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Her chances of a decent marriage were about to be dashed—and all because of a ferret.
“This,” she muttered beneath her breath, “is what happens when you’re a Hathaway. Misadventures . . . wild animals . . . house fires . . . curses . . . scandals
“Before you leave,” he said softly, “I have some advice for you. It’s not safe for a young woman to wander alone through the hotel. Don’t take such a foolish risk again.” Poppy stiffened. “It’s a reputable hotel,” she said. “I have nothing to fear.” “Of course you do,” he murmured. “You’re looking right at it.”
She consoled herself with the knowledge that she would never see him again. And she went down the hallway with the housemaid . . . never suspecting that the course of her entire life had just changed.
Bea looked at her for a moment, her blue eyes innocent. “Young ladies never contemplate . . . the ways that creatures procreate ...” “Or their companion will be irate,” Poppy finished for her.
A ferret? The Hathaways were definitely involved.
She was worth anything, he thought, even giving up the last remnants of his soul.
“Why would I want to attract a man? I have yet to see anything they’re good for.” “If for nothing else,” Leo said, “you need us to help produce more women.”
It was unfair that the people who longed for love the most, searched the hardest for it, found it so elusive.
“That bastard,” he said quietly. “Shall I kill him for you?”
“Have a spoonful of salad,” Miss Marks murmured to Poppy. “For appearance’s sake. And smile.” “Like this?” Poppy attempted to turn the corners of her mouth upward. Beatrix regarded her doubtfully. “No, that’s not pretty at all. You look like a salmon.”
“You’re very brave,” Belinda replied. “And Poppy, remember that someday you will meet a frog who will turn into a handsome prince.” “Good,” Beatrix said. “Because all she’s met so far are princes who turn into frogs.”
“Mr. Bayning is not a frog,” Poppy protested. “You’re right,” Beatrix said. “That was very unfair to frogs, who are lovely creatures.”
“You were courted by a boy, who had to do as he was told.” His hot breath feathered against her lips as he whispered, “You should try it with a man, who needs no one’s permission.”
“How could she be lonely? She’s constantly surrounded by people.” “That can be the worst loneliness of all.”
In the meantime, Harry stole glances of her whenever he could, his lovely and distant wife . . . and he drank in the smiles she gave to other people.
“Americans and romance. It’s like watching a bird try to fly with one wing.”
“You do think he’ll follow me, don’t you?” “Only to the ends of the earth,”
Men love to be forgiven. It makes us feel better about our inability to learn from our mistakes.”
“We’re never going to be ordinary, are we?” “No, dear. Although, I must confess, I’ve never fully understood your desire for an ordinary life. To me, the word implies dullness.”
Seduction is merely encouraging a man to do something he already wants to do.”
The prosperous market town of Stony Cross was located in one of the most picturesque regions of England. But the town and its environs possessed something more than mere scenic appeal—a mystical quality, something difficult to put his finger on. It seemed they were traveling to a place out of time, the ancient woods harboring creatures that could only exist in myth. As evening deepened, mist collected in the valley and crept across the roads in an otherworldly haze.
“Do you want to take up the fight again, or shall we dispense with the rest of it and go have a brandy with Ramsay?” One thing was clear to Harry: His in-laws were not normal people.
“I can’t. I’ll never be sorry about it. Because if I hadn’t done it, you’d be his now. And he only wanted you if it was easy for him. But I want you any way I can get you. Not because you’re beautiful or clever or kind or adorable, although the devil knows you’re all those things. I want you because there’s no one else like you, and I don’t ever want to start a day without seeing you.”
“Do you know what a balance wheel is?” She shook her head slightly. “There’s one in every clock or watch. It rotates back and forth without stopping. It’s what makes the ticking sound . . . what makes the hands move forward to mark the minutes. Without it, the watch wouldn’t work. You’re my balance wheel, Poppy.”
Love was about seeing through to the truth of a person, and accepting all their shades of light and dark. Love was an ability.
The situation reminded her of something her mother had often said about marriage: “Never remember his mistakes, but always remember your own.”
It is the chiefest point of happiness that a man is willing to be what he is.’
“I have so much love for you, I could fill rooms with it. Buildings. You’re surrounded by it wherever you go, you walk through it, breathe it . . . it’s in your lungs, and under your tongue, and between your fingers and toes ...”
