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‘It’s not what you’re thinking.’ A poor start, but a good few words for her second eldest—almost a challenge really. ‘You can read minds too now, can you?’ A wave of heat swept through Rosalie and she clenched her teeth against responding. She turned back to the garden and continued dead-heading, picking off snails and slugs, tugging at the occasional weed. Florentine would come to her when she was ready and she must be almost there now, otherwise why else step outside when there were plenty of places she could go and things she could busy herself with to avoid a confrontation? There was a soft rattle of the secateurs being removed again from the hook, click of the blades as they trimmed bushes, and the gentle fragrance of spring blooms as Florentine brushed past the rosebush. The court