“Long live tomorrow's foolish whims.”

“The host in question, the chapel's owner, Grayston Boscastle, the fifth Marquess of Sedgecroft, sat thinking that the bride had the most appealing derriere he had seen in a long time. Not that he made a point of lusting after young women in wedding dresses, but he had been staring at the back of her for over two hours now. A normal man's curiosity could not help but be aroused. What else was he to look at? He wondered whether the rest of her was appealing.”

“A grin broke across Heath's hansome face. "The last time I saw such a collection of Boscastles in church was at Father's funeral. Who invited the mistresses?""I think I did, "Grayson said, suppressing a yawn."God knows I've been sitting here so long my brain's gone stiff.""You invited them to a wedding?""It's not my wedding thank God.""Well, it is your chapel.""Ergo I invite whom I please.""Someone might have thought to invite the groom.”

“Lord Sedgecroft--""Ssh. It isn't polite to interrupt me when I'm kissing you.”

“You look even better than you did before," he added in a quiet voice. "I'm the one returning to the party with his rhubarb at full rise.”

“Is that why the top three buttons of your riding jacket are unfastened?" Miranda asked with an innocent look. "Because you were showing him your bulbs?”

“Do you really think I'm bad?""Of course, Jane. Every woman is, if given the chance.”