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Elizabeth was what is popularly known as a "trophy wife", someone to show off to his rivals and colleagues alike. In her late twenties, she was stunningly beautiful, an ex model, well educated and articulate. Her dress sense unerringly flattered and highlighted her attributes. Robert felt a small flutter when they met to discuss terms.She was to travel to Paris to take in a fashion show, a social event on her calendar. Although she wasn't in the industry any more, she liked to keep abreast of the trends and had many friends who still peddled their ankles on the catwalk.He was to meet her at Waterloo Station, bring enough clothes for an extended weekend and make sure he had something presentable to wear. Elizabeth was quite precise about the arrangements and demonstrated an orderly mind that paid attention to detail. His ticket for the Euro-Star Train would arrive in the post the day before. If it did indeed arrive, it was his signal that the date was on, if it didn't, she would. Salty sea air pierced the cabin. It intermingled with the scent of bloodied and rotting fish. Melissa knew it well; during her childhood, she had enjoyed infrequent trips to the ports fish markets with her family’s shopper. “That’s not why” She finally pronounced.“Then why?”Melissa told the truth. Some of it. “I’m a Skylla, and I want to see if it’s true: “she said “Shaky on Land, Stalwart on sea. Always to be”Her mother noticeably quieted. The woman’s amber eyes thinned in irritation. She disliked the family’s maxim, believing it to be outdated and irrelevant to a house of nobility. The sounds of a humming mass began to fade, and soon all they could hear was a slight, far out buzz of outside discussion. And the gently frothing of the ocean.“On the docks, Madam” Their driver gruffed as the carriage trundled to a stop.The cabin door opened to reveal a fresh-faced older man. He wore a fine black vest over a creamy button-down shirt. The outfit helped to broaden his shoulder, for.
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