“As Marcus considered various ways to open the subject of Daisy, Swift surprised him with a blunt statement. “My lord, there is something I would like to discuss with you.”Marcus adopted a pleasantly encouraging expression. “Very well.”“It turns out that Miss Bowman and I have reached an…understanding. After considering the logical advantages on both sides, I have made a sensible and pragmatic decision that we should—”“How long have you been in love with her?” Marcus interrupted, inwardly amused.Swift let out a tense sigh. “Years,” he admitted.”

“She let a teasing tone enter her voice. 'Is there any emergency for which you are not prepared, Mr Swift?''Miss Bowman, if I had enough pockets I could save the world.”

“You've always been a know-it-all. Well, you're about to find out how much you don't know.""Believe me," I muttered, "I'm the first one to admit that I have no clue about any of this stuff. I had nothing to do with it. This isn't my baby.""Then give it to Social Services." She was getting agitated. "Whatever happens to him will be your fault, not mine. Get rid of him if you can't handle the responsibility.""I can handle it," I said, my voice quiet. "It's okay, Mom. I'll take care of him. You don't have to worry about anything."She subsided like a child who had just been mollified by a lollipop. "You'll have to learn the way I did," she said after a moment, reaching down to adjust her toe ring.A hint of satisfaction edged her tone as she added, "The hard way.”

“Amelia stopped before him, her skirts crowded between his parted knees. The clean, salty, evergreen scent of him drifted to her nostrils. “I have a proposition for you,” she said, trying for a businesslike tone. “A very sensible one. You see—” She paused to clear her throat. “I’ve been thinking about your problem.” “What problem?” Cam played lightly with the folds of her skirts, watching her face alertly. “Your good-luck curse. I know how to get rid of it. You should marry into a family with very, very bad luck. A family with expensive problems. And then you won’t have to be embarrassed about having so much money, because it will flow out nearly as fast as it comes in." "Very sensible.” Cam took her shaking hand in his, pressed it between his warm palms. And touched his foot to her rapidly tapping one. “Hummingbird,” he whispered, “you don’t have to be nervous with me.” Gathering her courage, Amelia blurted out, “I want your ring. I want never to take it off again. I want to be your romni forever”—she paused with a quick, abashed smile—“whatever that is.” “My bride. My wife.” Amelia froze in a moment of throat-clenching delight as she felt him slide the gold ring onto her finger, easing it to the base. “When we were with Leo, tonight,” she said scratchily, “I knew exactly how he felt about losing Laura. He told me once that I couldn’t understand unless I had loved someone that way. He was right. And tonight, as I watched you with him . . . I knew what I would think at the very last moment of my life.” His thumb smoothed over the tender surface of her knuckle. “Yes, love?” "I would think,” she continued,” ‘Oh, if I could have just one more day with Cam. I would fit a lifetime into those few hours.”

“He slitted his eyes open and squeezed them shut again as he saw her finger intruding deeper into the bottle. "Grows..."he forced himself to continue, "until the fruit is ripe.""They do? That is the cleverest...a pear in its own little...oh no.""What?" Marcus asked through clenched teeth."My finger's stuck."Dumbfounded, he looked down at the sight of Lillian tugging on her imprisoned finger."I can't get it out," she said."Just pull at it.""It hurts. It's throbbing." "Pull harder.""I can't! It's truly stuck. I need something to make it slippery. Do you have some sort of lubricant nearby?""No.""Not anything?""Much as it may surprise you, we've never needed lubricant in the library before now.”

“We are hidiously rich Annabelle-- and I've got three older brothers, all unmarried. Would you consider one of them? If you like, I'll have one shipped across the Atlantic for your inspection." -Lillian Bowman”

“I can't see why you should want to dance with me now, when you never have before." The statement was more revealing than she had intended it to be. She cursed her own wayward tongue, while his speculative gaze wandered over her face."I wanted to," he surprised her by murmuring. "However, there always seemed to be good reasons not to.""Why--""Besides," Westcliff interrupted, reaching out to take her gloved hand, "there was hardly a point in asking when your refusal was a forgone conclusion." Deftly he pressed her hand to his arm and led her toward the mass of couples in the center of the room."It was not a forgone conclusion."Westcliff glanced at her skeptically. "You're saying that you would have accepted me?""I might have.""I doubt it.""I did just now, didn't I?""You had to. It was a debt of honor."She couldn't help but laugh. "For what, my lord?""The calf's head," he reminded her succinctly."Well, if you hadn't served such a nasty object in the first place, I wouldn't have needed to be rescued!""You wouldn't have need to be rescued if you didn't have such a weak stomach.""You're not supposed to mention body parts in front of a lady," she said virtuously. "Your mother said so."Westcliff grinned. "I stand corrected.”