Angel? Angels didn't sit on the lap of wicked scoundrels-not unless they were the fallen kind.

No one in life can ever match fiction

He stared past her to the place at the other end of the dining table where Regina would sit as his wife. If she were here. If he hadn’t driven her away. “I’m not sure I know how to love, Louisa.” She took his hand. “Don’t be silly. Loving is easy. It’s finding someone to love you back that’s hard.

I suppose if you were inclined to misbehave, you wouldn't exactly tell me the truth anyway." "Darling, you have a brother fond of holding a gun on me, a sister who can shoot anything that moves, two other brothers who've repeatedly threatened to thrash me, and a grandmother who buys off constables. Do you really think I'm fool enough to antagonize them by committing adultery?" It was hard not to smile at that. "An excellent point." "I think so.

Sometimes the way to a man's heart is through his talleywacker.

No disease is more dangerous than a bad husband, for if a woman catches that Pox, she'll languish from it her entire life.

A teacher had once told them that men were either beasts, gentlemen, or beasts masquerading as gentlemen. Might there be a fourth category — gentlemen masquerading as beasts?