![]() ![]() That frozen stillness, that ceasing of time, existed only between the three men seated upon the balcony of the Palazzo Brizzi, where they had been enjoying a late breakfast together prior to Blackstone and Osbourne’s departure for England later today. It had not, of course the gondoliers could still be heard singing upon their crafts in the busy Grand Canal, the pedlars continued to call out as they moved along the canal selling their wares, and the birds still sang a merry tune. Indeed, when the very world itself should simply have stopped turning. Indeed, it was one of those momentous occasions when it seemed that time itself should cease. ![]() A glance at their friend Nathaniel Thorne, Earl of Osbourne, showed him to be no less surprised at the announcement as he sat with his tea cup arrested halfway between saucer and mouth. Lord Dominic Vaughn, Earl of Blackstone, and one of the two gentlemen referred to by their host, Lord Gabriel Faulkner, found himself gaping inelegantly across the breakfast table at the other man in stunned disbelief. ‘Have I mentioned to either of you gentlemen that I had thought of offering for one of Westbourne’s daughters?’ ![]()
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