Grace Burrowes Quotes

In Nita's experience, the best intelligence officers in any big family were found among the younger siblings. They began their careers while small, nonthreatening, and unobtrusive. By adolescence, they developed formidable powers of observation and recollection, to say nothing of an ability to lurk at keyholes and befriend the servants.

I don't believe we are in any danger, but

And who have we here?" Nick turned to Ellen and flashed her a charming smile. Val performed the introductions. "Ellen, may I make known to you Nick Haddonfield, the biggest scamp in the realm, and since his marriage, the happiest. Nick, Ellen Markham, Baroness Roxbury, my neighbor and friend." "Baroness." Nick executed a very proper bow but kissed Ellen's hand - a shocking presumption - rather than merely bowing over it. "Ignore him," Axel warned. "Any attempt to chide, flirt, or comment only encourages him, and this is after he has found a woman willing to marry him." "And bear my children," Nick added, eyes twinkling. Talk

Somehow, I cannot see anyone describing me as gracious, loving, and happy." He frowned at his sandwich as if in puzzlement. "You are loving," Anna replied staunchly, though she hadn't exactly planned for those words to leave her mouth. "Now that is beyond surprising." The earl eyed her in the deepening shadows. "How do you conclude such a thing, Mrs. Seaton?" "You have endless patience with your family, my lord," she began. "You escort your sisters everywhere; you dance attendance on them and their hordes of friends at every proper function; you harry and hound the duke so his wild starts are not the ruination of his duchy. You force yourself to tend to mountains of business which you do not enjoy, so your family may be safe and secure all their days." "That is business," the earl said, looking nonplussed that his first sandwich had disappeared, until Anna handed him a second.

How lovely, to meet a man who helped rather than fussed and scolded.

You have a certain lot in life, my lord. Some of it you chose, some you did not, and much of it you did not realize you were choosing. Still, it is your lot in life, and you must make the best of it.

Sophie was not a woman to romp with. She was a woman a man could spend years learning to cherish. "You

Oh, for God's sake." Westhaven sounded most displeased. "Evie just switched her glass of wassail for Deene's, and the idiot man didn't even notice." Maggie's brows knit. "Why does that matter?" "Because," St. Just said as Westhaven moved off, "Deene's is spiked with a dose of the loveliest white rum ever to knock a grown man on his arse." Maggie took a little sip of her drink. "So's mine." Val reached over and plucked her glass from her hand. "Then you'd better share, sister dear, or I'm going to go fetch Sindal here myself." ***

Wee, wee, wee, wee, all the way home," Hazlit quoted the nursery rhyme. Portmaine paused before sipping his own drink. "Did Maggie Windham strike you on the head?" "No. She hired me, and it took me half my walk home to figure out what she's truly about." "She wants to have her way with your tender young flesh," Portmaine suggested. "You're overdue to get your wick dipped, you know." "Your concern is touching, Archer." "You always get short-tempered when you've neglected your romping. Maybe you should go a round or two with Lady Norcross." "Maybe I should find a partner who can think beyond his next swiving." "I like swiving." Portmaine pushed off the desk and refilled his drink, then came to rest on the sofa a couple of feet from Hazlit. "It's normal to like swiving. Lady Norcross apparently understands this. You used to understand this. I certainly understand it. More brandy?" "You're outpacing me," Hazlit said, smiling slightly at Portmaine's predictable simplicity. "And

I have been a widower for nigh fifty years, but I am never alone. We had eight good years together, and they've lasted me the entire eighty. It's like that, you see, when you can marry where your heart lies.

It was a struggle to not fall in love with a man who was determined to be decent to her when what she sought was indulgence of her wanton nature.
Her recently discovered, very frustrated wanton nature, damn him.

So she learned at the age of almost twenty-six how to kiss a lover. Such kisses involved tongues, lips, taste, feel, and soft, needy noises that had her pressing up into his body and wanting to consume him with her hands and her mouth.

You'd call this fellow out, whoever he is?"
"In a bloody heartbeat. When this silly house party is over, we're going into Town and buying my duchess a handsome little pistol to carry in her reticule, and we're showing her how to use it. Then we'll explain bullwhips to her, and get her an archery set as well."
Harlan took the terrace steps two at a time. "Noah, what are you going on about?"
"Marital bliss, Harlan, wooing my duchess, and the kind of family we are now.

I want the good times and the difficult, the challenges and the triumphs. I have no plan for the rest of my life other than to love you, to be loved by you, and to face life together, come what may.

Trenton," Nick said patiently, "it is simple: your pizzle, her quim, you both enjoy each other until you can't move. Nothing simpler. You have three children, for pity's sake, need I draw you diagrams?

