Castle of the Winds (The Secrets of Ormdale, #3)

by Christina Baehr

“No, Edith. Not any man,”

Le swoon

His slightly self-satisfied air reminded me of some of our wealthier parishioners—the ones who owned factories and went very quiet in their pews whenever Father read from the Epistle of St James.

What had Miss Falconer told me? Be dull and available. I tried, but I had a horrible feeling I only looked like I’d eaten something that didn’t agree with me (which wasn’t true—the lamb was delicious).

What was the dullest thing I could think of? Ah! I had it. “Have you ever attended a charity bazaar, sir?” I asked.

it was unpleasant to be held to account for the errors of one’s ancestors during a waltz.

“If being eaten is a form of flattery, I am happy to be insulted,”

How thin was the gilding of civilisation that lay over the cruelties of a selfish man.

“Father, I’ve just made a solemn promise to two people, to single-handedly save the man I love from a dreadful fate. And I haven’t the least idea how to go about fulfilling it.” “Well, my dear,” he said gravely. “I suggest you start by humbling yourself under the mighty hand of God.”

it would hardly do to cry on all the servants in turn. We didn’t pay them nearly enough for that.

“Janushek! You told me you were honest.” “I told you I was honest, except for the dishonest parts,” he reminded me. “That was one of them,” he added helpfully.