Any time with this aristocratic beauty would be well spent, and I dutifully followed her through a curtained door into a stone passageway. She walked ...head, her remarkably high heels raising echoes on the stonework, her hips swaying in that old, old rhythm. The little gentleman in my trousers was becoming interested.“It is really difficult keeping the great barn of a place going” she said “but the house has its compensations”.She led me down a flight of stone stairs.“Is this the old servants’. Dad and I don’t like broccoli and Mom doesn’t like cooked spinach. Otherwise, I don’t know of anything else that they really don’t like.”“Do they like lamb?”“Yeah, we have that once or twice a year.”“All right, we’ll do that.”Once I got confirmation that we could get a three-rack lamb crown roast, I texted Dad and the Moms to ask one of them to pick it up from the butcher on the way home. Emma was waiting for me to finish the text.“Would you, please, tell your parents that we’ll be finished. More

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