Grace Burrowes Quotes & Sayings

The earl smiled at her, a buccaneer's smile if ever she saw one. — Grace Burrowes

You were coshed with a fireplace poker," Mrs. Seaton said, bending over him to sift through the hair above his nape. "These wounds will require careful cleaning." She wadded up his shirt and folded it to hold against the scalp wound. "Passive voice," the earl said through clenched teeth, "will not protect you, Mrs. Seaton, since you did the coshing. Jesus and the apostles, that hurts." Her hand came up to hold his forehead even as she continued to press the linen of his ruined shirt against the bleeding wound. "The bleeding is slowing down," she said, "and the wounds on your back are not as messy." "Happily for me," her patient muttered. — Grace Burrowes

You like this darkness. You like learning me by feel." Feeling very bold indeed, she nuzzled at him until she found his mouth with her own. "I like it too. — Grace Burrowes

You have a certain lot in life, my lord. Some of it you chose, some you did not, and much of it you did not realize you were choosing. Still, it is your lot in life, and you must make the best of it. — Grace Burrowes

I love you, he thought, because you are honest with me and because you are willing to speak the truth to me when others might seek to curry favor instead. I love you because you are in this bed with me, not trying to conceive the much-awaited next generation of Windhams, but just holding my hand.
Gayle Windham — Grace Burrowes

Though why David was subjecting himself to this torment was — Grace Burrowes

You really are looking a trifle fatigued, my dear," Benjamin observed while they ambled away from the house. "Are these prewedding jitters? If it would help, I can come sing you lullabies." And — Grace Burrowes

Do we need a Christmas present for her ladyship and Sonnet?" "Oh, they would like that," Amanda said, kiting around on Louisa's other hand. "They both eat carrots, and we've tons and tons of carrots in the root cellars. Papa doesn't like carrots." "However would you know such a thing?" "We don't know such a thing," Fleur said. "But we don't like carrots, and if you think Papa doesn't either, you won't put them on our menus." Amanda turned big blue eyes on Louisa. "That will mean more for Sonnet too." "You are a pair of minxes. Their Graces will adore you, but nothing will preserve you from having to eat the occasional carrot. You must accept your fate with dignity." Mention — Grace Burrowes

Proper mourning leaves one nothing to do but mourn, and I've concluded this isn't a good thing. Grief crowds in closely enough without the rest of life being shoved aside to make way for it. — Grace Burrowes

BOOKS CHANGE LIVES. — Grace Burrowes

I don't believe we are in any danger, but — Grace Burrowes

The earl got up and paced to the window. Anna and Dev were on the terrace, and she was smiling at something he'd said. Dev's smile was flirtatious and a little wistful - charmingly so, damn the scoundrel. — Grace Burrowes

How lovely, to meet a man who helped rather than fussed and scolded. — Grace Burrowes

Death is within anybody's grasp. The greater challenge is to live, and to love despite our error's and failings. — Grace Burrowes

Is this your soap?" "It is," Val answered, sitting on the bed and watching as St. Just dunked to wet his hair. "Do the honors. I am going smell like a bordello when I get out of this bath." "You will smell like a gentleman. — Grace Burrowes

He tucked a lock of her hair, her warm, glorious, silky hair, over her ear. "Hands to yourself, Mr. Hazlit. I have brothers, and I can protect myself if need be." "How would you protect yourself? I'm at least half a foot taller and probably six stone heavier." "You're a man." She hugged his coat closer. "You have at least one other set of vulnerabilities besides your arrogance and your pride." "Nasty, Miss Windham." Wonderfully nasty. She gave him a disparaging glance. — Grace Burrowes

My lords." She curtsied but came up frowning at Westhaven. "Forgive me if I note you rise slowly. Are you well?" The earl glanced at his brother repressively. "My brother is not in good health?" Val asked, grinning. "Do tell." "I merely suffered a little bump on the head," the earl said, "and Mrs. Seaton spared me the attentions of the physicians." Mrs. Seaton was still frowning, but the earl went on, forestalling her reply. "You may tend to your flowers, Mrs. Seaton, and I echo my brother's compliments: Tea is most pleasant. — Grace Burrowes

