“This isn't food." Bram picked up a lavender-iced cake between thumb and finger and stared at it. "This is...edible ornamentation.”

“We have to get out of here, Bram. Before they take our bollocks and use them for pincushions.”

“A home isn’t only defined by what you need, Bram. It’s also about the people who need you.”

“The Blushing Pansy," his cousin read aloud, in a tone of abject horror. "Tea shop and confectionery."Bram swore. This was going to be ugly.”

“Thorne looked to the woolly beast at his [Bram's] knee and and cocked a brow. "You seem to have acquired a lamb, my lord.""The lamb goes home tomorrow.""And if he doesn't?""He's dinner.”

“I was afraid. Of getting hurt in other ways. To be truthful, I still am."His thumb stroked her cheek. "I would never hurt you.""I don't think you can promise me that." She squeezed his bruised fingers. "But it makes things a bit more equal, to know that I can hurt you, too."His gaze fell to her lips. He said simply, without any trace of irony, "You are killing me.”

“Violet tried the door latch. Locked, of course. Wordlessly, she pulled a hairpin from her wind-mussed chignon and handed it to him. He stared at it. “What makes you think I know how to pick locks?” he whispered. “Just because I’m a spy?” “No. Because you were forever stealing pocket money from your father’s top desk drawer.” Bloody hell. She truly had been paying attention.”