More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Was there anything in life more pleasurable than the sensation of striking a dark line through an item on one’s list with a pencil? Yes. There was the visceral sensation of taking out one’s pencil and striking a dark line through the last item on one’s daily list. Finishing a list had an almost talismanic quality, as if the act of turning intentions into words, then words into deeds, carried a subtle magic.
It had been impossible to hide the fact that he had means. His clothing, his accent, his manners, his ability to patronize businesses in Wedgeford… these were all too indicative of his class. But it was easy enough to misdirect. Nobody saw a half-Chinese boy of thirteen and thought, “By George, that child must be a duke.”
Wedgeford was largely built on property that belonged to one man: The Duke of Lansing. Unfortunately, this happened to be Jeremy.
Dear God. Why would he want rent on a minor property when he could have companionship instead?
Please never kiss a man who doesn’t think you deserve his effort.”
“I want my wife to intimidate me. I want to know that her enemies will all fall before her. That’s the kind of woman I want by my side. She had better be intimidating.”
“The place you are,” Mr. Fong said, “is not permanent. Stop waiting. Work with what you have and who you are to make what you want to be. I am waiting to see what you will discover.”
I could only say that you make me feel like the home I want to live in.”
“It’s not foreign. That sauce was fermented here, with yeasts found in Wedgeford. The idea came from here. It was made here. If tea is British, this sauce is British. If this sauce is British, I am British, and my wife is British, and my children will be British. I need not change myself to belong. I already belong; it is the rest of England that is out of step.”
“I will not hear you speak of my mother that way. I will not hear you speak of my wife that way. And you will never tell my children that they are a mistake. Ever.”
“But Mama.” Chloe was faced with the most adorable pout. “No flavor. I don’t like it.”
She turned to Jeremy, holding up her board clip. “A perfect day! I finished everything on my list.” He took her arm and gave her cheek a kiss—a little too long, a little too lingering, promising that more was to come.
