A Rogue of Her Own (Windham Brides, #4)

by Grace Burrowes

“Or I’d rescue her ladyship. You are not the tame gentleman you impersonate.” “Thank you. One fears that a charade perpetrated too earnestly will become reality.”

“I like you,” she said. “Somewhat. A little. I don’t dislike you.” “My heart pounds with joy to hear it. I don’t dislike you either.”

“Kiss me.” Charlotte never, ever complied with orders given by men, but she occasionally compromised. In this case, she closed her eyes, raised her chin, and wondered if truly her reason hadn’t already departed. “You kiss me,” she said. Sherbourne obeyed her.

Turnbull said more with silence than most bishops could communicate in an entire sermon.

She was lying, and she was telling the truth.

“We would suit like a lit taper suits tinder.

“I’m preoccupied,” Charlotte said, the grandmama of all understatements, surely.

“Marriage is an adventure for two. Look for the good in him, the same as you would with any friend. Give him your loyalty and the benefit of the doubt, find things to laugh about together, and don’t worry if the early days are a bit bumpy. That’s part of it.”

If a woman is pleased with her new spouse, he’ll know it until he’s sore and exhausted.

Polite society hasn’t grown that priggish, has it?” “Sherbourne,” the duke said gently, “you are married to the granddaughter of a duke, the sister of two duchesses, the cousin of countless titles. You are now polite society, which ought to restore anybody’s faith in miracles.

A gentleman didn’t argue with a lady when she was right.

Sherbourne kissed her on the mouth. “I’ve been wanting to do that since you knocked my arrow from its path at Haverford’s house party this summer.”

If Lucas Sherbourne were any more confident, he’d appoint himself Minister Plenipotentiary of the Universe for Life.

“I am in the presence of a monument to perspicacity.” “Five entire syllables in one word.” “Meaning to count them, you had to use every finger on one hand, but do you know what the word means, Your Grace?” Haverford’s brows rose, and then his lips twitched. “That’s very good. I must remember to use it on Radnor.”