“Would you say that you're a good man, Harry?"He had to think about that. "No," he finally said. "In the fairy tale you mentioned last night, I would probably be the villain. But it's possible the villain would probably treat you far better than the prince would have.”

“In the fairy tale you mentioned last night, I would probably be the villain. But it's possible the villain would treat you far better than the prince would have.”

“You're unbelievable," he said in a low voice, and it wasn't a compliment. "It amazes me that there was ever a time I thought you needed toughening up.""Would you prefer someone more...helpless?"Even Lucy had to admit that she had pushed him too far.”

“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.”

“I'm not good enough for you. But no one is. And most men, good or bad, have limits to what they would do, even for someone they love. I have none. No God, no moral code, no faith in anything. Except you. You're my religion. I would do anything you asked. I would fight, steal, kill for you." -Kev to Win”

“You’re mad,” he said in a low voice, “if you think I would leave you now. I’ll see you safe and well no matter what it takes.”

“I am illegitimate," she said distinctly, as if he were a foreigner trying to learn English. "You are a viscount. You can't marry a bastard.""What about the Duke of Clarence? He had ten bastard children by that actress...what was her name...""Mrs. Jordan.""Yes, that one, Their children were all illegitimate, but some of them married peers.""You're not the Duke of Clarence.""That's right. I'm not a blueblood any more than you are. I inherited the title purely by happenstance""That doesn't matter. If your married me, it would be scandalous and inappropriate, and doors would be closed to you.""Good God, woman, I let two of my sisters marry Gypsies. Those doors have already been closed, bolted, and nailed shut.”