“Lyall had spent centuries nibbling about the great layered cake that was polite society while Lord Akeldama acted the part of the frosting on its top.”

“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.”

“Society is like a stew. If you don't stir it up every once in a while then a layer of scum floats to the top.”

“...Great-Uncle Powell, an archaeologist, had spent most of his time digging about in foreign parts.”

“He's an enigma wrapped up in sensuality padlocked with a dozen chains of desire and topped off with a razor-sharp ribbon of danger. There are more layers to him than a billionaire's wedding cake.”

“The trouble with Clare was, not only that she wanted to have her cake and eat it too, but that she wanted to nibble at the cakes of other folk as well.”