The Truth About Lord Stoneville Quotes

“What are you doing here?" she asked.
"You forgot something when you left Halstead Hall," he said hoarsely.
"What?"
Her heart lept into her throat as he strode purposefully toward her. "Me.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“No one in life can ever match fiction”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Watch it, minx," he warned with a lift of his brow. "If you intend to taunt me for every foolish statement I've made in my life, you'll force me to play Rockton and lock you up in my dark, forbidding manor while I have my wicked way with you."
That sounds perfectly awful,"she said gazing at the man she loved. "How soon can we start?”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“To stop Maria before she ruined everything, he grabbed her about the waist, hauled her against him, and sealed his mouth to hers.

At first she seemed too stunned to do anything. When after a moment, he felt her trying to draw back from him, he caught her behind the neck with an iron grip.

"Oh," Gran said in a stiff voice. "Beg pardon."

Dimly he heard the door close and footsteps retreating, but before he could let Maria go, a searing pain shot through his groin, making him see stars. Blast her, the woman had kneed him in the ballocks!

As he doubled over, fighting to keep from passing out, she snapped, "That was for making me look like a whore, too!”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Angel? Angels didn't sit on the lap of wicked scoundrels-not unless they were the fallen kind.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“She didn't want to think about how wrong this was or how foolish it was to give herself to a known seducer. Because tonight Oliver wasn't that man. Not to her. He was the boy who'd cried over his dead mother, the young man who'd lost himself in drink and women to forget the past, the marquess who'd vowed not to marry for money. He was the man to be her lover.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“How can you have such faith in me?” he asked hoarsely. “How can you believe in me when I’ve given you no reason?”
“You’ve given me plenty of reasons, but there’s only one that matters. I love you, Oliver. I can’t help myself. That is my reason.”
He began to shake, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I love you,” she repeated as she kissed his cheek. “I love you.” She kissed the other cheek, now damp, though she wasn’t sure whether from her tears or his. “I love you so much.” She brushed his lips with hers.
He held her back to search her face. “God help you if that is a lie,” he said in an aching voice. “Because those words have sealed your fate. I’ll never let you go, now.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Oliver’s voice said from the window, “It’s about time you returned.”
Startled, she dropped the pies.
Despite the shadows beneath his eyes, she’d never seen a more welcome sight. Even with his cravat badly tied, his black hair sticking out in all directions, and his expression uncertain, he made her breath catch in her throat.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“You forgot something when you left Halstead Hall,” he said hoarsely.
“What?”
Her heart leapt into her throat as he strode purposefully toward her. “Me.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Y-You love me?”
Gazing down at her pert nose and the freckles that made him think of an adorable pixie, he felt his throat constrict. “I want you every hour of the day. I can’t imagine a future without you in it. The idea of returning to my empty house alone is so hellish that I’d rather wander the world at your heels than be without you. Tell me, is that love?”
She cast him a blazing smile. “It sounds like it.”
“Then I love you, my wonderful, sword-wielding, tart-tongued angel. I want you to be my wife. I want you to preside over my table and accompany me to balls and share my bed.” A most uncharacteristic happiness surged through him. “And I want to have children with you, lots of them, filling every room in Halstead Hall.”
A sudden understanding lit her face. His clever love didn’t miss the fact that he was offering her not just himself, but everything else he’d neglected, as well. Everything that he wanted to put to rights. That he needed to put to rights.
“Not filling every room, I hope,” she teased, even as tears shone in her eyes. “There are three hundred, after all.”
“Then I suppose we’ll have to get started right away,” he said, matching her light tone. His heart near to bursting, he reached again for the buttons on the back of her gown. “These things should never be left until the last minute.”
As a laugh of pure joy bubbled out of her, she began to untie his cravat. “I can see you’re going to be quite the lusty husband, aren’t you?”
He stripped her gown from her, then turned her around to undo her stays. “You have no idea,” he murmured, and filled his hands with the breasts he’d freed.
Moaning, she pressed her bottom against him. “I have some idea.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“She gives just enough hints about him to make you wonder why he became so villainous. And if he dies, I’ll never learnt the answer.”
