More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
The worst kind of alone, Pandora thought morosely, was being the only person in a crowd who wasn’t having a good time.
“You seem to be having some difficulty with that settee,” the stranger remarked. “As a rule, I don’t recommend the headfirst approach, as it tends to complicate the seating process.”
“I’m not posing. My dress is caught in the settee. And I would be much obliged if you would help me out of it!” “The dress or the settee?” the stranger asked, sounding interested.
Pandora decided to take another tack. “You do not want to marry me, my lord. I would be the worst wife imaginable. I’m forgetful and stubborn, and I can never sit still for more than five minutes. I’m always doing things I shouldn’t. I eavesdrop on other people, I shout and run in public, and I’m a clumsy dancer. And I’ve lowered my character with a great deal of unwholesome reading material.” Pausing to draw breath, she noticed that Lord St. Vincent didn’t appear properly impressed by her list of faults. “Also, my legs are skinny. Like a stork’s.”
You anticipate marital ennui, which, forgive me, is a pinnacle of arrogance unmatched by anyone except myself when I was your age.
“Many people believe marriage will change a man’s temperament. Which is absolute rot, of course. One can’t love a leopard into changing his spots.”
Devon looked slightly uncomfortable as he continued. “I know how a proper courtship is supposed to be conducted. However, Kathleen was never allowed a single moment alone with Theo until they married, and the results were disastrous. I’m damned if I know how else a woman is to evaluate a potential husband other than to have at least a few private conversations with him.”
“Whatever happens, we Ravenels will remain loyal to each other. We’ll never sacrifice one for the sake of the rest.”
Cassandra moved industriously around her, walloping at her skirts and sending black hairs floating into the air. “They’re going to like you—” Thwack. “—if only—” Thwack. Thwack. “—you’ll be nice to them.”
“It’s not gossip when it’s about weather, it’s only gossip when it’s something you know you shouldn’t be listening to.”
“He’ll catch the pox someday,” Pandora persisted darkly, “if he hasn’t already. And then he’ll give it to me.” “You’re being dramatic. And not all rakes have the pox.” “I’m going to ask him if he does.” “Pandora, you wouldn’t!
Pandora definitely would 😂
If people think you’re dishonored, it’s no different from actually having been dishonored, except you still don’t know anything.
The word “mistress” sounds like a cross between mistake and mattress.
“The point is,” she told her sister with great dignity, “I have no need of toys to keep me occupied.” Cassandra was looking through the open window with the binoculars. “I can see a butterfly across the road,” she marveled, “as clearly as if it were sitting on my finger.” Pandora sat up instantly. “Let me have a look.”
Instead she found herself caught by his arrested stare, while the silence seemed to wrap around them. After a moment, Lord St. Vincent said softly, “Carrots.”
😂
“She was assaulted and knocked to the ground,” Lord St. Vincent began to explain. “Surely you don’t know her well enough for that yet.”
As Pandora hesitated, thoroughly intimidated, he assured her, “I’m quite trustworthy. In fact, I’m very nearly an angel. You’ll come to love me in no time.”
“I wouldn’t mind talking about weather with you, Your Grace,” Pandora said ingenuously. The duke laughed gently. “What a delightful girl.”
“Gabriel—” the duchess began, but fell silent as he slid her a glance of bright mischief. The duke regarded his son dubiously. “If you’re trying to be charming,” he said, “I should tell you that it’s not going well.”
“What kind of flower is that?” “Sea bindweed.” Lord St. Vincent guided her face back to his. “Are you trying to distract me, or did that question just pop into your head?” “Both?” she offered sheepishly.
“Could you help me understand why?” he asked, relaxed and patient.
This was the first time she’d truly been able to relax after days of anguish and guilt. He was so large and substantial that she felt like a small wild creature who’d just found refuge. She let out a quivering sigh of relief, a regrettably childish sound, and he began to stroke her again. “Poor mite,” he murmured. “You’ve had a time of it, haven’t you? Relax. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” Pandora didn’t believe that, of course, but it felt so lovely to be treated like this, soothed and coddled into a good humor.
“No, but according to a book I once read, Phenomena Produced By Diseases Of The Nervous System, it’s very likely that I have hyperesthesia or periodic mania, or both.” Pandora paused with a frown. “Why are you smiling? It’s not nice to laugh at other people’s diseases.”
