“Yes Simon. He was in control.He was ruining her for all others. And she did not care.”

“I do hope we shall meet again. Perhaps we could have a reading club of some sorts. I 've read that one." She leaned in. "Have you reached the part where Mr. Darcy proposes?"Asriel narrowed his gaze on Cross. "She did that on purpose."Pippa shook her head. "Oh, I did not ruin it. Elizabeth refuses." She paused. "I suppose I did ruin that. Apologies.”

“But she had dreamed of being his for too long. He had quite ruined her for a marriage of convenience. She wanted everything from him: his mind, his body, his name and, most of all, his heart.”

“I . . . hit him . . . elsewhere.”“Where?”“In his . . .In his inguine.”“Oh, dear God.” It was unclear whether Ralston’s words were meant as prayer or blasphemy.What was clear was that the woman was a gladiator.“He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.”“A tart?”“Yes! That’s it!” She registered her brother’s fists and looked to Simon. “I see that it is not a compliment.”“No. It is not.”

“What does Éloa mean?”He narrowed his gaze, answered her literally. “It’s the name of an angel.”Penelope tilted her head, thinking. “I’ve never heard of him.”“You wouldn’t have.”“Was he a fallen angel?”“She was, yes.” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the story, but unable to stop himself. “Lucifer tricked her into falling from heaven.”“Tricked her how?”He met her gaze. “She fell in love with him.”Penelope’s eyes widened. “Did he love her?”Like an addict loves his addiction. “The only way he knew how.”She shook her head. “How could he trick her?”“He never told her his name.”

“But it did not stop her from wishing that it had all been different. Wishing that she had had the chance to be everything daughters of earls were born to be. Wishing that she'd been raised without a care in the world. Without a doubt in her head that it would someday be her day to sparkle; that she would one day be courted properly - by a man who wanted her for her, not as a spoil from a game of chance.Wishing that she were not so very alone.Not that wishing had ever helped.”

“He missed you just as I did. He worried about you just as I worried. He looked for you. Tried to find you. Just as I did. But you were gone.” She took a step toward him. “You think he left you? It was you who left, Michael. You left us.” Her voice was shaking now, all the anger and sadness and fear she had felt in those months, those years after Michael had disappeared. “You left me.” She put her hands to his chest, pushing him with all her might, with all her anger. “And I missed you so much. I missed you so much. I still do, damn you.”