Oliver eyes her closely. “Perhaps he was born villainous.”
“No one is born villainous.”
“Oh?” he said with raised eyebrow. “So we’re all born good?”
“Neither. We start as animals, with an animal’s needs and desires. It takes parents and teachers and other good examples to show us how to restrain those needs and desires, when necessary, for the greater good. But it’s still our choice whether to heed that education or to do as we please.”
“For a woman who loves murder and mayhem, you’re quite the philosopher.”
“I like to understand how things work. Why people behave as they do.”
He digested that for a moment. “I happen to think that some of us, like Rockton, are born with a wicked bent.”
She chose her words carefully. “That certainly provides Rockton with a convenient excuse for his behavior.”
His features turned stony. “What do you mean?”
“Being moral and disciplined is hard work. Being wicked requires no effort at all-one merely indulges every desire and impulse, no matter how hurtful or immoral. By claiming to be born wicked, Rockton ensures that he doesn’t have to struggle to be god. He can just protest that he can’t help himself.”
“Perhaps he can’t,” he clipped out.
“Or maybe he’s simply unwilling to fight his impulses. And I want to know the reason for that. That’s why I keep reading Minerva’s books.”
Did Oliver actually believe he’d been born irredeemably wicked? How tragic! It lent a hopelessness to his life that helped to explain his mindless pursuit of pleasure.
“I can tell you the reason for Rockton’s villainy.” Oliver rose to round the desk. Propping his hip on the edge near her, he reached out to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear.
A sweet shudder swept over her. Why must he have this effect on her? It simply wasn’t fair. “Oh?” she managed.
“Rockton knows he can’t have everything he wants,” he said hoarsely, his hand drifting to her cheek. “He can’t have the heroine, for example. She would never tolerate his…wicked impulses. Yet he still wants her. And his wanting consumes him.”
Her breath lodged in her throat. It had been days since he’d touched her, and she hadn’t forgotten what it was like for one minute. To have him this near, saying such things…
She fought for control over her volatile emotions. “His wanting consumes him precisely because he can’t have her. If he thought he could, he wouldn’t want her after all.”
“Not true.” His voice deepening, he stroked the line of her jaw with a tenderness that roused an ache in her chest. “Even Rockton recognizes when a woman is unlike any other. Her very goodness in the face of his villainy bewitches him. He thinks if he can just possess that goodness, then the dark cloud lying on his soul will lift, and he’ll have something other than villainy to sustain him.”
“Then he’s mistaken.” Her pulse trebled as his finger swept the hollow of her throat. “The only person who can lift the dark cloud on his soul is himself.”
He paused in his caress. “So he’s doomed, then?”
“No!” Her gaze flew to his. “No one is doomed, and certainly not Rockton. There’s still hope for him. There is always hope.”
His eyes burned with a feverish light, and before she could look away, he bent to kiss her. It was soft, tender…delicious. Someone moaned, she wasn’t sure who. All she knew was that his mouth was on hers again, molding it, tasting it, making her hungry in the way that only he seemed able to do.
“Maria…” he breathed. Seizing her by the arms, he drew her up into his embrace. “My God, I’ve thought of nothing but you since that day in the carriage.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Stoneville seems like a decent enough chap.”
She stifled a hysterical laugh. “Oh, yes, quite decent. We met him in a brothel, and he’s blackmailing us into deceiving his grandmother.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“No wonder Gran had managed to run a brewery with such success for the past twenty-two years. She was a Machiavelli in skirts.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“I have this special license burning a hole in my pocket, so I was thinking we might go find a vicar and use it. Pinter and Freddy can be witnesses.” He looked anxiously at her. “What do you think?”
“Don’t you want your family present when we marry? I thought you lordly sorts had to have grand weddings.”
“Is that what you want?”
In truth, she’d never been one to dream of her wedding day as a brilliant spectacle. Clandestine weddings were always what captured her imagination, complete with a dangerous, brooding fellow and mysterious goings-on. In this instance, she had both.