You'd call this fellow out, whoever he is?"
"In a bloody heartbeat. When this silly house party is over, we're going into Town and buying my duchess a handsome little pistol to carry in her reticule, and we're showing her how to use it. Then we'll explain bullwhips to her, and get her an archery set as well."
Harlan took the terrace steps two at a time. "Noah, what are you going on about?"
"Marital bliss, Harlan, wooing my duchess, and the kind of family we are now. — Grace Burrowes

Marry the widow, little brother. She makes you smile." Val — Grace Burrowes

He was a handsome man, several inches over six feet, green-eyed, with dark chestnut hair and features that bore the patrician stamp of aristocratic breeding. She put his age at just past thirty but had formed no opinion of him as a person. — Grace Burrowes

Two men? Two big young men? Calling at Maggie's kitchen door? No, he did not like this one bit, but he wouldn't give Archer the satisfaction of being obvious about it. "They — Grace Burrowes

For a moment, she stood where she'd landed, like some drunken bee in the vicinity of its preferred blossom. — Grace Burrowes

She glanced at him, her expression curious. "When did you decide to call me Maggie?"
The last time I kissed you. "When did you decide to allow me to? — Grace Burrowes

And who have we here?" Nick turned to Ellen and flashed her a charming smile. Val performed the introductions. "Ellen, may I make known to you Nick Haddonfield, the biggest scamp in the realm, and since his marriage, the happiest. Nick, Ellen Markham, Baroness Roxbury, my neighbor and friend." "Baroness." Nick executed a very proper bow but kissed Ellen's hand - a shocking presumption - rather than merely bowing over it. "Ignore him," Axel warned. "Any attempt to chide, flirt, or comment only encourages him, and this is after he has found a woman willing to marry him." "And bear my children," Nick added, eyes twinkling. Talk — Grace Burrowes

Not a mindless relinquishing of physical dignity in exchange for favors or pleasure, but an intentional vulnerability far more dangerous and lasting. — Grace Burrowes

I see you have modified your interpretation of the rules of decorum in deference to the heat," the earl noted, helping himself to a glass of lemonade. "Good God!" He held the glass away from him after a single sip. "It isn't sweetened." "You helped yourself to my glass," Anna said, suppressing a smile. She passed him the second glass, from which he took a cautious swallow. She was left to drink from the same glass he'd first appropriated or go back to the kitchen to fetch herself a clean glass. Looking up, she saw the earl watching her with a kind of bemused curiosity, as if he understood her dilemma. She took a hefty swallow of lemonade - and it did have sugar in it, though just a dash - and set her glass on the blotter. — Grace Burrowes

You want me." She tried to keep the wonder out of her voice. Two minutes ago, she'd been asleep in his arms, and yet his body was ready to join with hers. "Always." He — Grace Burrowes

Do you suppose Valentine is happy?" Women. They were forever pondering the imponderables and expecting their menfolk to do likewise. "Valentine delights in his music, the Philharmonic is ever after him to give up his ruralizing and come to Town to rehearse them. One must conclude his rustic existence appeals to him." Her Grace set the letter aside. "Or being up in Oxfordshire appeals to him, or his wife appeals to him. I think Ellen is yet shy of polite society." If their youngest son ran true to Windham form, he was spending the winter keeping his new wife warm and cozy, and perhaps seeing to the next generation of the musical branch of the family. His Grace reached over and patted his wife's hand. "We'll squire her around next Season, put the ducal stamp of approval on Val's choice. — Grace Burrowes

He looked so strong and fit and competent, but he'd been, again, deceptive. He was a wounded barbarian. A kind, shrewd, handsome, wounded barbarian. The — Grace Burrowes

Kiss me, Rothgreb." He smiled down at her, a trace of his old devilment in his blue eyes. "Naughty girl." But he bussed her cheek and patted her hand. "My lovely, naughty girl." "Vim — Grace Burrowes

I've just concluded an interview with your daughter Lucy, and need to speak with you personally at your earliest convenience. — Grace Burrowes

Evie." He brushed her hair back from her temple. "Time to wake up, love. We must greet our staff." She straightened and peered out the window. "So many of them, and this is not even your family seat." Our family seat. He did not emphasize the point. "Let me pin you up." She turned on the seat while he fashioned something approximating a bun at her nape. The moment was somehow marital, and to Deene, imbued with significance as a result. Deene had laced up, dressed, and undressed any number of ladies, but there was nothing flirtatious in the way Eve presented to him the pale, downy nape of her neck. He kissed her there and felt a shiver go through her. "You are going to be the sort of husband who is indiscriminate with the placement of his lips on my person, aren't you?" She did not sound pleased. "When we are private, probably. You always smell luscious, and I am only a man." His — Grace Burrowes

