Tarun Shanker Quotes

Unfair," I said as Captain Goode opened a door to reveal a beautiful library. The room seemed to stretch on forever. Bookshelves lined all the walls. Hundreds, thousands of volumes. The air carried that wonderfully comfortable and musty scent of dust, age, and wisdom that only worn books can emit.

My breath returned as I observed my escort. He was wearing the same black coat and trousers from the evening of Sir Winston's ball. No strange clothes, altered features, or even a false mustache. He cared not one whit about his reputation. "Fine disguise," I said.

Miss Wyndham feigned an illness, sneaked out of the house, and walked the London streets unaccompanied for most of the night. At the very least, I'd say she's a better influence on Miss Kent than Lady Kent is.

Perhaps he anticipated our anticipation of his anticipation . . .

He's a boy," the merchant replied bluntly. He held out his hand to denote height. "Like a man, but smaller.

Yes, I know that. And you shall always have my friendship as well. But I do not wish to press anyone into loving me. The person who loves me will see me for who I am, good and bad, and say, Yes, that's the handsome gentleman I have been hoping to meet all along, that handsome, charming, witty, disarming, genius, remarkable, dashing - "
"Mr. Kent."
"See? That is not going to be you, Ev - Miss Wyndham. Which is why I will leave you to the most ridiculous man in London - who is made much less ridiculous by you. Indeed, I might even say he is tolerable.

It was a strange feeling, to want to throw something at him and protect him from dangerous flying objects at the same time.

While overseeing tonight's dinner party, I finally found myself in the presence of Mr. Edwards's famed wit when he asked me whether I had visited the zoo to see the puffins. Somehow Miss Wyndham was the one forced to leave the house.

Evelyn, please, you have no idea how much I regret that day."
"I think I have some idea."
"I have thought every day about you - your loss. And every day, I only saw how I would make things worse if I were here."
"And I only thought of ways you would have made it better.

Why, Miss Wyndham," Mr. Kent replied, looking as chaste and good as a debutante at her presentation to the Queen. "I think we can all agree it's fair to punish these guilty people feigning innocence every day of their lives, all while helping a wrongfully accused innocent. I would certainly never ask you, but I suspect you agree."

"You cannot simply blackmail people into liking me!

My, my, it's a surprise to see Mr. Braddock here," Mr. Kent said, a hint of acrimony lacing his voice. "Yes, it is." He leaned in confidentially. "Perhaps he's come to apologize. Or maybe that also needs to be done in his bedroom."

I strained to keep a whisper. "You know very well why I was in his bedroom! He was injured, and I needed to check on him."

"No one is going to make an exception for that where your reputation is concerned."

"I had other concerns at the time."

He put his hand on his chest. "I'm feeling quite injured myself. Perhaps we might - "

"Mr. Kent! This is not an appropriate place for that kind of talk!"

"Very well," he said. "If you wish to speak about it somewhere much more inappropriate, just say the word.

I am so glad you decided on the cream silk for the evening, Miss Wyndham," she said.
"Thank you, Lady Atherton." It was an absolutely beautiful gown, a pearly cream that glowed whenever light hit it.
"Such a talented modiste, Mrs. Valant. She hides your figure remarkably well," she added, making me wish to smack her with my overly beaded reticule.

Mr. Kent raised his brows. "What are they asking?"
"For me to heal a little girl."
"My God, the brutes, the monsters," he mocked.

As the late earl said, 'The early bird catches birds of a like feather,'" she said.
I nodded, not even trying to understand how that would work. At the very least, the combination of proverbs made it somewhat original.

What on earth is his hold over you? Did he threaten you? Beat you up? You know, I could help if he injured you - "

"Dearie, we owe 'im our lives." I gaped at them, certain I was mishearing. Perhaps they owed him their wives? Knives?

I sighed, leaning against the carriage seat. Perhaps I should take out a full-page advertisement that read: TO SEBASTIAN BRADDOCK: COME BACK, YOU BROODING FOOL.

I'm terribly sorry, my acquaintance here hardly knows how to talk to people. Please, let's start again and allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nicholas Kent, and accompanying me is the lovely Miss Wyndham, the frowning Mr. Braddock, the eternally calm Miss Chen, and the … Well, that's Mr. Redburn. How are you?"
"Irritated," she replied and another crack of bright light twisted across the sky.

Indeed, as my dear husband used to say, 'the apparel oft proclaims the man,'" Lady Atherton said.
Ah yes, wise words from the late Earl of Atherton, William Shakespeare.