He said, “Let me put it this way: we can spend an untold number of days sneaking around just to steal a kiss, being chaperoned every minute while my sisters and Gran plan the wedding of the century. Or we can marry today and share a bed at the inn tonight like a respectable husband and wife. I’m not keep on waiting, but then, I never am when it comes to you. So what is your opinion in the matter?”
She couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “I think you just want to punish your grandmother for her sly tactics by depriving her of the weddings.”
He smiled. “Perhaps a little. And God knows my friends are never going to let me live this down. I’m not looking forward to hours of their torment at a wedding breakfast.”
He stopped in a little copse where they would be hidden from the street. “But if you want a big wedding, I can endure it.” His expression was solemn as he took her hands in his. “I can endure anything, as long as you marry me. And keep loving me for the rest of your life.”
Staring into his earnest face, she felt something flip over in her chest. She stretched up to brush his mouth with hers, and he pulled her in for a long, ardent kiss.
“Well?” he said huskily when he was done. “If I had any sense of decency, I would give you a chance to consult with a lawyer about settlements and such, especially since you’ll be coming into some money. But-“
“-you have no sense of decency, I know,” she teased. She tapped her finger against her chin. “Or was that morals you claimed not to have? I can’t remember.”
“Watch it, minx,” he warned with a lift of his brow. “If you intend to taunt me for every foolish statement I’ve made in my life, you’ll force me to play Rockton and lock you up in my dark, forbidding manor while I have my wicked way with you.”
“That sounds perfectly awful,” she said, gazing at the man she loved. “How soon can we start?”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Half inebriated, he vaulted up the stairs to find them lolling in chairs in the hall outside Maria’s door. Gabe clasped a bunch of violets in his hand while Jarret held a rolled-up piece of parchment in his.
“What are you two louts doing here in the middle of the night?” he growled.
“It’s nearly dawn,” Gabe said coolly. “Hardly the middle of the night. Not that you would have noticed, in your drunken state.”
Scowling, Oliver took a step toward them. “It’s still earlier than you, at least, every rise.”
Gabe glanced at Jarret. “Clearly, the old boy doesn’t remember what today is.”
“I believe you’re right,” Jarret returned, a hint of condemnation in his tone.
Oliver glared at them both as he sifted through his soggy brain for what they menat. When it came to him, he groaned. St. Valentine’s Day. That sobered him right up. “That doesn’t explain why you’re lurking outside Maria’s door.”
Jarret cast him a scathing glance as he got to his feet. “Why do you care? You ran off to town to find your entertainment. Seems to me that you’re relinquishing the field.”
“So you two intend to step in?” he snapped.
“Why not?” Gabe rose to glower at him. “Since your plan to thwart Gran isn’t working, and it’s looking as if we’ll have to marry someone, we might as well have a go at Miss Butterfield. She’s an heiress and a very nice girl, too, in case you hadn’t noticed If you’re stupid enough to throw her over for a bunch of whores and opera dancers, we’re more than happy to take your place. We at least appreciate her finer qualities.”
The very idea of his brothers appreciating anything of Maria’s made his blood boil. “In the first place, I didn’t throw her over for anyone. In the second, I am damned well not relinquishing the field. And I’m certainly not giving it over to a couple of fortune hunters like you.”
The sound of footsteps coming down the hall from the servants’ stairs made them whirl in that direction. Betty walked slowly toward them, one hand shading her eyes.
That’s when it hit him. His brothers were here because of that silly superstition about a maiden’s heart being joined to that of whoever was the first man she spotted on St. Valentine’s Day.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Betty murmured as she approached, carefully avoiding looking at any of them.
A devilish grin lit Gabe’s face. “Betty, catch!” he cried and tossed a violet at her.
She didn’t even move a finger to stop it from bouncing off her and falling to the floor. “If your lordships will excuse me,” she said in a decidedly snippy tone, “my mistress rang the bell for me.” With a sniff that conveyed her contempt for them, she slipped inside Maria’s rom and shut the door firmly behind her.

“That was shameful,” Jarret told Gabe. “You know bloody well that Betty and John are sweethearts.”
“It’s not my fault that John didn’t show up this morning so she could see him first,” Gabe said with a shrug.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Now that is a sword,” Freddy said in awe as he went to look at an impressive saber hanging from the hat rack near the door.