Stop peering around to see if Sophie's here. I assure you she's about somewhere." Sindal passed his gloves and hat to the footman and waited until the servant had bustled away. "And you would not object to my socializing with Lady Sophia?" "Such a bold fellow you have become." Emboldened by love, apparently, which made the situation both simpler and more delicate. "You would not give a tinker's damn if I objected, would you?" Sindal's lips quirked. "I would not, Your Grace, but Sophie would." "Thank God for small favors, then. Are we to stand around here in this draft and exchange innuendos, or will you let me get you a glass of punch?" And still, Sindal's gaze was darting surreptitiously into every corner of the vast entrance hall. "No punch for me, thank you, Your Grace." Oh, for God's sake. His Grace leveled a look at his guest that wasn't the least congenial. Love made young men daft - old men too, though that didn't signify at the moment. "Perhaps — Grace Burrowes

He eyed her bed in the moonlight streaming in her window and gave serious thought to simply dozing off right there. He had the sense she wasn't going to be reasonable about what had just happened, and the longer he let her stew and fret, the more unreasonable she'd be. *** — Grace Burrowes

Dev?" Val was in his brother's crushing embrace in the next instant, his back being heartily pounded, and his throat suspiciously tight. Val pulled back and assured himself that his eyes had not lied. "What in the hell are you doing away from Emmie and Winnie?" "I was banished." St. Just's grin became sheepish. "Emmie isn't due for a few more weeks, and she accused me of hovering. I missed those members of the family who were not kind enough to winter with us, so here I am on a lightning raid, as it were." "And — Grace Burrowes

That is a very different sort of housekeeper you have there," Val said, when the library door had closed behind her. "I know." Westhaven made a sandwich and checked again to make sure his brother hadn't pilfered the marzipan. "She's a little cheeky, to be honest, but does her job with particular enthusiasm. She puts me in mind of Her Grace." "How so?" Val asked, making a sandwich, as well. "Has an indomitable quality about her," Westhaven said between bites. "She bashed me with a poker when she thought I was a caller molesting a housemaid. Put out my lights, thank you very much." "Heavens." Val paused in his chewing. "You didn't summon the watch?" "The appearances were deceiving, and she doesn't know I'd never trifle with a housemaid." "And if you were of a mind to before," Val said, eyeing the marzipan, "you'd sure as hell think twice about it now. — Grace Burrowes

Has Westhaven taken to gossiping?"
"He has not, but like most men, you assume the only communications of significance pass between the males of the species. — Grace Burrowes

Correct me if I'm wrong, Valentine," St. Just said, "but wasn't it you who was cursing and stomping about here last night because I suggested we wait one day to see what the weather was going to do?" "I wasn't cursing. Ellen frowns on it, and one needs to get out of the habit if one is going to have children underfoot." "Doesn't exactly work that way," Westhaven muttered. "I'm willing to tarry a day if you're asking us to, Val. Devlin?" "The horses can use the rest." Val looked momentarily nonplussed at having won his battle without firing a shot then dropped down onto a sofa. "So, Westhaven, are you saying children don't inspire a man to stop cursing?" "They most assuredly do not," Westhaven said, rising. "His Grace and I are agreed on this, which is frightening of and by itself. Let me order some toddies, and we can discuss exactly how the arrival of children changes an otherwise happily married man's vocabulary. — Grace Burrowes

This was wrong, dangerous, stupid ... and necessary to the survival off her soul. — Grace Burrowes

I am so excited that I won The Traitor. I love Grace Burrowes books, and I do mean all of them. Thanks so much. — Grace Burrowes

She's a veritable siren, if you don't mind a grumpy woman who enjoys wielding a knife with alarming skill. — Grace Burrowes

They got the horses moving at a faster shuffle, but it occurred to Vim as they trudged and struggled and cursed their way toward Sidling, that Sophie's brothers - passing him the baby, making inane small talk with him, and even in their silences - had been offering him some sort of encouragement. Would that her ladyship might do the same. Inside — Grace Burrowes

