“No, of course not," Belle said, playfully swatting him on the shoulder. "I never, never even once thought I was making a mistake. I was just a bit at odds with myself because my wedding wasn't exactly how I dreamed it was going to be.""I'm sorry," John said softly."No, no, don't be. Just because it wasn't what I thought I wanted doesn't mean it wasn't absolutely perfect. Oh, dear, am I making any sense at all.?"John nodded solemnly."I thought that I needed a church and hundreds of guest and music that actually sounded like music, but I was wrong. What I needed was a drunken priest, irreverent guests, and a companion who learned to play piano from a goat.""Then you got exactly what you needed.""I suppose so. But then again, all I really needed was you."John leaned down to kiss her again, and they remained thus occupied for the next hour.”

“I thought that I needed a church and hundreds of guests and music thatactually sounded like music, but I was wrong.What I needed was a drunken priest, irreverent guests, and a companionwho learned to play piano from a goat." "Then you got exactly what you needed." "I suppose so. But then again, all I really needed was you.”

“Oh, Elizabeth," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her mouth, "I love you so much. You must believe me.""I believe you," she said softly, "because in your eyes, I see what I feel in my heart.”

“We are going to pick up our instruments and play Mozart,”Honoria announced. “And we are going to do it with smiles on ourfaces.”“I have no idea what any of you are talking about,” Daisy said.“I will play,” Sarah said, “but I make no promises about asmile.” She looked at the piano and blinked. “And I am not pickingup my instrument.”Iris actually giggled. Then her eyes lit up. “I could help you.”“Pick it up?”Iris’s grin grew positively devilish. “The window is not far . . .”“I knew I loved you,” Sarah said with a wide smile.”

“I am asking you to marry me because I love you,” he said, “because I cannot imagine living my life without you. I want to see your face in the morning, and then at night, and a hundred times in between. I want to grow old with you, I want to laugh with you, and I want to sigh to my friends about how managing you are, all the while secretly knowing I am the luckiest man in town.”“What?” she demanded.He shrugged. “A man’s got to keep up appearances. I’ll be universally detested if everyone realizes how perfect you are.”

“What can I do for you, Mother?" he asked. "And don't say 'Dance with Hermione Smythe-Smith.' Last time I did that I nearly lost three toes in the process.""I wasn't going to ask anything of the sort," Violet replied. "I was going to ask you to dance with Prudence Featherington.""Have Mercy, Mother," he moaned. "She's even worse.""I'm not asking you to marry the chit," she said. "Just dance with her."Benedict fought a groan. Prudence Featherington, while essentially a nice person, had a brain the size of a pea and a laugh so grating he'd seen grown men flee with their hands over their ears. "I'll tell you what," he wheedled. "I'll dance with Penelope Featherington if you keep Prudence at bay.""That'll do," his mother said with a satisfied nod, leaving Benedict with the sinking sensation that she'd wanted him to dance with Penelope all along."She's over there by the lemonade table," Violet said, "dressed as a leprechaun, poor thing.The color is good for her,but someone really must take her mother in hand next time they venture out to the dressmaker. A more unfortunate costume,I can't imagine.""You obviously haven't seen the mermaid," Benedict murmured.She swatted him lightly on the arm. "No poking fun at the guests.""But they make it so easy.”

“But just for the sake of argument, let's say I am cornered. Or perhaps I am in the middle of a crowded ballroom and do not want to make a scene. If you were flirting with a young lady who had just told you not to call her sweetheart, what would you do?""I would accede to her wishes and bid her good night," he said starchily."You would not!" Henry accused with a playful smile. "You're a terrible rake, Dunford. Belle told me.""Belle talks too much," he muttered.”