“Stay away from it,” she cautioned. “I’m sure it’s sharper than yours.”
As usual, Freddy ignored her. “Just think what I could do with this,” he said as he lifted it off its hook.
“So far I haven’t seen you do anything with a sword, my boy,” Oliver remarked dryly. “Though I shudder to think what your cousin would attempt.”
Maria glared at Oliver, which only made him laugh. Meanwhile, Freddy unsheathed the saber with a flourish.
“Curse it, Freddy, put it back,” Maria ordered.
“What a fine piece of steel.” Freddy swished it through the air. “Even the one Uncle Adam gave me isn’t near so impressive.”
Maria appealed to Oliver. “Do something, for pity’s sake. Make him stop.”
“And get myself skewered for the effort? No, thank you. Let the pup have his fun.”
Freddy cast him a belligerent glance. “You wouldn’t call me a pup if I came at you with this.”
“No, I’d call you insane,” Oliver drawled. “But you’re welcome to try and see what happens.”
Don’t encourage him,” Maria told Oliver.
The door opened suddenly, and Freddy whirled with the sword in hand, knocking a lamp off the desk. As the glass chimney shattered, spilling oil in a wide arc, the wick lit the lot, and fire sprang to life.
Maria jumped back with a cry of alarm while Oliver leaped out of his chair to stamp it out, first with his boots and then with his coat. A string of curses filled the air, most of them Oliver’s, though Freddy got in a few choice ones as the fire licked at his favorite trousers.
When at last Oliver put the flames out and nothing was left but a charred circle on the wood floor, dotted with shards of glass, the three of them turned to the door to find a dark-haired man observing the scene with an expression that gave nothing away.
“If you hoped to catch my attention,” he remarked, “you’ve succeeded.”
“Mr. Pinter, I presume?” Oliver said, tossing his now ruined coat and singed gloves into a nearby rubbish pail. “I hope you’ll forgive us for the dramatic intrusion. I’m Stonevi-“
“I know who you are, my lord,” he interrupted. “It’s what you’re doing here setting fire to my office that I’m not certain of.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“You didn't do anything to her, did you?"
"Nothing that would provoke her to flee." Except ruin her for any other man. And offer her a marriage of the sort she found appalling. And desire her with an intensity that made his throat close up at the thought of her gone.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Beneath all his reckless remarks, he is a good man. And he genuinely wants to marry you-after last night at the ball I am certain of that much. So accept his offer, for God's sake. And give me great-grandchildren. That is all I want."
"And what about what I want?"
"You want him. I can see it whenever you look at him, the same way I can see it in his eyes whenever he looks at you.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“You sound like Gran.”
“I don’t mind. I’m beginning to like her.”
“I like her, too-when she’s not plaguing the hell out of me.”
Maria eyed him curiously. “Why do you curse so much around me? Other men don’t. And you don’t curse around other women, as far as I can tell. So why around me?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can be myself around you, I suppose. And since I’m a foulmouthed son of a bitch in general-“
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t say that. You’re not as bad as you’re always making out.” Then realizing that people were noticing her intimate gesture, she returned her hand to his shoulder.
“That’s not what you thought earlier,” he said in a rough rasp. His hand swept her waist surreptitiously, as if he couldn’t keep from caressing her.
“Let’s just say I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
They finished the waltz in a silence that only increased her agitation. His eyes couldn’t seem to leave her face, nor hers his. Every step together seemed to bring them closer, until she was sure they were dancing far too close for propriety. Yet she didn’t care. It was pure bliss.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“If it’s any consolation,” he murmured, “I had a miserable time last night.”
“Good. You deserved to.” She smiled. “Not that I care one way or the other.”
“Stop pretending that you don’t care,” he said hoarsely. “We both care, and you know it. I care more than you can possibly imagine.”
She wanted to believe him, but how could she? “You say that only to coax me into your bed.”
