“I think your eyes might be the exact same color as mine," she said wonderingly."What fine gray-eyed babies we shall have," he said, before he thought the better of it.”

“You'll lose your audience and then where will we be? We have future gray-eyed babies to feed, you know.”

“He ground his teeth and slapped some slop down into a pile. The stench was beyond overwhelming. "I thought you said pigs are clean.""Cleaner than people usually think, but not as clean as you and I." She looked at his messy boots, amusement dancing in her gray eyes. "Well, usually.”

“She thumped her weapon (others might call it a cane, but heknew better) against the floor. “Fell off your horse?”“No, I—”“Tripped down the stairs? Dropped a bottle on your foot?” Herexpression grew sly. “Or does it involve a woman?”He fought the urge to cross his arms. She was looking up at himwith a bit of a smirk. She liked poking fun at her companions; she’donce told him that the best part of growing old was that she couldsay anything she wanted with impunity.He leaned down and said with great gravity, “Actually, I wasstabbed by my valet.”It was, perhaps, the only time in his life he’d managed to stunher into silence.Her mouth fell open, her eyes grew wide, and he would haveliked to have thought that she even went pale, but her skin had suchan odd tone to begin with that it was hard to say. Then, after amoment of shock, she let out a bark of laughter and said, “No,really. What happened?”“Exactly as I said. I was stabbed.” He waited a moment, thenadded, “If we weren’t in the middle of a ballroom, I’d show you.”“You don’t say?” Now she was really interested. She leaned in,eyes alight with macabre curiosity. “Is it gruesome?”“It was,” he confirmed.She pressed her lips together, and her eyes narrowed as sheasked, “And where is your valet now?”“At Chatteris House, likely nicking a glass of my best brandy.”She let out another one of her staccato barks of laughter.”

“What happened to your face?" Harriet asked."It was a misunderstanding," Daniel said smoothly, wondering how long it might take for his bruises to heal. He did not think he was particularly vain, but the questions were growing tiresome."A misunderstanding?" Elizabeth echoed. "With an anvil?""Oh, stop," Harriet admonished her. "I think he looks very dashing." "As if he dashed into an anvil.""Pay no attention," Harriet said to him. "She lacks imagination.”

“Darling," he said distractedly,"about the moon...""Yes?""I don't think it matters whether you want it or not.""What are you talking about?" "The moon. I think it's yours."Victoria yawned, not bothering to open her eyes. "Fine. i'm glad to have it.""But--" Robert shook his head. He was growing fanciful. the moon didn't belong to his wife. It didn't follow her, protect her. It certainly didn't wink at anybody.But he stared out the window the rest of the way home, just in case”

“As his hands moved to his trousers, he saw that she was pulling the bedsheets over her. "Don't," he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Her eyes met his, and he said, "I'll be your blanket".”