Kat

“A condition?" Her eyebrows crinkled together, and Rafe could all but see little cogs turning behind them. "Is it..." She lowered her voice. "Is it serious?"
"Sadly, yes. Possibly fatal."
She covered her gasp with both hands. Because, apparently, one hand wouldn't have been dramatic enough. "No. But surely something can be done. What is it?"
"I don't know. I was unconscious when the doctor saw me. Lord Rafe can explain it better." Bruiser nudged him in the ribs. "Go on, then. Tell her the whole story of my malady. In detail. With all the particulars. What did that German doctor call it?"
Rafe gave her a single, unembroidered word. "Syphilis."
The lady's maid turned a pale shade of green. She began backing away in small steps. "I just came to say Miss Whitmore is looking for you, my lord."
With that, she dropped a frantic curtsy and fled.
The moment she was out of sight, Bruiser tweaked his ear. "You bloody jackass."
"What are you complaining about? I lied. She believed me.”
― Tessa Dare, Say Yes to the Marquess

“From Chapter 1:

Isabel went into the kitchen. Their butterball of a beagle wagged his tail and peered up at her with his soulful brown eyes. He was eager to get his reward for looking cute as a button, and he knew she was a pushover.”
― Ed Lynskey, To Dye For

“You're remarkably uninteresting for a flying trollop.”
― K.J. Charles, Flight of Magpies

“It's bacon. How can anything in the world seem bleak when one is eating bacon?”
― Julia Quinn, The Girl with the Make-Believe Husband