She'd met Colin on a Monday. She'd kissed him on a Friday. Twelve years later. She sighed. It seemed fairly pathetic.

She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.

There were rules among friends, commandments, really, and the most important one was Thou Shalt Not Lust After Thy Friend's Sister.

Watch over Honoria, will you? See that she doesn’t marry an idiot.

If you want to know if a gentleman loves you,” her mother said, “there is only one true way to be sure.” “It’s in his kiss,” her mother whispered. “It’s all there, in his kiss.

Have you seen Frances?” He tilted his head to the right. “I believe she’s off rooting about in the bushes.” Anne followed his gaze uneasily. “Rooting?” “She told me she was practicing for the next play.” Anne blinked at him, not following. “For when she gets to be a unicorn.” “Oh, of course.” She chuckled. “She is rather tenacious, that one.

Nonetheless, I can't help but be flattered that you noticed the latest addition to my collection," he said. She rolled her eyes. "Because personal injuries are such a dignified thing to collect." "Are all governesses so sarcastic?