He looked so strong and fit and competent, but he'd been, again, deceptive. He was a wounded barbarian. A kind, shrewd, handsome, wounded barbarian. The

She was tall for a female, but the top of her head would still fit nicely under his chin were she to turn around and wrap her arms around his waist. "It

You were coshed with a fireplace poker," Mrs. Seaton said, bending over him to sift through the hair above his nape. "These wounds will require careful cleaning." She wadded up his shirt and folded it to hold against the scalp wound. "Passive voice," the earl said through clenched teeth, "will not protect you, Mrs. Seaton, since you did the coshing. Jesus and the apostles, that hurts." Her hand came up to hold his forehead even as she continued to press the linen of his ruined shirt against the bleeding wound. "The bleeding is slowing down," she said, "and the wounds on your back are not as messy." "Happily for me," her patient muttered.

Sussex, hailed back to Oxfordshire by Rutland's

You can have the rest of your life with her," St. Just said gently. "What if she won't have me?" Emmie asked softly. "What if she can't understand? She's six years old, St. Just. I've let her think she's had no mother for half her years on earth, and I was ready to turn my back on her completely." His fingers closed over hers, and this time he didn't simply pat her hand and let go. "You were trying to do the best you could in difficult circumstances. You wanted what was best for Winnie, and she will eventually understand that. It will work out. I know it will." "I can only hope so, and I can only continue to try my best." "Winnie

His expression was bleak, but then, Sir Joseph's expression was usually bleak. He was not a classically handsome man - his features were saturnine, his brows a trifle heavy, his nose not quite straight, though bold and a bit hooked. He yet managed to be attractive to Louisa for she had seen him smile. Just the once, he'd smiled at his small daughters one day in the church yard, but Louisa had never forgotten the sight. His smile, full of warmth, humor, and affection, made him very attractive indeed. "Will

He'll get drowsy soon." Mr. Charpentier shifted back onto his heels. "That's the best part, when they're all sweet and snuggly. Little buggers wrap us around their fingers without even trying." "You

Is this all you want, Anna?" He brought his arms around her and urged her to lean into him. "Merely an embrace? I'll understand it, if you do."
"It isn't merely an embrace," she replied, loving the feel of his lean muscles and long bones against her body. "It is your embrace, and your scent, and the cadence of your breathing, and the warmth of your hands. To me, there is nothing mere about it.

I love you, he thought, because you are honest with me and because you are willing to speak the truth to me when others might seek to curry favor instead. I love you because you are in this bed with me, not trying to conceive the much-awaited next generation of Windhams, but just holding my hand.
Gayle Windham

Tell me now, Anna, he silently pleaded as she ran her finger over a rose petal. Tell me I could have a son, that we could have a son, a daughter, a baby, a future - anything.

Thank you. Thank you, Noah, thank you, thank you.
By sundown, Thea could throw the damned thing with deadly accuracy. At bedtime, she asked if Noah would mind if she slept with it under her pillow every night.
He assured her he would not.
* when Thea gets a knife from Noah

He should have told her that whatever her station in life - cook, housekeeper, companion, governess, whatever, it mattered naught to him so long as she exchanged it for the position of his baroness. And

Though I can't like this idea of yours, Val, simply confronting the man, no magistrate about, no one but Wee Nick on hand to enforce the king's peace." "Wee Nick," said the man himself, "outranks the pusillanimous buffoon, has double his weight, double his reach, and at least five times his brain power. And should my charming presence fail to inspire him to good conduct, you will be waiting in the wings, ready to rescue us." "Rescue

He was more tired than he had a right to be, considering he'd done little more than tool along in the gig, stroll around the property, and talk with Anna. But he was exhausted, and he'd taken some sort of chill in the rain, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, he wasn't going to waste an opportunity to torment his intended duchess, so he stripped out of his shirt, his breeches, stockings, and smalls, and took the bucket to the hearth, the better to illuminate him for Anna's peeping eyes. Truth

You really are looking a trifle fatigued, my dear," Benjamin observed while they ambled away from the house. "Are these prewedding jitters? If it would help, I can come sing you lullabies." And

Mercia wasn't a little-in-love sort of man. He was mad, dark passion, sweeping emotion, and complete loss of reason, with his gaunt male beauty, his wealth and power, and his haunted past.

Ye gods and little fishes.

The man was a Black Irish terror, no matter he paid well and worked harder than any title Holderman had run across. Devlin St. Just, newly created first Earl of Rosecroft, was a flat, screaming terror. Gossip, even in York, was that the French had run for the hills when St. Just had led the charge. "Well,

On the way back to the house, he began to plan the seduction of his future wife, pausing to pluck her a single rose just as the sky opened up with a renewed downpour. They

Might as well rest the horses," St. Just said, nudging his beast out of the middle of the beaten path. "Westhaven, can you dismount?" "I cannot. My backside is permanently frozen to the saddle; my ability to reproduce is seriously jeopardized." "Anna will be desolated." St. Just waited while Westhaven swung down, then whistled at an urchin shivering in the door to a nearby church. "We'll

Not a mindless relinquishing of physical dignity in exchange for favors or pleasure, but an intentional vulnerability far more dangerous and lasting.

