“When does he ever think?" Richard straddled a chair and accepted a wind cup from Raoul. "If he were to sell his brain, he could claim it had never been used.", Chapter 7”

“Hell and furies!" Eleanor had begun to pace, her skirts swirling about her ankles. "What was he thinking?""When does he ever think?" Richard straddled a chair and accepted a wine cup from Raoul. "If he were to sell his brain, he could claim it had never been used.”

“He sat on a kitchen chair and lifted her onto his lap so her legs straddled his, and then he slipped his hands under her skirt and cupped her backside to drag her closer. Oh f**k. Good news and bad news.The good news was no underwear.The bad news was no underwear.”

“Love?' he asked himself, giving no sense of recognition for that word in the dictionary of his mind. It was the only battle he had lost in life, the only thing that had been snatched away from him, before he could even claim it.”

“How old was More when Richard succeeded?He was five.When that dramatic council scene had taken place at the Tower, Thomas More had been five years old. He had been only eight when Richard died at Bosworth.Everything in that history had been hearsay.”

“He began to see the situation from another angle. An assignment had been given him. Someone’s life, a small set of lives had been placed in the palm of his hand. Maybe he would never have any more purpose than this: to accept the assignment gracefully, lovingly, and do the best he could with it.”