Rose.It was her. Not some copy, not some actress. I knew it with every beat of my frantic heart. Then terror filled her eyes.

"Evelyn," she gasped. "He's in here - "

A hand appeared out of the shadows and clamped over her mouth. And she vanished.

I glanced at Robert, who looked at Rose, who looked back at Robert. Well, odd one out, then. Maybe he would propose if I disappeared.

"Oh look! Upholstery," I declared, feigning fascination with a side chair in the corner of the room.

A warm, ragged breath disturbed the hairs on my forehead, and my blood began pricking as I realized where exactly I had retreated: right into Mr. Braddock, our strange connection humming through the hairsbreadth of distance between our bodies, our faces. I froze, forcing myself to stop shoving against him further. Before I understood anything, a rough, large hand brushed my chin, my face tipped upwards, and his mouth caught mine, and suddenly my entire body was on fire. Whatever odd sensation had thrummed between us before was just the stroke of a violin bow to this clash of an orchestra. I felt the world pass between our lips, tasting champagne, hunger, and something indefinably darker, while his hand ignited sparks down my cheek to the nape of my neck. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, forcing that elusive essence to run deeper than my skin, deeper than my veins, until my very bones vibrated.

You were right, this is absolutely dismal," he said.

"Don't be so quick to judge," I replied. "Here comes the exciting part, where we continue to twirl in the exact same manner as before." Mr. Kent scoffed.

"Would you like to reverse our direction? Knock a few couples down?"

"But then there'll be nowhere to dance, with bodies all over the floor."

"My God, you are impossible to please.

Miss Wyndham, welcome. Shall I send for your luggage?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you, Tuffins. How have you been? I hope I haven't come at a bad time."

"There is never a bad time for your visits," he replied. As welcoming as I remember. I suspected his fondness for me stemmed from the fact that I was one of the few people who never made a request for "muffins" and snickered at the horrendous rhyme.

I warn you, sir, I am more than skilled in deadly combat," I said, hoping that was something someone more than skilled in deadly combat might say.

And then I noticed the small cake that still sat uneaten next to him. And another in front of his mother. That was the last straw. I fully disliked them. How dare they leave perfectly good cake untouched?

Is your power still working?" I asked Mr. Kent.
"I don't know. Do you find me handsome?" Mr. Kent returned.
"Yes," I replied, following it with a growl.
"Everything is clearly in order here," Mr. Kent said.

Our cab set off down the crowded Victoria Street toward the heart of the city, trundling past drab buildings and gray street corners at an agonizingly slow speed rivaling that of a dying cow. To make the trip even more enjoyable, pungent city scents seeped through the hansom doors - strangely enough also reminding me of a dying cow.

I'm sorry that I couldn't bring my extensive mask collection to London in my trunk. I had to make do. And you said nothing about my dress."

"That should have been self-evident. Instead of blending in, you will be the center of attention."

"Well, it can't be changed now. Do you want to pull out your copy of She Walks in Beauty and spend the next hour acting moody?

Was the man cleverer than he looked or just crazier? The line separating the two seemed rather thin

No, the true face is wretchedly simple and empty. The absolute joy in life, in friendship, in love, is learning about a person, deciphering them, taking each and every mask off to find a new one, waiting to be explored and understood.

All this drinking and dancing and flirting," Mr. Kent said with a sigh, balancing a glass on the railing for me. "Dreadful business, isn't it?"

"Yes, I don't understand it," I mumbled, accepting the champagne as if it could magically transport me away. No, still here. What on earth was he getting at? Was he toying with me?

"That's just it. Perspective is a curious thing. One day, you see everything from one angle and you think you know what's important," he continued, looking out at the dancers. Then he turned to me, smiling wryly. "Then another day, from another angle, you see what's really important, and everything else just . . . melts away."

"I see," I said without meeting his eyes, hoping he'd be dissuaded. He wasn't. His hand slid across the railing and caught mine.

"I have never seen you here before. Are you one of Mrs. Shine's girls?" he asked. Seen you here before? Downstairs, the tempo of the violins and cellos quickened. As my blood boiled, I could barely hear my own thoughts, and the response left my lips compulsively.

"No."

"Excellent, then might I ask, who is your - "

"I'm sorry, I can't help you," I interrupted, hurrying away past the bar and the horrible paintings toward the stairs.

"Please, wait!" he called from behind, chasing after me. "What is your name?"

