“Your Aunt Hermia will not thank you for attempting to poach her maid. Do not look to me for protection,” he advised. “I have my hands quite full with one March lady. I could not rise to the challenge of taking on another.”

“A tiny smile played over his lips as he glanced down at my hand. "Do you mean to win me over with feminine wiles? I must admit it is a more diverting notion than your usual method of screaming at me like a fishwife."I did not rise to the bait. I simply looked at him. "Please."He caught his breath, a slow smile warming his features. "My god, you are trying to seduce me.""I am not." I said primly. "I am merely trying to get your attention."He bent swiftly and kissed me hard, pulling back so suddenly I nearly toppled over. "I believe I have already made it quite clear you have my attention.”

“It will be full dark soon, and I do not like the look of that sky. The temperature is falling as well," he added, rubbing his hands together briskly. "I think we shall be in for a bit of snow from the look of the cloud just over the Downs." Naturally the gentlemen had to spend another quarter of an hour debating the weather as the ladies stood shivering, Portia rolling her eyes at me behind Father's back. In the end they all agreed that, yes, it was indeed growing colder and darker and we ought to depart at once for the Abbey.”

“I matched my heated tone with one of pure ice. "I believe I did attempt to relate to you the facts of my calls and you interrupted me with a rather magnificent display of temper much as you are doing now. If you do not have all the facts of the case perhaps you have no one but yourself to blame." Brisbane opened his mouth and shut it with a snap. His mouth remained closed but I could hear him muttering under his breath. "What are you saying?" "I am counting. To one hundred. In Cantonese.”

“Are you going to say anything?" Brisbane crossed one leg lazily over the other flicking an imaginary piece of lint from his trousers. "I think he is doing quite well without me." "I did not mean for you to help him I meant for you to defend me," I said huffing slightly in my indignation.”

“He had strong, steady hands, and I could tell from looking at them there was little he couldn't do. Mossy always said you could tell everything you needed to know about a man from his hands. Some hands, she told me, were leaving hands. They were the wandering sort that slipped into places they shouldn't, and they would wander right off again because those hands just couldn't stay still. Some hands were worthless hands, fit only to hold a drink or flick ash from a cigar, and some were punishing hands that hit hard and didn't leave a mark and those were the ones you never stayed to see twice.But the best hands were knowing hands, Mossy told me with a slow smile. Knowing hands were capable; they could soothe a horse or woman. They could take things apart -- including your heart -- and put them back together better than before. Knowing hands were rare, but if you found them, they were worth holding, at least for a little while.”

“After a moment, he turned sharply to me. 'Are you quite all right?''Yes, perfectly. Why do you ask?''Because I have just called you contrary and you did not bother to contradict me. I thought you might be ill.”