Fact #15 she would write in her book later. Today I found out why chaperones were invented.
Pandora had no idea how to respond. “Are you mocking me?” she demanded. Laughter danced in his eyes. “Pandora,” he chided, “don’t you know when someone is flirting with you?”
“Are you coming to the beach,” she asked her brother irritably, “or are you going to seduce the poor girl in the middle of the holloway?”
Amusement filtered through his voice. “Does your mind ever slow down, sweetheart?” “Not even for sleeping,” she said.
She was beautiful. Complex. Frustrating. He’d never met a woman who was so wholly and resolutely herself. What the devil was he going to do about her?
He had no desire to bully her into it, and he doubted that was possible anyway. Nor did he want to take away her choices. He wanted to be her choice.
Good God, she really did walk in circles. A pang of tenderness centered in Gabriel’s chest like an ache. He wanted all her circles to lead back to him.
“Oh, my dear . . .” Phoebe said tenderly. “You’re the brother who taught Raphael to sail a skiff, and showed Justin how to tie his shoes. You’re the man who carried Henry down to the trout stream, when he wanted to go fishing one last time.”
“I don’t know why girls keep changing their fashions every few months and making such a fuss about it,” Ivo said. “We men had a meeting a long time ago, and we all decided, ‘It’s trousers.’ And that’s what we’ve worn ever since.”
“What about the Scots?” Seraphina asked slyly. “They couldn’t give up their kilts,” Ivo said reasonably, “because they’d become so accustomed to having the air swirling around their—” “Knees,” Gabriel interrupted with a grin, tousling Ivo’s gleaming red hair.
Oh God, no, no. Too upset to guard her tongue, she burst out, “I knew it. You have the pox.” Gabriel shot her a startled look. The quiver of arrows dropped to the ground with a clatter. “What?”
“I’ve never had the pox,” he interrupted. “Which one?” “All of them.” Her eyes turned huge. “You’ve had all of them?” “No, damn it—”
“Ivo, weren’t you put in charge of managing this lot? It’s time to demonstrate some leadership.” “This is leadership,” Ivo informed him. “I’m the one who led them in here.”
“Being imaginative and playful doesn’t make you any less of an adult,” Gabriel said gently. “It only makes you a more interesting one.”
Pandora snorted. “After what my sister Helen told me about the conjugal embrace, I can’t fathom why any woman would willingly consent to it. But I suppose if any man could make it slightly less revolting than it sounds, it would be you.” “Thank you,” Gabriel said, sounding bemused. “I think.”
“Why?” he whispered after a long moment. “Because hurting me was the only way to hide his own pain.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know when a man wants you. Even you’re not that naïve.”
A quiet laugh broke from him. He’d never known it was possible to be this amused and aroused at the same time.
“Darling, let me leave you with a thought: There’s very little in life that doesn’t require a compromise of one kind or another. No matter what you choose, it won’t be perfect.”
Kathleen smiled. “But wouldn’t it be dull if ever-after was always happy, with no difficulties or problems to solve? Ever-after is far more interesting than that.”
“I have the slipper,” he said. “Oh, thank goodness. Because my lady’s maid is on the brink of reporting it to Scotland Yard.”
If he’d written something not nice, she didn’t want to read that either. “By the holy poker,” Ida exclaimed, “just open it!”
A hairbrush dropped from Ida’s lax fingers. Her eyes were like saucers as she met Pandora’s gaze in the vanity mirror. “You’re refusing to marry the heir to the Duke of Kingston because you’d rather work?” “I like work,” Pandora said curtly. “Only because you don’t have to do it all the time!” A thunderous expression contorted Ida’s round face.
A mood, honestly
Fuming, she looked at Phoebe and spread her palms upward, as if to ask what could be done with such an impossible human being. Phoebe gave her a commiserating glance. “We have two perfectly nice parents,” she said. “I have no idea how he turned out this way.”
Phoebe gave her a slight, reassuring smile. “I like you, Pandora. Nothing will change that.” Some of Pandora’s anguished shame faded, and she took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Don’t smile at me,” Pandora said. “I’m angry at you.” “I know,” he said gently. “I’m sorry.”
In that moment, Pandora realized it would kill her not to have him. She might actually expire of heartbreak.
