“Reg: Speaking of blunt, dinner is on my bill tonight, mes amis.Alex: What's the occasion?Augustus: Lady Caroline's agreed to venture out on a picnic with out intrepid hero. Kit: I don't know why you keep insisting she's smitten with me. I've barely spoken five sentences to her.Augustus: It's very simple. Reg has thrown his entire being into pleasing Caroline. She knows every nuance of his thought and character. You, however, are a mystery to be explored, solved, and resolved.”

“Reg: Furth's in London. And yes, I know, it's my fault. But as long as I'ver roused the lion, I was going to ask you to speak to him on my behalf.Alex: You wish me to speak to Furth.Reg: Well, yes. He's always like you. Just tell him what a noble, upright fellow I am, and how I have always upheld my position with dignity and respect.Alex: Lie, you mean.REg: Whatever it takes.”

“Shaw grinned again, wishing mightily that he and she were alone by the fire. “I never claimed to be much of a gentleman. But whether you tote about a parasol or not, you are every inch a lady. Quite possibly the finest I’ve ever met.”“Goodness. If you continue saying such things, I’ll begin to think you’re smitten with me.” “I’d describe it more as being clubbed into submission,” he murmured, aware both that her palm had come to rest just over his heart, and that his men and the Mayfair mob across the fire pit could see it. “But yes, I am rather smitten with you.”

“Never interrupt a lady when she is speaking to you, as if what you have to say is more important.”

“...He had no breath, no being, but in hers, she was his voice; he did not speak to her. But trembled on her words; She was his sight, For his eye followed hers, and saw hers, Which colored all his objects-he had crease to live within himself; She was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts...”

“Yes, it is.” Bennett blew out his breath. “You can’t expect me to…sit in the morning room and chatabout the weather with her mother, and hold her yarn while she knits, and…wait five weeks before Iattempt to hold her hand.”

“For a long moment the butler sat in silence, his jaw hanging open. “I . . . my lord, I simply don't feel qualified to advise you about such matters.”“Don't tell me that,” Saint protested. “Tell me whether you can imagine me as a married man or not.”To his surprise, the butler set aside his brandy snifter and sat forward. “My lord, I do not wish to overstep my bounds, but I have noticed a change in your demeanor of late. The question of whether anyone can imagine you married or not, however, is one I believe must be answered by you. And the lady, of course.”Saint frowned. “Coward.”“There is that, as well.”