I did not get her a morning gift. This is remiss of me." A quarter mile later: "Very remiss. I intend to consummate the marriage thoroughly, and I do apologize for bringing such a matter up to a fellow who's in want of his ballocks." Though the lack hardly seemed to bother the beast. "I could not have spent one more night with that woman driving me mad, and nothing to be done about it. I shall have my revenge on her, see if I don't." Thoughts of erotic revenge were not comfortably pursued when a man occupied a saddle, much less a cold saddle. "And — Grace Burrowes

He was a hand-holder; she'd gathered that much. Lovely quality in a man ... — Grace Burrowes

Victor hadn't exactly looked forward to death before, he was probably contemplating it a bit more fondly as the morning progressed. — Grace Burrowes

Mercia wasn't a little-in-love sort of man. He was mad, dark passion, sweeping emotion, and complete loss of reason, with his gaunt male beauty, his wealth and power, and his haunted past. — Grace Burrowes

He loomed over her, his eyes dark, his expression implacable. "You are wearing my ring, Maggie Windham." "I am wearing your ring because you were hen-witted enough to sneak it onto my night table when I was too overset to notice, and I did not want to lose it, and leaving expensive jewelry around where any maid might misplace - " But now the handsome wretch was smiling down at her. "Hen-witted, Maggie? I kiss your cheek in parting, slip a ring onto your night table, and you say I'm the one who's rendered hen-witted?" "It's one of Her Grace's words. When she uses it on the boys, they positively reel with abused dignity." "Reel into bed, Maggie, and expect me to call on you quite early tomorrow." It — Grace Burrowes

I don't suppose you told the woman you're arse over teakettle in love with her?"
"I did. [ ... ] I went about it all wrong."
"There's a wrong way to tell a woman you love her?"
"Nearly shouting it at her when she's angry and frightened and looking for excuses to throw your ring at you might qualify. — Grace Burrowes

Ellen?" Val knelt to peer up at her where she sat. "Shall I leave?" He put a hand on her knee then slid it up to her hip, holding her gaze as he did. She laid her fingers over the back of his debilitated left hand. They'd been heading for this moment for weeks, but now that it was upon her, she looked not just surprised but stunned. "I'll leave," Val said, settling back onto his heels and resting his cheek against her thigh. "If you ask it of me, I'll get up and see about your locks, share a cup of cider and an apple tart, ask you your plans for the week, and understand." "Understand?" He brought his other hand around her waist and held on, knee-walking in close to hug her middle on a sigh. "Now — Grace Burrowes

It was a struggle to not fall in love with a man who was determined to be decent to her when what she sought was indulgence of her wanton nature.
Her recently discovered, very frustrated wanton nature, damn him. — Grace Burrowes

The man was a Black Irish terror, no matter he paid well and worked harder than any title Holderman had run across. Devlin St. Just, newly created first Earl of Rosecroft, was a flat, screaming terror. Gossip, even in York, was that the French had run for the hills when St. Just had led the charge. "Well, — Grace Burrowes

You will catch your death, Wife." Joseph opened his cape and enveloped her in its folds, which - happily for her - necessitated that he hug her to his chest. "I will be back as soon as possible." "We have much to do in your absence." "I've never seen this house so thoroughly decorated for the holidays. I can't believe there's another thing to be done." Louisa felt his chin come to rest on her temple. "We have a great deal of baking to do if we're to send baskets to the tenants and neighbors. I must write to the agencies to find us another governess, and you've set me the task of finding a charity worthy of your coin. Then too, I am behind on my correspondence, and if all else fails, I have your library to explore. I will stay busy." "While I will freeze my backside off, haring about the realm without you. — Grace Burrowes

Sussex, hailed back to Oxfordshire by Rutland's — Grace Burrowes

Come along." He bent and caught her behind the knees, hoisting her into his arms. "Benjamin!" She looped her arms around his neck. "You'll do yourself an injury." She was substantial, but in the best possible, most womanly way. "I will not - because you so religiously forgo your sweets." "Only when anybody is looking." She let him carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. Someone had turned down the covers, and a half-dozen pillows were piled on a chair near the window. Ben started throwing more pillows on the floor. "What are you about, my lord?" "You can have done with my lording, or I'll start in with my ladying. I'm making room. You disguise it well, but that bed is big enough for the both of us. Where is the dog?" "He sleeps in my office. There's a bed for him there. Perhaps he might share it with you, because I have no interest in sharing mine." "Not — Grace Burrowes