He smiled mirthlessly. “I don’t need to coax women into my bed, my dear. They usually leap there of their own accord.” His smile faded. “This is the first time I’ve apologized to a woman. I’ve never given a damn what any woman thought of me, though plenty of them tried to make me do so. So please forgive me if I’m not handling this to your satisfaction. It’s not a situation I’m accustomed to.”
He was holding her so tenderly, it made her want to weep. Every move they made was a seduction-his leg advancing as hers went back, his hand gripping her waist, the waltz beating a rhythm that made her want to whirl around the ballroom with him forever. Her mind told her she should resist him, but her heart didn’t want to listen.
Her heart was a fool.
She gazed past his shoulder. “My father used to go to a brothel. He never remarried, so he went there to…er…feed his needs. I had to go fetch him a few times when my cousins were working and my aunt was looking after my grandmother, who lived nearby.”
She didn’t know why she was telling him this, but it was a relief to speak of it to someone. Even her aunt and cousins preferred to pretend it never happened. “It was mortifying. He would…forget to come home, and we would need money for something, so I would have to go after him.”
“Good God.”
Her gaze locked with his. “I swore I’d never let myself be put in such a position again.” She tipped up her chin. “That’s why I’m happy to have Nathan as my fiancé. He’s genteel and proper. He would never frequent a brothel.”
Oliver’s eyes glittered darkly at her. “No. He would just abandon you to the tender mercies of men who do.”
She forced a smile. “There’s more than one way to be abandoned. If a woman’s husband is forever at a brothel, he might as well be halfway across the sea. The result is the same.”
A stricken expression crossed his face as he stared at her. Then he glanced away.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Forgive me,” he said tightly. “That was uncalled for.”
“It certainly was,” Maria said. “She was saying nice things about you.”
His gaze shot to her. “She was pointing out, yet again, how I’ve failed my family.”
“If you don’t like it,” Maria countered, “why don’t you stop failing them?”
“Touche, Maria,” Minerva said softly.
Gritting his teeth, Oliver turned his gaze out the window, no doubt wishing he could be well away from them all. And as he retreated into himself, Minerva began to tell one story after another about Oliver as a boy.
Maria didn’t want to be enchanted by them, but she couldn’t help herself. She laughed at the tale of how he’d fallen into the pond in front of Halstead Hall while trying to “charm” fish into the boat the way Indians charmed snakes out of their baskets. She tried not to laugh at the one where he coaxed Gabe into sharing Gabe’s piece of cake by claiming that it might have been poisoned, requiring Oliver to “taste it and make sure it was safe.”
But the tale about some lad pulling five-year-old Minerva’s hair, and Oliver jumping to her rescue by punching Minerva’s attacker, made Maria want to cry. The Oliver who’d defended his sister still existed-she glimpsed him from time to time. So where had the other, carefree Oliver gone? His siblings didn’t seem nearly as bitter over the tragedy of their parents’ deaths as he. Was it simply because he’d been older? Or did something else about it plague him?”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“Maria managed to avoid Oliver for most of St. Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t difficult-apparently he spent half of it sleeping off his wild night. Not that she cared one bit. She’d learned her lesson with him. Truly she had. Not even the beautiful bouquet of irises he’d sent up to her room midafternoon changed that.
Now that she was dressing for tonight’s ball, she was rather proud of herself for having only thought of him half a dozen times. Per hour, her conscience added.
“There, that’s the last one,” Betty said as she tucked another ostrich feather into Maria’s elaborate coiffure.
According to Celia, the new fashion this year involved a multitude of feathers drooping from one’s head in languid repose. Maria hoped hers didn’t decide to find their repose on the floor. Betty seemed to have used a magical incantation to keep them in place, and Maria wasn’t at all sure they would stay put.
“You look lovely, miss,” Betty added.
“If I do,” Maria said, “it’s only because of your efforts, Betty.”
Betty ducked her head to hide her blush. “Thank you, miss.”
It was amazing how different the servant had been ever since Maria had taken Oliver’s advice to heart, letting the girl fuss over her and tidy her room and do myriad things that Maria would have been perfectly happy to do for herself. But he’d proved to be right-Betty practically glowed with pride. Maria wished she’d known sooner how to treat them all, but honestly, how could she have guessed that these mad English would enjoy being in service? It boggled her democratic American mind.
