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“Of course. It is a travesty that poor His Grace so degraded our sister that I had no choice but to play the hero and avenge her honor, as none of the rest of these so-called gentlemen have been willing to do so,” she said, loud enough for all of London to hear. “Poor His Grace, indeed, that he was raised in this world that has deluded both itself and him into thinking that a title makes anything close to a gentleman, when he—along with most of his brethren, if one is honest—is a boor. And something much worse. That rhymes with boor.”
Sophie did not lower her voice when she said, “My only regret is that the pool was not deeper. And filled with sharks.”
“Excuse me, Lord Perfection, I did not have time to visit a modiste on the way.”
“We don’t need to know a person to know how to do right by them.”
“You’re so arrogant. I have half a mind to die just to prove you wrong.”
“He doused you in gin and slathered you with honey. While I wouldn’t turn away a cake that had received such a treatment, it seems a bit odd for medicinal purposes.”
There was nothing in the wide world worse than an arrogant Scot.