Don't look at me like that, Augusta." He stood to pull his shirt over his head. "I don't deserve it. No mortal could deserve such an expression. — Grace Burrowes

Though I can't like this idea of yours, Val, simply confronting the man, no magistrate about, no one but Wee Nick on hand to enforce the king's peace." "Wee Nick," said the man himself, "outranks the pusillanimous buffoon, has double his weight, double his reach, and at least five times his brain power. And should my charming presence fail to inspire him to good conduct, you will be waiting in the wings, ready to rescue us." "Rescue — Grace Burrowes

My countess tells me Genevieve has taken it into her head to remove to Paris. I suspect she wants to avoid being aunt-at-large, while her own situation admits of no change. We are Jenny's family, and Christmas is upon us. Harrison paints, he argues with her, and he has all his teeth. What say you, gentlemen?" "Paris reeks," Lord Kesmore said. "Harrison's scent is rather pleasant by comparison." "He smells of linseed oil," St. Just observed. "A point in his favor," Hazelton murmured, "from Lady Jenny's perspective." Westhaven — Grace Burrowes

The sound of her voice was so pretty, it almost disguised the ugliness of her words. — Grace Burrowes

Even when I cried," she said, a world of resignation in her tone, "I was glad to be here with you, Westhaven. Believe that, if you believe nothing else of me."
What she had meant was: Even when I cried because I must leave you, I was glad to be here with you ... Believe that if you believe nothing else of me when I find the courage to finally go. — Grace Burrowes

I vote you read and we fellows will listen in rapt silence." "And thus Kit is indoctrinated into the conspiracy to which all males belong," Sophie muttered. "And you ladies don't have conspiracies of your own?" He brought the child to his shoulder and started rubbing Kit's little back. The sight sent odd tendrils of warmth drifting through Sophie's insides. "We women are cooperative by nature; that's different from conspiratorial." She — Grace Burrowes

I know what you're doing, though."
"I'm glad somebody knows what I'm about, because I seem to have lost my own grasp of it entirely. — Grace Burrowes

Honorable, Bernita mine. To look after those who can't look after themselves, to attend to duty rather than convenience. You have reminded me of what honor requires, and I'm grateful. That last word - grateful - wasn't one Nita heard very often. — Grace Burrowes

Might as well rest the horses," St. Just said, nudging his beast out of the middle of the beaten path. "Westhaven, can you dismount?" "I cannot. My backside is permanently frozen to the saddle; my ability to reproduce is seriously jeopardized." "Anna will be desolated." St. Just waited while Westhaven swung down, then whistled at an urchin shivering in the door to a nearby church. "We'll — Grace Burrowes

It will be easier, my lord, if you will sit, as even your collar is above my eye level." "Very well." He dragged a stool to the center of the room and sat his lordly arse upon it. "And since you don't want to have stray hairs on that lovely white linen," Anna went on, "I would dispense with the shirt, were I you." "Always happy to dispense with clothing at the request of a woman." The earl whipped his shirt over his head. "Do you want your hair cut, my lord?" Anna tested the sharpness of the scissor blades against her thumb. "Or perhaps not?" "Cut," his lordship replied, giving her a slow perusal. "I gather from your vexed expression there is something for which I must apologize. I confess to a mood both distracted and resentful." "When somebody does you a decent turn," she said as she began to comb out his damp hair, "you do not respond with sarcasm and innuendo, my lord. — Grace Burrowes

On the way back to the house, he began to plan the seduction of his future wife, pausing to pluck her a single rose just as the sky opened up with a renewed downpour. They — Grace Burrowes

He was more tired than he had a right to be, considering he'd done little more than tool along in the gig, stroll around the property, and talk with Anna. But he was exhausted, and he'd taken some sort of chill in the rain, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, he wasn't going to waste an opportunity to torment his intended duchess, so he stripped out of his shirt, his breeches, stockings, and smalls, and took the bucket to the hearth, the better to illuminate him for Anna's peeping eyes. Truth — Grace Burrowes

