“Those aren't from my mother's garden, are they? She'll throttle you.""No," he said, making a grand show of looking insulted. "I would never.""Sorry," she said with a cringe."They're from your neighbor's garden, actually.”

“I never smiled much." His voice was a low purr in the shadows. "Don't be silly," she replied, taking a step closer to the next portrait--and farther away from him. "You smile all the time." "At you," he conceded, "with you, because of you.”

“Before Charlotte could utter a syllable, Tristan picked up her gloved hand and kissed her lightly on theknuckles.“Good day, Charlotte,” he said.“Good day,” she answered. She turned to bid farewell to Lady Rosalind, but she seemed to havedisappeared.Numbly, she descended the front steps toward a waiting Rothbury, who only had eyes for the Devines’front door, looking quite like he wanted to murder someone.“Perfection, dear brother,” Rosalind proclaimed, while peeking out the little window next to the door.“Utter perfection.”Slipping a finger inside his cravat to loosen it a bit, Tristan craned his neck from side to side, easing thebuilding tension. “If he kills me, I’ll see to it that you get hanged for murder as well.”

“I mean, I'm happy to see you, but why aren't you home?""Wherever my wife sleeps is my home.”

“By some miracle, Charlotte's polite smile never wavered. It was a proud moment for her. After all, it wasn't every day that a little old lady told you right to your face that your bosom was as flat as a flounder.”

“See. I told you I would get that boy to the alter eventually. All I had to do was pretend I was a loon.”

“What have I done to her?" Gabriel muttered to himself as he crossed the room to crank open a window. Cool air washed over his skin. "What the devil did she do to me?”