"Evelyn Wyndham," I said, giving him a false name. Dammit. Champagne and Mr. Kent did not mix wel

We should return to the docks," Miss Grey suggested. "Perhaps they will be waiting there." Sure enough, she was correct - or at least, half correct. Mr. Kent was leaning on a splintery post by the Aurora, shaking his head as we approached.

"It took you three far too long to return here," he said. "Did you not learn that universal tenet as a child? If you ever lose track of your mother, go back to the last place you shared, no other. It's not terribly complicated.

Only you, Sebastian! Only you would get a mortal injury in a lady's bedroom!

How did you get in?"
He glowered at me and blushed in the early light. "It's - it's unimportant."
"Sebastian."
"Hmm?"
"Please, please tell me you didn't scale the walls and climb in through my window."
He glared harder.
"If you don't wish me to think of you as some kind of tragic Gothic figure, you really must stop acting like one.

Miss Wyndham, when I first met you in London, I thought you the most intelligent and the strongest girl I had ever had the pleasure of meeting. She would never moon after some mopey, dark boy. She would look for the man that challenged her, amused her, and made her sparkle and enjoy life.

But this time I was the one cut off as he gave a curt bow and turned, striding down the corridor toward the gardens and, I hoped, off a nearby cliff. Good riddance.

Unable to break the tenacious grip, Claude spun around and forced Mr. Braddock backward, slamming him hard into the walls, crashing into bookcases, and finally, in a desperate move, throwing himself out the street window. A shrill, useless scream escaped from my throat as the glass shattered and the cold London air rushed in. The pair disappeared out the window. There was the briefest silence, a thud, and a rattling.

Lately, in order to win you over, I've been finding myself thinking, What would Mr. Braddock do in this situation? And it took me far too long to realize what that meant: I wanted to tell you that I would not be interfering anymore. I don't pretend to understand why it is that you would want to be with him, but even someone without my superior detective skills would notice how you gravitate toward each other.

Granted, Mr. Kent was also making somewhat of a spectacle of himself, tasting an unfamiliar pastry and attempting to get its name and ingredients from the poor vendor. Mr. Braddock wore a pained expression, trying to divert Mr. Kent, and Miss Chen seemed to be pretending she had no connection to either of them.

Another portal crackled open. "Good God, where are we, the sun?" Mr. Kent shouted.
"No," our whole group answered in unison.
He shot me an apologetic look. "That one was meant to be rhetorical.

The room boasted many luxurious perks: a narrow bed, a rotted writing table, a stained wall, and a warped looking glass dangling on a rusty hook. I wondered if Mr. Kent recommended this hellish place so I would hurry back to his home.

Finally our eyes held each other.
Don't kiss him.
"I was worried," he said, slowly pulling himself off the bed frame, leaning forward. His face was so close to mine in the quiet morning. My heart faltered once before catching a new rhythm, faster than before. Sebastian's dark hair had never looked so careless and my fingers itched to return to the inky strands. His eyes were the softest mossy green, and I was sure that all his usual awkward reserve had melted in this strange dawn. When I realized that his eyes were glued to my lips, I instinctively parted them, sucking in a fast breath.
Don't you dare kiss him, Evelyn.
He was so close I could have counted the strands of gold that gleamed in the green of his eyes. I could have shifted forward one breath and his lips would be on mine. I was dizzy, lost in the world that existed here between us.

There was not enough tea in the world to make it bearable.

Was anyone unclothed?" Mr. Kent said sarcastically, clearly not expecting an affirmative answer.
However.
"A bit," my uncooperative mouth responded and I tried to cover it with a yelp. This was absurd. Both of them were absurd, tonight was absurd, and I was, assuredly, absurd.

All the ending does is ruin perfectly good suspense," he said with a wink and headed for the door.

Why are you here?" he asked, staring around me at Mr. Kent.
Mr. Kent laughed uncomfortably. "Why does anyone go to a gambling house?"
"To gamble," Sebastian answered.
"To find information for our plan," I muttered, Mr. Kent's power inadvertently affecting me as well.
"What plan?" Sebastian asked.
I glared at Mr. Kent. "Nothing, nothing at all."
"No one seems to understand what a rhetorical question is these days," Mr. Kent said to the skies.

Well, when one door closes, another slightly more inconvenient, out-of-the-way one opens. Let's be off, shall we?

It's almost indecent," Mr. Kent said with a sigh.
"What is?"
"The way you look at each other.

There were five different doors and I didn't know which to take. Mr. Kent was throwing them open, calling down each in turn.

"Lady Atherton, have you gone this way?"

"Yes" was the distant reply at the third door.

"Oh, splendid, thank you.