“You are walking to Hope Springs?” “Yes, Your Grace.” “In this weather?” She glanced around and gave him a smile. “I haven’t any other weather to walk in.”

“One must do the outrageous with style. With élan. With complete conviction.”

“Because, good God, Lily Wellstone had the face of an angel, the body of a goddess, and the spirit of the devil glinting from her eyes. She was a woman worth losing his soul for.”

“She laughed, and the sound pierced his heart.”

“He fell quiet, but she understood this was his way. He was not a talkative man. Once, she’d imagined him sitting alone in his house, a monster ready to devour anyone who came near. What she imagined now was a man who had both his rank and his natural reticence working against him. She smiled at him. If he continued in his gruff ways the rest of his life, she would defend him to anyone. Anyone.”

“Her gaze collided with the duke’s. His eyes were a clear, pale green. Why was he staring so intently when there was hardly another woman less interesting than she?”

“Miss Edith Clay brightened the room with her presence. Just from walking through the door, she’d made the room a happier place. This was true despite his having spent the last several months assuring himself his recollection of her had to be incorrect. His recollection was not incorrect. It was appallingly accurate.”

“She bent her head over the flowers. He knew she was not beautiful. He knew she did not see herself as the object of a man’s lust. He knew if he told her he found her desirable, she’d not understand his meaning. She’d think he meant something other than marriage. In that, she would be right, but a man could want both things from the same woman.”

“Dread that she would meet some other man and see in him all the joy of life that he lacked. “I will see you home.” The words came out all wrong, with gruff emphasis on the word will. One look at her, and he lost all chance at serenity. Because he had never in his life cared whether anyone liked him. He’d never thought about it. Until her.”

“If he spoke, there was no possible outcome but another disastrous exchange of words at cross-purposes. The chances of him finding both the right words and the right inflection were, in his experience with her thus far, vanishingly small. He would either growl at her, or tell her what was in his heart.”

“You are walking to Hope Springs?” “Yes, Your Grace.” “In this weather?” She glanced around and gave him a smile. “I haven’t any other weather to walk in.”