I didn't know how to stop wanting him. It wasn't that I had any hope—I knew I'd never see him again. But that didn't stop me from comparing every other man to Hardy and finding them all lacking. I had exhausted myself loving him.

Evie," Lillian interupted impatiently, "men expect to be deceived in these matters. They're happiest that way. If one were straightforward with them the whole prospect of marriage would be too alarming, and none of them would ever do it.

She was a beautiful woman, if not a happy one, and attracting a man was never a problem. Keeping one, however, was a different matter.

Does he behave in rude or improper ways?" "He's a Bowman. We don't know any better.

I'm scared of making the biggest mistake of my life. I'm just trying to figure out what the mistake is.

I'm not the marrying kind -" St. Vincent snorted. "No man is. Marriage is a female invention.

On Monday they went out for a private picnic. On Tuesday they went for a carriage drive. On Wednesday they went to pick bluebells. On Thursday they fished at the lake, returning with damp clothes and sun-glazed complexions, laughing together at a joke they didn't share with anyone else. On Friday they danced together at an impromptu musical evening, looking so well matched one of the guests remarked it was a pleasure to watch them. On Saturday Matthew woke up wanting to murder someone.