“I’ve won his heart, but it’s like owning a house in which most of the doors are permanently locked. He wants to shield me from all unpleasantness. And it’s not really marriage—not like the marriage you have with Cam—until he’s willing to share the worst of himself as well as the best of himself.”

“No marriage stays in the same pattern forever. It is both the best feature of marriage and the worst, that it inevitably changes.”

“The London season is like one of those Drury Lane melodramas in which marriage is always the ending. And no one ever seems to give any thought as to what happens after. But marriage isn’t the end of the story it’s the beginning. And it demands the efforts of both partners to make a success of it.”

“When Christopher finished, there was a moment of silence.Leo looked at Cam expectantly. “Well?”“Well what?”“Now is the time when you dredge up one of your blasted Romany sayings. Something about roosters laying eggs, or pigs dancing in the orchard. It’s what you always do. Let’s have it.”Cam gave him a sardonic glance. “I can’t think of one right now.”“By God, I’ve had to listen to hundreds of them. And Phelan doesn’t have to hear even one?”

“It’s like trying to describe a color you’ve never seen before. Words can’t make you understand what real love is like. But until you’ve felt it … you haven’t really lived.”

“Westcliff thinks that St. Vincent is in love with you.”Evie choked a little and didn’t dare look up from her tea. “Wh-why does he think that?”“He’s known St. Vincent from childhood, and can read him fairly well. And Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent’s heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to…hmm, how did he put it?…I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something like… you would appeal to St. Vincent’s deepest, most secret fantasy.” Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. “I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible.”A grin crossed Lillian’s lips. “Dear, that is not St. Vincent’s fantasy, it’s his reality. And you’re probably the first sweet, decent girl he’s ever had anything to do with.”

“It’s a mistake, you know. You have no idea of what you’ll be exposed to…the obscenities and lewd comments, the lecherous gazes, the groping and pinching…and that’s just at my house. Imagine what it would be like here.”