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You need to teach your husband to be romantic.”
“I suppose I could ask him to give me flowers,” Edie said dubiously.
“Is that what you mean?”
“Picture His Dukeness on one knee, handing you a bundle of violets tied with ribbons. How do you feel?”
“A little sick. Violets are so funereal.”
“Very fussy,” Layla said reprovingly. “If your father handed me a bunch of daisies he’d plucked off a coffin, I’d be thrilled.”
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