“Shake, Newton.”

“Raw toast," Lucas said grimly, shaking his head. "It goes against the very nature of man.”

“I don't know whether to toss you through that window or shake your hand and say 'Well done'" Henry said in a tired voice.”

“Annabel looked down. Her hands were shaking. She couldn't do this. Not yet. She couldn't face the man she'd kissed who happened to be the heir to the man she didn't want to kiss but whos she probably was going to marry. Oh yes, and she could not forget that if she did marry the man she didn't want to kiss, she was likely to provide him with a new heir, thus cutting off the man she did want to kiss.”

“Shall we return to the dining room?" Anthony queried. "I imagine you're hungry, and if we tarry muchlonger, Colin is sure tohave eaten our host out of house and home."Eloise nodded. "Either that, or they've all killed him by now."Anthony paused to consider that. "It would save me the expense of a wedding.""Anthony!""It's a joke, Eloise," he said, giving his head a weary shake. "Come along, now. Let's make sure your SirPhillip still residesamong the ranks of the living.”

“Eloise,” Penelope said, somewhat breathless from trying to shake offHyacinth.“Penelope.” But Eloise’s voice sounded curious. Which did notsurprise Penelope; Eloise was no fool, and she was well aware that herbrother’s normal modes of behavior did not include beatific smiles in herdirection.“Eloise,” Hyacinth said, for no reason Penelope could deduce.“Hyacinth.”Penelope turned to her husband. “Colin.”He looked amused. “Penelope. Hyacinth.”Hyacinth grinned. “Colin.” And then: “Sir Phillip.”“Ladies.” Sir Phillip, it seemed, favored brevity.“Stop!” Eloise burst out. “What is going on?”“A recitation of our Christian names, apparently,” Hyacinth said.”

“Francesca actually felt her chin drop. “Mother,” she said, shaking her head, “you really should have stopped at seven.”“Children, you mean?” Violet asked, sipping at her tea. “Sometimes I do wonder.”“Mother!” Hyacinth exclaimed.Violet just smiled at her. “Salt?”“It took her eight tries to get it right,” Hyacinth announced, thrusting the salt cellar at her mother with a decided lack of grace.“And does that mean that you, too, hope to have eight children?” Violet inquired sweetly.“God no,” Hyacinth said. With great feeling. And neither she nor Francesca could quite resist a chuckle after that.”