He wanted to ravish; she merely nibbled. He wanted to plunder her senses; she let one hand drift through his hair. "Oh, for God's sake." He raised himself up on his arms and glared down at her. "Stop thinking, Maggie Windham, and stop worrying or I'll make you stop." Her brows knit. "It isn't something I can - Benjamin? Where are you going?" He hiked himself off the bed, flipped up the hem of her chemise, and knelt between her spread legs. She braced herself on her elbows, peering at him. "Benjamin?" "Hush. I'm busy." He ran the backs of his fingers up and down the silken skin of her inner thighs. When she slumped back on the bed, he let himself lean in and nuzzle curls slightly darker than the magnificent mane on her head. "Not thinking now, are you?" "You — Grace Burrowes

Tell me now, Anna, he silently pleaded as she ran her finger over a rose petal. Tell me I could have a son, that we could have a son, a daughter, a baby, a future - anything. — Grace Burrowes

How are your womenfolk?" Val asked, feeling a tug at his heartstrings at just the thought of Emmie St. Just so near her confinement. "Em thinks she's big as a house. The heat isn't so bad up north, and that's a blessing, as she sleeps poorly. This makes me fret, which makes me sleep poorly, and so forth. Winnie is watching closely but doing as well as can be expected. She said to tell you she practices the piano a lot, and while I cannot vouch for the quality of her practicing, I can vouch unequivocally for its volume." "Stand, — Grace Burrowes

He should have told her that whatever her station in life - cook, housekeeper, companion, governess, whatever, it mattered naught to him so long as she exchanged it for the position of his baroness. And — Grace Burrowes

Why do I have the compulsion to caution you strenuously against going up those stairs, Windham? Perhaps you'll be swarmed by bats or set upon by little ghoulies with crossbows." "Oh, for God's sake, what could be hiding in an empty old carriage house?" *** — Grace Burrowes

He smiled his barbarian's smile. "Keep looking at me like that, Emmie love, and I will be bothering you again in a trice. — Grace Burrowes

Somehow, I cannot see anyone describing me as gracious, loving, and happy." He frowned at his sandwich as if in puzzlement. "You are loving," Anna replied staunchly, though she hadn't exactly planned for those words to leave her mouth. "Now that is beyond surprising." The earl eyed her in the deepening shadows. "How do you conclude such a thing, Mrs. Seaton?" "You have endless patience with your family, my lord," she began. "You escort your sisters everywhere; you dance attendance on them and their hordes of friends at every proper function; you harry and hound the duke so his wild starts are not the ruination of his duchy. You force yourself to tend to mountains of business which you do not enjoy, so your family may be safe and secure all their days." "That is business," the earl said, looking nonplussed that his first sandwich had disappeared, until Anna handed him a second. — Grace Burrowes

Thank you. Thank you, Noah, thank you, thank you.
By sundown, Thea could throw the damned thing with deadly accuracy. At bedtime, she asked if Noah would mind if she slept with it under her pillow every night.
He assured her he would not.
* when Thea gets a knife from Noah — Grace Burrowes

I live to bring you pleasure. To Gilly, his words rang like a vow. — Grace Burrowes

Want you to see my face when — Grace Burrowes

You can have the rest of your life with her," St. Just said gently. "What if she won't have me?" Emmie asked softly. "What if she can't understand? She's six years old, St. Just. I've let her think she's had no mother for half her years on earth, and I was ready to turn my back on her completely." His fingers closed over hers, and this time he didn't simply pat her hand and let go. "You were trying to do the best you could in difficult circumstances. You wanted what was best for Winnie, and she will eventually understand that. It will work out. I know it will." "I can only hope so, and I can only continue to try my best." "Winnie — Grace Burrowes

Right. I am here because I want to spend whatever time I can around Genevieve Windham, even if it's only a few weeks amid paint fumes and under her parents' watchful eyes. I am here to share with her whatever support and insight I might render regarding her art before she leaves for damned France. I am here" - he brushed his nose along the top of the cat's head - "because I could not resist the opportunity to see her, to kiss her, even once more." The cat appeared to consider this, then bopped Elijah's chin. "I am here because I am a fool." A — Grace Burrowes