Correct me if I'm wrong, Valentine," St. Just said, "but wasn't it you who was cursing and stomping about here last night because I suggested we wait one day to see what the weather was going to do?" "I wasn't cursing. Ellen frowns on it, and one needs to get out of the habit if one is going to have children underfoot." "Doesn't exactly work that way," Westhaven muttered. "I'm willing to tarry a day if you're asking us to, Val. Devlin?" "The horses can use the rest." Val looked momentarily nonplussed at having won his battle without firing a shot then dropped down onto a sofa. "So, Westhaven, are you saying children don't inspire a man to stop cursing?" "They most assuredly do not," Westhaven said, rising. "His Grace and I are agreed on this, which is frightening of and by itself. Let me order some toddies, and we can discuss exactly how the arrival of children changes an otherwise happily married man's vocabulary.

She smiled at him, and Val felt his heart trip on the next few beats. Good God, she was lovely. Just sitting here outside the Rooster, cradling her mug in her hands. A little dusty, a little tired, but in her warm, earthy dark-eyed way, she was beautiful.

You will catch your death, Wife." Joseph opened his cape and enveloped her in its folds, which - happily for her - necessitated that he hug her to his chest. "I will be back as soon as possible." "We have much to do in your absence." "I've never seen this house so thoroughly decorated for the holidays. I can't believe there's another thing to be done." Louisa felt his chin come to rest on her temple. "We have a great deal of baking to do if we're to send baskets to the tenants and neighbors. I must write to the agencies to find us another governess, and you've set me the task of finding a charity worthy of your coin. Then too, I am behind on my correspondence, and if all else fails, I have your library to explore. I will stay busy." "While I will freeze my backside off, haring about the realm without you.

I've been foolish." (Hester)
"I hope you at least had a grand time being foolish." (Ariadne)

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You've never called the baby by name before." This earned her a twitch of his lips, maybe impatience, maybe humor. "We're drinking companions now. He vows I'm his favorite uncle.

Papa said damn." Fleur slapped her hand over her mouth as if to hold back her giggles. "Damn is a bad word. We're not supposed to say damn, or damn it, or God damn it to hell, or - " "Cease." Joseph wrapped an arm around her to put his much-larger hand over her mouth. He was outnumbered, though, and Amanda started up immediately. "Or bloody damn or damn and blast. If we were boys, you'd teach us how to swear and even belch, and we'd know how to far - " He ended up with two little girls wiggling off his lap, their giggles cascading behind them as they scampered a few feet away. "Enough, the both of you.

You like this darkness. You like learning me by feel." Feeling very bold indeed, she nuzzled at him until she found his mouth with her own. "I like it too.

Kiss me, Rothgreb." He smiled down at her, a trace of his old devilment in his blue eyes. "Naughty girl." But he bussed her cheek and patted her hand. "My lovely, naughty girl." "Vim

Proper mourning leaves one nothing to do but mourn, and I've concluded this isn't a good thing. Grief crowds in closely enough without the rest of life being shoved aside to make way for it.

Marry the widow, little brother. She makes you smile." Val

I am so excited that I won The Traitor. I love Grace Burrowes books, and I do mean all of them. Thanks so much.

You would like a large family, Louisa? You want lots of babies of me? They'll grow up, you know, and turn into shrieking, banister-sliding, pony-grubbing little people, all of whom must have shoes and books and puppies. They'll eat like a regiment and have no thought for their clothes - which they'll grow out of before the maids can turn the first hem. They'll skin their knees, break their collarbones, and lose their dolls. Do you know what a trauma ensues when a six-year-old female loses her doll? I have a spare version of Missus Whatever-Hampton Her Damned Name Is, but Amanda found her and said a spare would never do, because the perishing thing didn't smell right - you find this amusing?" "I find you endearing." His brows came down. "I will never understand the female mind." "I

Louisa Carrington, come here." Her head came up at the imperious note in his voice. "Allow me to rephrase that: Dearest Wife, would you let me hold you?" He held out his arms, willing her to accept his embrace. Her first steps were tentative, but he held her gaze and waited until she was bundled against his chest. "I want to shout at you, Joseph. I am very like my father in this." "Go ahead and shout. I think better when I'm holding you. Perhaps you think better when you shout." She

This was wrong, dangerous, stupid ... and necessary to the survival off her soul.

She's a veritable siren, if you don't mind a grumpy woman who enjoys wielding a knife with alarming skill.