Casting an admiring glance down Maria’s gown of ivory satin, Betty said, “I daresay his lordship will swallow his tongue when he sees you tonight.”
“If he does, I hope he chokes on it,” Maria muttered.
With a sly glance, Betty fluffed out the bouffant drapery of white tulle that crossed Maria’s bust and was fastened in the center with an ornament of gold mosaic. “John says the master didn’t touch a one of those tarts at the brothel last night. He says that his lordship refused every female that the owner of the place brought before him.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
Paying her no heed, Betty continued her campaign to salvage her master’s dubious honor. “Then Lord Stoneville went to the opera house and left without a single dancer on his arm. John says he never done that before.”
Maria rolled her eyes, though a part of her desperately wanted to believe it was true-a tiny, silly part of her that she would have to slap senseless.
Betty polished the ornament with the edge of her sleeve. “John says he drank himself into a stupor, then came home without so much as kissing a single lady. John says-“
“John is inventing stories to excuse his master’s actions.”
“Oh no, miss! John would never lie. And I can promise you that the master has never come home so early before, and certainly not without…that is, at the house in Acton he was wont to bring a tart or two home to…well, you know.”
“Help him choke on his tongue?” Maria snapped as she picked up her fan.
Betty laughed. “Now that would be a sight, wouldn’t it? Two ladies trying to shove his tongue down his throat.”
“I’d pay them well to do it.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“I’m the first man you saw today,” he pointed out, “so I’m officially your valentine.”
She let out a harsh laugh. “Because of a silly superstition? I think not.”
“Because I want to be,” he said in a low voice. “And because you want me to be, too.”
Her gaze would have skewered a stone. “Want a drunken debaucher fresh from some whore’s bed as my valentine? Not if you were the last man on earth.”
She slammed the door in his face.
His brothers laughed, but he ignored them. He couldn’t blame her for being angry; he’d given her good reason to be so.
But it didn’t change a thing. He’d be damned if he let her go now. One way or the other, Maria Butterfield was going to be his. One way or the other, she would share his bed.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“You and I both know that Lord Stoneville sees me only as a means to an end.”
“That’s not true,” Freddy said earnestly. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. It’s how I look at the last bit of bacon on the serving plate. He likes you.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“And you like him, too.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “I like Nathan.”
“But if Mr. Pinter doesn’t find Nathan-“
“Then we’ll go home and hope Nathan doesn’t take too long in returning.”
“You could marry Lord Stoneville,” Freddy said.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“You’ll definitely find one or two of the maids walking about tomorrow morning with their hands over their eyes for fear they’ll see the wrong man before they meet up with their sweethearts.” He gestured to Gabe. “That joker there likes to ask them to pick something up, just to see if they can do it with their eyes closed. He’s a devil that way.”
“It serves them right to be thwarted if they’re foolish enough to participate in such a ridiculous superstition.” Mrs. Plumtree said with a snort. “I’d never let any of my servants do it. It smacks of country ignorance.”
“I think it’s romantic,” Celia said dreamily. “You let Fate choose your mate. The stars align, and suddenly you’re confronted with the man of your dreams.”
“Or the man of your nightmares,” Maria bit out, thinking of how Fate had thrown her into Oliver’s power a week ago. “Fate can be rather fickle in that respect, if you ask me. I wouldn’t trust Fate with my future.”
Minerva eyed her over her glass of wine. “Probably a wise policy.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“We have to find a way to push them together,” Minerva said. “You know perfectly well that if Oliver marries, Gran will forget this ridiculous idea of hers about the rest of us marrying. She just wants him to produce an heir”
Hetty’s eyebrows shot high. Her granddaughter had a big surprise coming down the road.
“And you’re willing to throw him under the wheels of the coach to save yourself, is that it?” Jarret quipped.
“No!” Her voice softened. “You and I both know he needs someone to drag him out of himself. Or he’s just going to get scarier as he gets older.” She paused. “Did you tell him about Miss Butterfield’s being an heiress?”
That certainly arrested Hetty’s attention. She hadn’t dreamed that the girl had money.
