“Perhaps I won't marry then. Instead, you and I shall live as spinsters in a cottage by the sea. We'll burn our corsets, eat chocolate morning, noon and night and grow fat as hedgehogs.”

“Are you serious about leaving?"I touched my aching face. "Yes.But I don't know how.""I'd go with you," Colin said quietly."Really?""You know I would.""If you could do anything, what would you do? Would you go back to Ireland?""Maybe," he said. "I've no family left there but I miss the green hills. I'd love to show them to you, show you Tara and the Cliffs of Moher.We could live in a thatched cottage and keep sheep."I grinned at him. "If you clean up after them.""What would be your perfect day then?" he asked, grinning back at me. "If you don't like my sheep?""Your cottage sounds nice," I allowed. "I'd like to sleep in late and read as many books as I'd like and drink tea with lemon and eat pineapple slices for breakfast.""No velvet dresses and diamonds?"I rolled my eyes, then stopped when the bruises throbbed. "Ouch.And no, of course not.I don't care about that. Only books." I looked at him shyly. "And you.""That's all right then," he said softly.”

“I can't breathe. I'm joing the Rational Dress Society the very moment we are back in London,and I fully intend to leave their pamphlets under Mother's pillow and tucked into her corsets.”

“And in her underthings, no less!" Murder was less scandalous than my corset and pantalettes. She sniffed. "Like mother, like daughter.”

“...and Lucy." She looked like she might cry.'What about her?'"Lucy smells like food." She nearly gagged saying it.'Sol, all that's normal. Lucy smelled good before I turned, and now she smells even better. But I haven't tried to eat her face and neither will you.'"She's not safe in this house."'Safer than out there,' I argued, even though I agreed with her. 'Look, you used to eat hamburgers.'She blinked, confused. "So?"'So, did you ever walk through one of the farms at a field party and suddenly try to eat a cow?'"Um, no." Her chuckle was watery but it was better than nothing. "And, ew."'Exactly. You can crave blood and not eat your best friend.”

“Exactly. These guys just want me to play Snow White singing in her little cottage while they do all the work.'Lucy snorted. 'Snow White and the Seven Buttheads. You could give Disney a run for their money.'Nicholas poked her in the ribs. 'I am not a singing dwarf!''No, you're a butthead. Weren't you paying attention?”

“Dearest Reece,I know you think it improper, or at the very least imprudent, for us to write to one another, but I don't care.There are too many rules as it is and they would choke me if I let them. Between corsets and lessons and curtsies and etiquette, I am hardly myself, and that is how they want it. They would prefer we all dress and talk and think (or not think) alike, like paper dolls.I do not wish to be a paper doll.Surely you can see that I am stronger than that.I don't give a fig for the scandalbroth or the gossipmongers. Let us remove to Paris, where no one knows us to care and where they dine on scandal with eclairs every morning.You will say again that it is impossible but I refuse to believe it. I know with every touch of your hand on mine, with every stolen kiss, that nothing is impossible.Perhaps love isn't meant to be simple. Perhaps this is merely a test, such as Psyche went through to prove herself to Cupid. Would you have me count lentils, beloved?And as you claim I have the most to lose, I pray you will let me decide for myself what it is I want and need.Which is you.Not silks or lobster soup in crystal bowls or diamonds around my neck.Just you.You say again and again that you love me.Prove it.”