Mr. Impossible (Carsington Brothers, #2)

by Loretta Chase

She’d gone with him once to Giza and explored the two pyramids it was possible to enter. Neither contained any hieroglyphic writing, although various visitors had scratched their profound thoughts upon the stones, e.g., “Suverinus loves Claudia.”

LOL.

“I know that you hold it by the handle and the sharp end is the part you stick in,” she whispered impatiently. “What else do I need to know?” “Hold it with the sharp end aimed upward rather than downward,” he said. “More control, better aim that way.”

“I’m a man,” he said with what he was sure must be, in the circumstances, saintly patience. “I can do one or the other. Lovemaking or thinking. But not both at the same time.”

“Here it is. Quite simple. The woman says to the man, ‘I give myself up to thee.’ This is usually done before witnesses, but they are not necessary. The dowry is a fraction of that for a virgin.

Clearly this was foreshadowing

“I’ll be hanged,” Miles said. “You really are in love with her.” The black eyes regarded him steadily. Then they regarded the cabin ceiling. Then the window. Then they came back to him. “Do you know,” Carsington said mildly, “I’ve been wondering what it was.”

His lordship will cheer up wonderfully when he sees what I’ve brought him.” “No exotic animals, I hope,” said Benedict. “He will tell you his family is menagerie enough.” “It isn’t an exotic animal,” Rupert said. “No mummies,” said Benedict. “Mother dislikes the smell.” “As do I,” Rupert said. “It isn’t a mummy.” “I refuse to play guessing games,” Benedict said. “You may tell me or not at your leisure. I, meanwhile, had better go in ahead and prepare our parents for your resurrection.” He turned away. “It’s a wife,” Rupert said. Benedict turned back. “Whose wife?” he said.

I guffawed