In Nita's experience, the best intelligence officers in any big family were found among the younger siblings. They began their careers while small, nonthreatening, and unobtrusive. By adolescence, they developed formidable powers of observation and recollection, to say nothing of an ability to lurk at keyholes and befriend the servants. — Grace Burrowes

What story will you tell me?" "What kind of story would you like?" "An exciting story. One with an exotic climate and mortal peril." He had to smile at the relish in her voice. "Do we have bloodthirsty warring factions in this story?" "No war, please." She'd lost a brother to the Corsican's armies. He'd forgotten that, though she never would. "You want a happy ending, then?" She studied her teacup for a thoughtful moment. "I don't admit to my family that I still want the happy endings and wishes to come true. A mature woman should just take life as it comes, and I do have a great deal to be grateful for." "But a mature woman should also be honest with herself, and with me. You're allowed to wish for the happy endings, Sophie. For yourself and for Kit too." When — Grace Burrowes

Louisa Carrington, come here." Her head came up at the imperious note in his voice. "Allow me to rephrase that: Dearest Wife, would you let me hold you?" He held out his arms, willing her to accept his embrace. Her first steps were tentative, but he held her gaze and waited until she was bundled against his chest. "I want to shout at you, Joseph. I am very like my father in this." "Go ahead and shout. I think better when I'm holding you. Perhaps you think better when you shout." She — Grace Burrowes

Trenton," Nick said patiently, "it is simple: your pizzle, her quim, you both enjoy each other until you can't move. Nothing simpler. You have three children, for pity's sake, need I draw you diagrams? — Grace Burrowes

You worry me, Mags, so self-contained and quiet. Hazelton would not have been my choice for you."
"Why not?"
"He's a man who dwells in the shadows and appears to like it there. You have enough shadows of your own."
"Maybe he sees me as I really am because shadows don't deter him. — Grace Burrowes

His expression was bleak, but then, Sir Joseph's expression was usually bleak. He was not a classically handsome man - his features were saturnine, his brows a trifle heavy, his nose not quite straight, though bold and a bit hooked. He yet managed to be attractive to Louisa for she had seen him smile. Just the once, he'd smiled at his small daughters one day in the church yard, but Louisa had never forgotten the sight. His smile, full of warmth, humor, and affection, made him very attractive indeed. "Will — Grace Burrowes

So she learned at the age of almost twenty-six how to kiss a lover. Such kisses involved tongues, lips, taste, feel, and soft, needy noises that had her pressing up into his body and wanting to consume him with her hands and her mouth. — Grace Burrowes

Wee, wee, wee, wee, all the way home," Hazlit quoted the nursery rhyme. Portmaine paused before sipping his own drink. "Did Maggie Windham strike you on the head?" "No. She hired me, and it took me half my walk home to figure out what she's truly about." "She wants to have her way with your tender young flesh," Portmaine suggested. "You're overdue to get your wick dipped, you know." "Your concern is touching, Archer." "You always get short-tempered when you've neglected your romping. Maybe you should go a round or two with Lady Norcross." "Maybe I should find a partner who can think beyond his next swiving." "I like swiving." Portmaine pushed off the desk and refilled his drink, then came to rest on the sofa a couple of feet from Hazlit. "It's normal to like swiving. Lady Norcross apparently understands this. You used to understand this. I certainly understand it. More brandy?" "You're outpacing me," Hazlit said, smiling slightly at Portmaine's predictable simplicity. "And — Grace Burrowes

Is this all you want, Anna?" He brought his arms around her and urged her to lean into him. "Merely an embrace? I'll understand it, if you do."
"It isn't merely an embrace," she replied, loving the feel of his lean muscles and long bones against her body. "It is your embrace, and your scent, and the cadence of your breathing, and the warmth of your hands. To me, there is nothing mere about it. — Grace Burrowes

She was tall for a female, but the top of her head would still fit nicely under his chin were she to turn around and wrap her arms around his waist. "It — Grace Burrowes

I have been a widower for nigh fifty years, but I am never alone. We had eight good years together, and they've lasted me the entire eighty. It's like that, you see, when you can marry where your heart lies. — Grace Burrowes

