There was, currently, far more hairy masculinity in her life than any Englishwoman should really have to put up with on a monthly basis. That said, half the pack was away fighting in northern India; someday there would be even more full-moon maleness. She thought of her husband; him she had to deal with on a daily basis.
Percy has a cat, named Footnote. Or as Virgil put it, Footnote has a human, named Percy.
As a general rule, Lord Maccon appreciated a voluptuous woman. He liked a bit of meat on the female form, more to grab on to – and more to chew off.
Someone was trying to kill Lady Alexia Maccon. It was most inconvenient, as she was in a dreadful hurry.
Just a short visit, enough for a mild dismemberment?
I have always preferred isolation. Less chance of betrayal. Occasionally, as I get older, I wonder if perhaps it might once have been worth the risk.
It takes a great deal of money to acquire a look of not having spent any at all.
She also had a French accent, which hundreds of years of animosity had trained nice young Englishwomen to suspect as evil.
Knives can be quite useful to a lady of quality. Swords are for men; they are too easily caught in the skirts.
The Pistons were partly distracted by this short but excitingly fiery chase, and partly distracted by a new threat in the form of a small but enraged Dimity. Dimity, bless her heart, was reciting one of Mademoiselle Geraldine’s longest lectures on proper behavior at a dance, finger shaking in autocratic fury, Lord Dingleproops notwithstanding.
You know vampires and solicitors – practically indistinguishable.
If left together for too long, the two of them might actually take over the civilized world, through sheer application of snide remarks.
Dewan ex machina.
Algebra was far more interesting when it was a matter of proportioning out mutton chops so as to poison only half of one’s dinner guests and then determining the relative value of purchasing a more expensive, yet more effective, antidote over a home remedy.
I believe I liked it better when she was yelling at me.
You think loyalty can be bought?” “Don’t you?
You will be the death of me. But such a lovely way to go.
Yes?” Percy did not try to tame the grumpiness in his voice. He hated to be disturbed while he was reading. Of course, he was always reading, but that did not signify.
Stupid little boys should learn to use guns and not wave them around.
Miss Tarabotti felt such rules did not entirely apply to her, as she was a spinster. Had been a spinster for as long as she could remember. In her more acerbic moments, she felt she had been born a spinster.