“Yes, but I fear that might have been a mistake-when I suggested that he marry her for her fortune, he got angry.”
Of course he got angry, you fool, Hetty thought with a roll of her eyes. Honestly, did her grandson know nothing about his brother?
“For goodness sake, Jarret, you weren’t supposed to suggest that. You were supposed to get him concerned that she might fall prey to fortune hunters.”
At least Minerva had a brain.
“Damn,” Jarret said. “Then I probably shouldn’t have exaggerated the amount.”
“Oh, Lord.” Minerva sighed. “By how much?”
“I kind of…tripled it.”
Minerva released an unladylike oath. “Why did you do that? Now he won’t go near her. Haven’t you noticed how much he hates talk of marrying for money?”
“Men say things like that, but in the end they’re practical.”
“Not Oliver! You’ve just ruined everything!”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jarret said. “Besides, I have a plan-I laid the seeds for it before I even left Oliver’s study. Come, let’s go talk to the others. It will take all of us working together.” His voice receded as the two of them apparently left the room. “If we merely…”
Hetty strained to hear, but she lost the thread of the conversation. Not that it mattered.
A smile tugged at her mouth. It appeared she would not have to carry off this match alone. All she need do was sit back and watch Jarret work on Oliver. In the meantime, she would let Minerva go on thinking that finding Oliver a wife would solve their dilemma. That would spur the girl to try harder.
In the end, it didn’t matter why or how they managed it, as long as they did. Thank God her grandchildren had inherited her capacity for scheming. It made her proud.
So Oliver thought he was going to get around her this time, did he? Well, he was in for a shock. This time he had more than just her to worry about. And with every one of the Sharpe children on Miss Butterfield’s side? She laughed.
Poor Oliver didn’t stand a chance.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“He’s rumored to have more bravery than sense.”
“Then he and Gabe make a good pair,” Oliver growled.
“Lay off of him, will you?” Jarret told Oliver. Closest to being a blend of their parents, he had black hair but blue-green eyes and no trace of Oliver’s Italian features. “You’ve been ragging him ever since that stupid carriage race. He was drunk. It’s a state you ought to be familiar with.”
Oliver whirled on Jarret. “Yes, but you were not drunk, yet you let him-“
“Don’t blame Jarret,” Gabe put in. “Chetwin challenged me to it. He would have branded me a coward if I’d refused.”
“Better a coward than dead.” Oliver had no tolerance for such idiocy. Nothing was worth risking one’s life for-not a woman, not honor, and certainly not reputation. A pity that he hadn’t yet impressed that upon his idiot brothers.
Gabe, of all people, ought to know better. The course he’d run was the most dangerous in London. Two large boulders flanked the path so closely that only one rig could pass between them, forcing a driver to fall back at the last minute to avoid being dashed on the rocks. Many was the time drivers pulled out too late.
The sporting set called it “threading the needle.” Oliver called it madness.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“. . . You've been striking at her ghost, screaming, 'If you didn't want me to turn out like him, you should have stayed to stop me!'
As his throat worked convulsively, she covered his hands with hers. 'But she can't hear you. So all you're doing is trudging a path that isn't your own, growing more weary of it by the day, wanting more from your existence but believing you're cursed to having less. That is no sort of life for anyone. . .'
'How can you have such faith in me?' he asked hoarsely. 'How can you believe in me when I’ve given you no reason?'
'You've given me plenty of reasons, but there’s only one that matters. I love you, Oliver. I can’t help myself. That is my reason.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“You were never as much to blame as you thought,” she told him softly.
A brief smile touched his lips. “That’s what you say. But you’re biased.”
She shrugged. “Maybe a little. But I would never have agreed to marry you if I’d thought you capable of real wickedness. I wouldn’t have risked having a child of mine suffer the same torments you and your siblings suffered.”
Oliver went still. “And does this sudden mention of some future child have anything to do with your sneaking out of the house to consult with a physician this morning?”
She gaped at him. “You knew? How did you find out?”
“Believe me, angel, I know whenever you leave my bed.” His eyes gleamed at her. “I feel the loss of it right here.” He struck his heart dramatically.
