“Hart pointed at the carriage. "Get in."Eleanor started, and the cake vendor, who'd been watching with evident enjoyment, looked worried. "No need," Eleanor said to Hart. "I'll find a hansom. I've brought Maigdlin an I have so many parcels.""Get into the carriage, El, or I'll strap you to the top of it."Eleanor rolled her eyes and took another bite of seedcake.”

“This was the Hart Eleanor had known years ago, the one she'd agreed without hesitation to marry. He'd had the body of a god, a smile that melted her heart, a sinful glint in his eyes that had been just for her and her alone.”

“...Mac, I want you to go back to the house and make sure the ladies don't get the idea to go searching as well. I told Eleanor not to, but you know the Mackenzie females."Mac scowled."Hell, Hart, can't you find something easier for me to do? Go up against an army of assassins in my underwear, maybe?”

“The smile, the look, tugged at Eleanor's heart. Even in the fleeting glance, she'd seen great love in Ian's eyes, his determination to finish this letter and send it to Beth so she could enjoy decoding it. A way to tell her sweet nothings that no one else could understand. Private thoughts, shared between husband and wife.”

“If this person is a blackmailer, El, I want you to have nothing more to do with it. Blackmailers are dangerous."Her brows rose. "You've had dealings with them before, have you?"Too bloody many times. "Attempting to blackmail the Mackenzie family is a popular pastime," Hart said.”

“You are in no position to make threats to me.”“I don’t have to be. Even if you shoot me, you can be sure you’ll never get away from Hart. He’s a fucking obsessed bastard, and he’s touchy about people harming his sisters-in-law. You will be praying to have me alive once Hart is on your trail.”

“You are very cross tonight, Hart. Perhaps the lady disappointed you."Hart stared at her over the glass he'd started to raise. "What lady?""The one whose perfume you positively reak of."His brows went up."You mean the Countess von Hohenstahlen? She's eighty-two and drenches herself in scents that would make a tart blush."Oh.”