What story will you tell me?" "What kind of story would you like?" "An exciting story. One with an exotic climate and mortal peril." He had to smile at the relish in her voice. "Do we have bloodthirsty warring factions in this story?" "No war, please." She'd lost a brother to the Corsican's armies. He'd forgotten that, though she never would. "You want a happy ending, then?" She studied her teacup for a thoughtful moment. "I don't admit to my family that I still want the happy endings and wishes to come true. A mature woman should just take life as it comes, and I do have a great deal to be grateful for." "But a mature woman should also be honest with herself, and with me. You're allowed to wish for the happy endings, Sophie. For yourself and for Kit too." When

You want me." She tried to keep the wonder out of her voice. Two minutes ago, she'd been asleep in his arms, and yet his body was ready to join with hers. "Always." He

The sound of her voice was so pretty, it almost disguised the ugliness of her words.

I don't suppose you told the woman you're arse over teakettle in love with her?"
"I did. [ ... ] I went about it all wrong."
"There's a wrong way to tell a woman you love her?"
"Nearly shouting it at her when she's angry and frightened and looking for excuses to throw your ring at you might qualify.

I vote you read and we fellows will listen in rapt silence." "And thus Kit is indoctrinated into the conspiracy to which all males belong," Sophie muttered. "And you ladies don't have conspiracies of your own?" He brought the child to his shoulder and started rubbing Kit's little back. The sight sent odd tendrils of warmth drifting through Sophie's insides. "We women are cooperative by nature; that's different from conspiratorial." She

What exactly do you want to know that you weren't able to get out of Val?" "Where did you find her? I am in the market for same." "I lured her to my employ with my endless buckets of charm," Westhaven said dryly. "You are charming," Dev said when they were trotting along. "You just can't afford to be flirtatious, as well." Westhaven

She glanced at him, her expression curious. "When did you decide to call me Maggie?"
The last time I kissed you. "When did you decide to allow me to?

I live to bring you pleasure. To Gilly, his words rang like a vow.

The earl smiled at her, a buccaneer's smile if ever she saw one.

They got the horses moving at a faster shuffle, but it occurred to Vim as they trudged and struggled and cursed their way toward Sidling, that Sophie's brothers - passing him the baby, making inane small talk with him, and even in their silences - had been offering him some sort of encouragement. Would that her ladyship might do the same. Inside

Why do I have the compulsion to caution you strenuously against going up those stairs, Windham? Perhaps you'll be swarmed by bats or set upon by little ghoulies with crossbows." "Oh, for God's sake, what could be hiding in an empty old carriage house?" ***

Don't look at me like that, Augusta." He stood to pull his shirt over his head. "I don't deserve it. No mortal could deserve such an expression.

You are such a cheering influence, Michael. Take yourself off to bed, there to dream of the end of the world or whatever gives a nice Catholic boy comfort on a long and cold night.

He loomed over her, his eyes dark, his expression implacable. "You are wearing my ring, Maggie Windham." "I am wearing your ring because you were hen-witted enough to sneak it onto my night table when I was too overset to notice, and I did not want to lose it, and leaving expensive jewelry around where any maid might misplace - " But now the handsome wretch was smiling down at her. "Hen-witted, Maggie? I kiss your cheek in parting, slip a ring onto your night table, and you say I'm the one who's rendered hen-witted?" "It's one of Her Grace's words. When she uses it on the boys, they positively reel with abused dignity." "Reel into bed, Maggie, and expect me to call on you quite early tomorrow." It

Ellen?" Val knelt to peer up at her where she sat. "Shall I leave?" He put a hand on her knee then slid it up to her hip, holding her gaze as he did. She laid her fingers over the back of his debilitated left hand. They'd been heading for this moment for weeks, but now that it was upon her, she looked not just surprised but stunned. "I'll leave," Val said, settling back onto his heels and resting his cheek against her thigh. "If you ask it of me, I'll get up and see about your locks, share a cup of cider and an apple tart, ask you your plans for the week, and understand." "Understand?" He brought his other hand around her waist and held on, knee-walking in close to hug her middle on a sigh. "Now

How are your womenfolk?" Val asked, feeling a tug at his heartstrings at just the thought of Emmie St. Just so near her confinement. "Em thinks she's big as a house. The heat isn't so bad up north, and that's a blessing, as she sleeps poorly. This makes me fret, which makes me sleep poorly, and so forth. Winnie is watching closely but doing as well as can be expected. She said to tell you she practices the piano a lot, and while I cannot vouch for the quality of her practicing, I can vouch unequivocally for its volume." "Stand,

Has Westhaven taken to gossiping?"
"He has not, but like most men, you assume the only communications of significance pass between the males of the species.

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I will serenade you from the street, Maggie Windham. I will be so callow, you will marry me to save me from embarrassment.