“Aunt Rose spoke the truth about you,” she grumbled. “You are a smooth-tongued devil. And apparently you read minds, as well.”
He chuckled. “Your aunt simply cannot keep secrets. But to be honest, it’s not been hard to notice how little interest you show in your breakfast these days, and how often you like to nap. I know the signs of a woman with child. I watched my mother go through them with four children.”
“And here I was hoping to surprise you,” she said with a pout. “I swear you are impossible to surprise.”
“That’s only because you used up all your surprises in the first hour of our meeting.”
“How so?”
“By boldly threatening me with Freddy’s sword. And by agreeing to my insane proposal. Then by showing sympathy for the loss of my parents. Few people ever did that for me.”
As a lump caught in her throat, he pulled her into his arms. “But your greatest surprise came long after, on that day at the inn.” Laying his hand on her still flat belly, his voice grew husky. “You surprised me by loving me. That was the best surprise of all.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“So now Nathan had a new partner, who, by all accounts, was a dour old drudge with nary a daughter to his name. She’d seen Nathan in town once since then. He had not looked happy.
But she was insanely happy, especially after what the doctor had hold her yesterday. With only a few days left at home, she and Freddy had dragged Jane and Oliver on a romantic picnic. So far, it wasn’t going all that well. Poor Jane darted up at every sound. Freddy’s mischievous brothers had convinced her that wild Indians might descend upon them any minute, and no amount of Freddy’s posturing with the sword could relieve her fears.
Oliver was no help, either. He kept pretending to see feather headdresses behind every bush, though Maria had told him repeatedly that the only tribes in their area had left long ago. He was every bit as devilish as her cousins, who’d embraced him instantly as a man after their own heats. Aunt Rose had pronounced Oliver a smooth-tongued rogue the first time he told her how fetching she looked in her peacock bonnet.
Little did she know.
“Are you sure there’s a fish pond back there, Freddy?” Jane asked skeptically as Freddy led her around a deserted cabin.
“Quite sure.” He puffed out his chest. “I’ve caught many a fine trout in that pond.”
“More like trout bait,” Maria told Oliver, who was stretched out on the blanket beside her, reading a letter from Jarret. “I’ve never seen a fish longer than my thumb in that pond.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville

“I have to second Gran’s thanks for not giving up on me.”
“I did consider it a few times,” she teased. “But you can be such an engaging fellow that I never considered it for long.”
“And there was all that encouragement from my siblings,” he said. “All their little machinations to help our romance along.”
He had the satisfaction of watching his wife blush very prettily. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. I had no idea they were trying to ‘push you’ anywhere.”
“Of course you didn’t. You don’t have an ounce of guile in your entire body. But I knew what they were doing.”
She blinked at him. “You did?”
“My siblings are as transparent as that fetching night rail you put on every evening.”
“If you knew, why didn’t you fight them?”
“Because they were pushing me in a direction I wanted to go.”
“That’s very sweet, but I’m sure you had no desire to marry until-“
“From the moment I met you, sweetheart, I could tell I was in trouble. I didn’t acknowledge it, but on some level I sensed it. When a man first sees the thing he never realized he wanted, he knows it instantly. He just doesn’t always know how to get it.”
She laughed. “Oh, I think you figured out very quickly how to get it. You just kissed me until I stopped kneeing you in the privates, and after that I was putty in your hands.”
“So that’s the secret, is it?” Reaching over, he hauled her onto his lap. “Now I know how I’ll be spending my afternoon.”
Her eyes gleamed at him. “Meeting with the tenants?”
“Guess again.” He began to unbutton her gown, which very conveniently opened in the front.
“Consulting with the carpenter?”
“Absolutely not.” Kissing each swath of flesh revealed with the release of a button, he started dragging up her skirts with his other hand.
“Seducing your wife?” she teased, then caught her breath as he slipped his hand between her legs to find her already ready for him.
“Exactly. But, if you don’t mind, I believe I shall skip the part where you knee me in the privates.”
And as she burst into laughter, he set about to show her the decided advantages in marrying a rakehell.”
― Sabrina Jeffries, The Truth About Lord Stoneville