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290 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 3, 2018
"Do not return for dinner. I will explain to Mama that you fell prey to an unfortunate ailment." She sniffed. "In deference to her fondness for you, I won't mention the ailment is your personality."(4 stars—raised to 4.5 upon second reading and 4.25 on third reading)
He nearly laughed. The urge was yet another contradiction—one should not feel amused by insults. But Eugenia Huxley was proving the exception to every rule. (p.72)
His head tilted. "Do you always speak so bluntly?"
"Candor spares us all a good deal of meaningless prattle, wouldn't you agree?" (p.22)
"Well," she said briskly, raising her brow at the man whose eyes pinned her like a silk rose to a straw brim. "I believe we have solved the mystery of your difficulties in the marriage mart, Holstoke. A bit of subtlety might help. Perhaps even a jolt of politeness."
"You were neither subtle nor polite."
"Yes, but when I am blunt, it is bold and charming. When you are blunt, it is offensive and annoying." (p.24)
Suddenly, she could feel what others complained about. Shivers. Breathlessness. She swallowed and licked her lips. "I was a scandal. I do not signify."
"I think you do."(p.26)
He grasped her arm.
"Let go," she said softly.
"I will not," he gritted.
"This is becoming a tiresome habit. Let go, Holstoke."
He pulled her closer. "Tell me why I am wrong."
"We haven't that sort of time. At most, I will live only another seventy years."
[...]
"Your boldness makes mistakes, Eugenia."
"Once in a great while."
"It causes you to speak without thinking."
"Hmmph. That only shows how little you know of me. I rarely speak without thinking. My thinking is simply faster." (p.188)
He gazed upon this woman who rarely hid her thoughts yet frequently surprised him—and wanted her. It was not lust, after all. It was deeper. He wanted to hold her. Before he could think better of it, he reached out to do just that. Took her in his arms. Gathered her close. Sank his hands into her hair. Raised it to his nose and breathed violets and a faint hint of cherries.
“Er, Holstoke?” Her hands patted his back.
He held her harder, his arms fully around her now, pressing her softness against him. Taking comfort in her warmth, in the contact from her hips to her shoulders. (p.207)