Oh, for God's sake." Westhaven sounded most displeased. "Evie just switched her glass of wassail for Deene's, and the idiot man didn't even notice." Maggie's brows knit. "Why does that matter?" "Because," St. Just said as Westhaven moved off, "Deene's is spiked with a dose of the loveliest white rum ever to knock a grown man on his arse." Maggie took a little sip of her drink. "So's mine." Val reached over and plucked her glass from her hand. "Then you'd better share, sister dear, or I'm going to go fetch Sindal here myself." *** — Grace Burrowes

Her words reminded him of a comforting truth: Joan Flynn was a bright woman, and nowhere near as self-absorbed as others of her station could be. — Grace Burrowes

Papa said damn." Fleur slapped her hand over her mouth as if to hold back her giggles. "Damn is a bad word. We're not supposed to say damn, or damn it, or God damn it to hell, or - " "Cease." Joseph wrapped an arm around her to put his much-larger hand over her mouth. He was outnumbered, though, and Amanda started up immediately. "Or bloody damn or damn and blast. If we were boys, you'd teach us how to swear and even belch, and we'd know how to far - " He ended up with two little girls wiggling off his lap, their giggles cascading behind them as they scampered a few feet away. "Enough, the both of you. — Grace Burrowes

Sophie was not a woman to romp with. She was a woman a man could spend years learning to cherish. "You — Grace Burrowes

He'll get drowsy soon." Mr. Charpentier shifted back onto his heels. "That's the best part, when they're all sweet and snuggly. Little buggers wrap us around their fingers without even trying." "You — Grace Burrowes

And just when His Grace was certain they were going to gain the privacy of the men's punch bowl, who should come wafting by but dear little Sophia herself ? "Lord Sindal?" She stopped, her gaze fixed on Sindal's face. "I'm fetching him a glass of punch, Sophie." His Grace took Sindal by the arm. "I believe Her Grace said something about Westhaven decimating the marzipan trays. You might want to have a look, hmm?" He had to drag the boy away bodily. "You can lurk under the mistletoe later, Sindal. I want no more than five minutes of your time." And grandchildren. He most assuredly wanted grandchildren, though based on the way Sophie and her swain made eyes at each other, this happy outcome was a foregone conclusion. Legitimate — Grace Burrowes

Mrs. Seaton?" His lordship was frowning at the table, but when he looked up at her, his expression became perfectly blank - but for the mischief in his eyes. "My lord?" Anna cocked her head and wanted to stomp her foot. The earl in a playful mood was more bothersome than the earl in a grouchy mood, but at least he wasn't kissing her. He held up her right glove, twirling it by a finger, and he wasn't going to give it back, she knew, unless she marched up to him and retrieved it. "Thank you," she said, teeth not quite clenched. She walked over to him, and held out her hand, but wasn't at all prepared for him to take her hand in his, bring it to his lips, then slap the glove down lightly into her palm. "You are welcome." He snagged a third muffin from the bread box and went out the back door, whistling some complicated theme by Herr Mozart that Lord Valentine had been practicing for hours earlier in the week. Leaving — Grace Burrowes

She smiled at him, and Val felt his heart trip on the next few beats. Good God, she was lovely. Just sitting here outside the Rooster, cradling her mug in her hands. A little dusty, a little tired, but in her warm, earthy dark-eyed way, she was beautiful. — Grace Burrowes

You are such a cheering influence, Michael. Take yourself off to bed, there to dream of the end of the world or whatever gives a nice Catholic boy comfort on a long and cold night. — Grace Burrowes

You would like a large family, Louisa? You want lots of babies of me? They'll grow up, you know, and turn into shrieking, banister-sliding, pony-grubbing little people, all of whom must have shoes and books and puppies. They'll eat like a regiment and have no thought for their clothes - which they'll grow out of before the maids can turn the first hem. They'll skin their knees, break their collarbones, and lose their dolls. Do you know what a trauma ensues when a six-year-old female loses her doll? I have a spare version of Missus Whatever-Hampton Her Damned Name Is, but Amanda found her and said a spare would never do, because the perishing thing didn't smell right - you find this amusing?" "I find you endearing." His brows came down. "I will never understand the female mind." "I — Grace Burrowes

What exactly do you want to know that you weren't able to get out of Val?" "Where did you find her? I am in the market for same." "I lured her to my employ with my endless buckets of charm," Westhaven said dryly. "You are charming," Dev said when they were trotting along. "You just can't afford to be flirtatious, as well." Westhaven — Grace Burrowes