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249 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published April 24, 1993
“That is the end of this morning’s entertainment,” she said cheerfully, moving between brother and sister and slipping an arm through each of theirs. She began to lead them to the front door, talking gaily as she went. “It was a such a pleasure seeing you again. Give my regards to whomever you think best, remember me in your prayers, and now, adieu.”
“B-B-Beg pardon?” Mr. Carrington stammered, halfway into the hall.
“I am throwing you out,” Miss Glyn informed him.
“But whatever for?” the befuddled Mr. Carrington demanded.
“Because you are here.”
…
With a hearty sigh for a job well done, Miss Glyn returned to the drawing room, closed the door behind her, turned, and beheld the handsome figure of Lord Blake leaning against the fireplace mantle.
“What,” Miss Glyn demanded, “are you doing here?”
“Oughtn’t I to be? Lord Blake said imperturbably as he advanced upon Miss Glyn. “I am. on my oath, positively quaking in my shoes at the thought of what you might do to throw me out of the house.”
“You are wearing boots,” Miss Glyn observed.
Lord Blake carefully scrutinized himself through his quizzing glass. “With these breeches? I should hope so!”
“That is the end of this morning’s entertainment,” she said cheerfully, moving between brother and sister and slipping an arm through each of theirs. She began to lead them to the front door, talking gaily as she went. “It was a such a pleasure seeing you again. Give my regards to whomever you think best, remember me in your prayers, and now, adieu.”
“B-B-Beg pardon?” Mr. Carrington stammered, halfway into the hall.
“I am throwing you out,” Miss Glyn informed him.
“But whatever for?” the befuddled Mr. Carrington demanded.
“Because you are here.”
…
With a hearty sigh for a job well done, Miss Glyn returned to the drawing room, closed the door behind her, turned, and beheld the handsome figure of Lord Blake leaning against the fireplace mantle.
“What,” Miss Glyn demanded, “are you doing here?”
“Oughtn’t I to be? Lord Blake said imperturbably as he advanced upon Miss Glyn. “I am. on my oath, positively quaking in my shoes at the thought of what you might do to throw me out of the house.”
“You are wearing boots,” Miss Glyn observed.
Lord Blake carefully scrutinized himself through his quizzing glass. “With these breeches? I should hope so!”