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Jules could have sworn there was a devilish glint in the shopkeepers eye. ‘I find today I am in need of a bonnet.’Mr. Postlethwaite was silent. And then his eyes crept toward the marquess’s hairline.’It will be a gift for a woman, Mr. Postlethwaite.”Of course, sir.’ The marquess wished the ‘of course’ sounded a bit more sincere. He’d scarcely been in the shop for more than three minutes and already his dignity was fraying.
