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November 13 - November 13, 2024
“Indeed, Father dear, I prefer my current, delightful predic-ament of being wholly unattached—except to my fictional heroes, of course. It’s a perfect occupation for watching Lillias’s romantic story unfold without having to delve into it myself.”
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Social engagements interfered with the most delightful bookish discoveries.
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Oh, if Lillias found out she was in the library instead of taking a bath, she’d never hear the end of it. But who wouldn’t delay bubbles for a conversation featuring the dastardly Mr. Rochester?
Oh heavens! A man who reminded her of chocolate-covered English toffee. Wouldn’t Lillias adore him! She loved toffee!
“Oh, I devour books.” She tugged the novel against her chest. “It’s a disastrous habit for being productive, I’m afraid.”
If the girl has no objections and you have no qualms about ushering her into the disaster which is your family, I don’t see why this should change your mind about the arrangement at all.
“Actually, I do talk to myself quite often, but in this particular instance I was praying aloud, so unless you’re one of the growing number of atheists in the world, you were interrupting a quite honest conversation for guidance.”
“But if another strange occurrence transpires, Lord Astley, I am bound by marriage vows to protect you as much as you are to protect me, so then we shall see.”
She took a few bites of toast and finished every strawberry on her plate, then proceeded to encourage him to share the remainder of his strawberries too.
“You need to get married, Blake.” “No.” He frowned and shook his head. “It’s much less troublesome and more entertaining to criticize those who are already in the thick of it.”
Grace attempted to hit another croquet ball toward the hoop but only succeeded in shaking the wire arch with an impressive clod of grass. This sport was too much like golf to be enjoyable.
