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I suppose it runs in the family but why women have to gabble on and on endlessly, never a pause for breath, talk talk talk and gossip gossip gossip. A man can’t hear himself think. And I’ll tell you what else—”
Yes, it is, isn’t it? Dreadful, actually. Close to unbearable. Still, mustn’t grumble!
In fairness to Wildsmith, an engagement that could be broken on the unsupported word of a third party had probably not been destined to succeed.
He clearly understood people, and particularly the two most potent human desires of them all: to be found interesting, and to gossip about others.
“So the only people who could have known you wrote the letter in those circumstances were you, your lady friend—anyone else? Servants? A spare lady in the room?” “There’s no need to be sarcastic.” “And did you brag about your conquest? Tell a friend, make a story of it?” “Good heavens, man, what sort of fellow do you think I am?” Aaron restrained himself.
I absolutely adore Aaron. I will fight for him.
He hadn’t served in a war for people to go around not offering other people tea.
He ushered the slack-jawed policeman out. Then he put his back to the door, slid down to the floor, and laughed himself sick.
The thrill! The tension! THE TEASE! I'm screaming!
Maybe this was a new interrogation technique. You put someone in an embarrassing social position and they confessed everything just to get out of it.
“Constable Sefton?” Cassell said. “That turd.” “Oh.”
Oh is right LOL
“May I ask what happened?” “To my hand? Oh, funny story: I was shaving, someone startled me...” “What?” Wildsmith rolled his eyes. “Stray Jerry bullet, you berk.”
He needed to stop.
Oh, baby is he bit hard!
It had been a bit of a bitch to realise that the writer was the aforesaid Detective Sergeant but, Joel felt with the confidence of a man two pints in, nothing was insuperable.
“Supporting our wounded heroes is one of many things that people feel passionately must be done, by somebody else.”
Fowler arrived right on time, of course. Joel couldn’t prevent himself smiling. “Hello, Detective Sergeant.” “You really don’t have to call me that. How are you?” “Very well. Tea? Kettle’s on.” “I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t.”
So... When I was little, if I ever read something I, like, REALLY liked, I bit the page. I was the bane of library books. KJ Charles makes me feral again, I swear. Be glad this is an ebook, because if I had this is in paperback, it would be decorated with teeth marks.
Fowler made a sharp exit. Joel stared at the closed door for a while and then walked over and banged his head on it, hard.
Same, honey.
Aaron shut his eyes. He’d found Wildsmith by turn bewildering, provocative, alarming, infuriating, arousing. He thought this kindness might be the most devastating facet yet.
He was a forward-thinking young man who’d come to England to study, recoiled in horror at the food, and seen a gap in the market for feeding his equally appalled compatriots. Business was thriving.
How come restaurant proprietors are so helpful to you?” “I’ve evicted a couple of tiresome customers, both here and at Shafi’s. I like to stay on the right side of good food.” “Wise.”
Protect Aaron at all costs.
Aaron wasn’t sure how this level of aggressive sarcasm could make him feel so warm inside.
“You’ve no idea what you’re getting into.” “Bloody right I don’t. You’re the policeman, you solve the crime. I’m here for moral support, handwriting analysis, and the occasional Frenching to keep your pecker up.”
God love Joel. Holy fuck hahahaha
“He said you’d thrust tea on me,” Challice remarked. “He said you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. If the house was burning around your ears, he says you’d put a kettle on the flames.” “Yes, all right, you’re definitely from him,” Joel muttered.
“You are the most aggravating man who has ever walked the earth,” Aaron said with feeling. “Thank you; I try.”
I don’t want your gratitude, your thanks, or your obligation,” Joel said. “I simply want wholehearted admiration of my courage, integrity, and intelligence, which can be demonstrated by a good shagging at any time.”
Yes sir! [Salute]
He paused, inspiration striking. “Actually, I could name you one.” “Who’s that?” “Someone a lot more interesting than me,” Joel said, making very direct eye contact.
Oh, he is such a bitch, I love him.
“News?” “Colthorne just shot himself on the doorstep of Scotland Yard.” “God, I can’t stand bad losers,” Joel said, which felt like all the epitaph Aaron cared to hear. “Shall we go to bed?”
Hahahahahhahahahaha!
The graphological quotation in Chapter Two comes from Analysis of Handwriting by HJ Jacoby; regrettably, the whole book is like that.
IT IS! I READ IT! It's... pretty awful, actually. Glad I got it off an estate sale as a "free to a good home" take away. I am still trying to decide if it deserves it.
