“Lord Maccon was built like a brick outhouse, with opinions twice as unmoving and often equally full of crap.”

“Alexia suspected Lord Maccon's handling was a tad more than was strictly called for under the circumstances, but she secretly enjoyed the sensation. After all, how often did a spinster of her shelf life get manhandled by an earl of Lord Maccon's peerage? She had better take advantage of the situation.”

“Lord Maccon, might we have words on the proper tying of a cravat? For my sanity’s sake?Lord Maccon was nonplussed. Professor Lyall, on the other hand, was pained. “I do what I can.” Lord Akeldama looked at him, pity in his eyes. “You are a brave man.”

“No, Lord Maccon was riproaring, tumble down, without a doubt, pickled beyond the gherkin.”

“Similarity of opinion is not always—I think not often—needed for fullness and perfection of love.”

“Well, duh. He was six feet, six inches tall and built like a brick shithouse.”