HzWG_mIC&ust=1551719480382139
  3. The image of a silver ornamented dagger and its sheath was found on Pinterest at: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiy76PhvebgAhVhQt8KHZBjBRkQjxx6BAgBEAI&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fbkanekkeberg%2Fsandcastles%2F&psig=AOvVaw0D_JHgl5OHfOo-HzWG_mIC&ust=1551719480382139


“Expectations” (Book 2)  Ch. 11  URL for Gratiana Lovelace Wattpad story Post  for March 03, 2019 :


Previous “Expectations” (Book 2)  Chapter 10  story URL on my SAL blog post (#1214), on February 24, 2019:

About Gratiana Lovelace

Gratiana Lovelace is my nom de plume for my creative writing and blogging. I write romantic stories in different sub genres. The stories just tumble out of me. My resurgence in creative writing occurred when I viewed the BBC miniseries of Elizabeth Gaskell's novel North & South in February 2010. The exquisitely talented British actor portraying the male lead John Thornton in North & South--Richard Crispin Armitage--became my unofficial muse. I have written over 50 script stories about love--some are fan fiction, but most are original stories--that I am just beginning to share with others on private writer sites, and here on my blog. And as you know, my blog here is also relatively new--since August 2011. But, I'm having fun and I hope you enjoy reading my blog essays and my stories. Cheers! Grati ;-> upd 12/18/11
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1 Response to “Expectations” (Book 2)– Ch. 11:  Lord Duncan’s Childhood Memories of his Brother Lord Alfred,   March 03, 2019  by Gratiana Lovelace (Post #1216)

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