Out with it.” She let impatience colour her words. She couldn’t think of any cockney slang for getting a man to open his saucebox.
Chasing ghosts while pursued by daemons...
Everyone’s secrets are coming to light tonight, thought Sophronia, wondering how she had missed this little facet of inter-teacher dynamics.
A girl’s boudoir was sacred!
Sensing a favourable shift, Prim called for celebratory muffins and jam. Muffins and jam seemed to sooth everyone’s temper, particularly the Alpha Vanara’s whose delight in the jam was that of a child discovering blancmange for the first time. Rue could sympathise. She often felt that way about really good jam, not to mention blancmange. And this was, after all, gooseberry.
To be stupid was one thing; to be stupid and evil yielded up untidy consequences.
Ivy was particularly adept at being ignorant but could cause extensive havoc with the smallest scrap of information.
My eyelash fluttering is subpar.
Felicity and Evylin were both quite beautiful: pale insipid blondes with wide blue eyes and small rosebud mouths. Sadly, like their dear mama, they were not much more substantive than “quite beautiful.
For the first time in her life, Primrose forgot entirely about her tea.
As a concerned friend, I really ought to check on her emotional state.” “How ghastly for her,” said Alexia, driven beyond endurance into comment. “People actually thinking, with their brains, and right next door. Oh, the travesty of it all.
The more Lord Maccon considered it, the more he grew to like the idea. Certainly his imagination was full of pictures of what he and Alexia might do together once he got her home in a properly wedded state, but now those lusty images were mixing with others: waking up next to her, seeing her across the dining table, discussing science and politics, having her advice on points of pack controversy and BUR difficulties.
The formidable Lord and Lady Maccon were both prone to yelling loudly and bashing the noggins of those whose opinions did not mesh with theirs.
It didn’t feel sporting to shoot at a crazy person, even if that person was a vampire who’d agreed to the job.
For you, it’s gossip. For me, it’s action.
Rue carried her mother’s parasol, which was too ugly to match any of her outfits, but was more sturdy than any of her fashionable ones. This one, felt Rue, could really cause damage to a noggin if applied with enough enthusiasm. Somehow this made her feel more secure about life in general.
She ought to remember to stay on her guard, for it was when an illegal activity became easy that one was most at risk of exposure.
Falling out of the sky was one thing, but doing so for unknown reasons was quite unacceptable. Having.
Pretty as a pineapple,” pronounced.
I must say, like most daughters, I resent being accused of emulating my mother.