Jarret Quotes

He's rumored to have more bravery than sense."
"Then he and Gabe make a good pair," Oliver growled.
"Lay off of him, will you?" Jarret told Oliver. Closest to being a blend of their parents, he had black hair but blue-green eyes and no trace of Oliver's Italian features. "You've been ragging him ever since that stupid carriage race. He was drunk. It's a state you ought to be familiar with."
Oliver whirled on Jarret. "Yes, but you were not drunk, yet you let him-"
"Don't blame Jarret," Gabe put in. "Chetwin challenged me to it. He would have branded me a coward if I'd refused."
"Better a coward than dead." Oliver had no tolerance for such idiocy. Nothing was worth risking one's life for-not a woman, not honor, and certainly not reputation. A pity that he hadn't yet impressed that upon his idiot brothers.
Gabe, of all people, ought to know better. The course he'd run was the most dangerous in London. Two large boulders flanked the path so closely that only one rig could pass between them, forcing a driver to fall back at the last minute to avoid being dashed on the rocks. Many was the time drivers pulled out too late.
The sporting set called it "threading the needle." Oliver called it madness. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Life wasn't for lamenting what you'd lost. It was for enjoying what you had, for however long you got to have it. While it was always terrible to lose those precious to you, it was far more terrible never to have had them at all. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

We have to find a way to push them together," Minerva said. "You know perfectly well that if Oliver marries, Gran will forget this ridiculous idea of hers about the rest of us marrying. She just wants him to produce an heir"
Hetty's eyebrows shot high. Her granddaughter had a big surprise coming down the road.
"And you're willing to throw him under the wheels of the coach to save yourself, is that it?" Jarret quipped.
"No!" Her voice softened. "You and I both know he needs someone to drag him out of himself. Or he's just going to get scarier as he gets older." She paused. "Did you tell him about Miss Butterfield's being an heiress?"
That certainly arrested Hetty's attention. She hadn't dreamed that the girl had money.
"Yes, but I fear that might have been a mistake-when I suggested that he marry her for her fortune, he got angry."
Of course he got angry, you fool, Hetty thought with a roll of her eyes. Honestly, did her grandson know nothing about his brother?
"For goodness sake, Jarret, you weren't supposed to suggest that. You were supposed to get him concerned that she might fall prey to fortune hunters."
At least Minerva had a brain.
"Damn," Jarret said. "Then I probably shouldn't have exaggerated the amount."
"Oh, Lord." Minerva sighed. "By how much?"
"I kind of…tripled it."
Minerva released an unladylike oath. "Why did you do that? Now he won't go near her. Haven't you noticed how much he hates talk of marrying ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Good God, Miss Butterfield," Lord Jarret said. "Don't tell me you read Minerva's Gothic horrors."
"They're not Gothic horrors!" Maria protested. "They're wonderful books! And yes, I've read every single one, more than once."
"Well, that explains a few things," Oliver remarked. "I suppose I have my sister to thank for turning a sword on me at the brothel."
Lord Gabriel laughed. "You took a sword to old Oliver? Oh, God, that's rich!"
Lord Jarret sipped some wine. "At least the mystery of the 'weapons at her disposal' is now solved."
"He was misbehaving," Maria said, with a warning glance for Oliver. Did he want them to know everything, for pity's sake? "He left me no choice."
"Oh, Maria's always doing things like that," Freddy said through a mouth full of eel. "That's why we won't teach her to shoot. She always goes off half-cocked."
Maria thrust out her chin. "A woman has to stand up for herself."
"Hear, hear!" Lady Celia raised her goblet of wine to Maria. "Don't mind these clod-pates. What can you expect from a group of men? They would prefer we let them run roughshod over us."
"No, we wouldn't," Lord Gabriel protested. "I like a woman with a little fire. Of course, I can't speak for Oliver-"
"I assure you, I rarely feel the need to run roughshod over a woman," Oliver drawled. An arch smile touched his lips as his gaze locked with Maria's. "I've kissed one or two when they weren't prepared for it, but every man does that."
Sabrina Jeffries

Half inebriated, he vaulted up the stairs to find them lolling in chairs in the hall outside Maria's door. Gabe clasped a bunch of violets in his hand while Jarret held a rolled-up piece of parchment in his.
"What are you two louts doing here in the middle of the night?" he growled.
"It's nearly dawn," Gabe said coolly. "Hardly the middle of the night. Not that you would have noticed, in your drunken state."
Scowling, Oliver took a step toward them. "It's still earlier than you, at least, every rise."
Gabe glanced at Jarret. "Clearly, the old boy doesn't remember what today is."
"I believe you're right," Jarret returned, a hint of condemnation in his tone.
Oliver glared at them both as he sifted through his soggy brain for what they menat. When it came to him, he groaned. St. Valentine's Day. That sobered him right up. "That doesn't explain why you're lurking outside Maria's door."
Jarret cast him a scathing glance as he got to his feet. "Why do you care? You ran off to town to find your entertainment. Seems to me that you're relinquishing the field."
"So you two intend to step in?" he snapped.
"Why not?" Gabe rose to glower at him. "Since your plan to thwart Gran isn't working, and it's looking as if we'll have to marry someone, we might as well have a go at Miss Butterfield. She's an heiress and a very nice girl, too, in case you hadn't noticed If you're stupid enough to throw her over for a bunch of whores and opera dancers, we' ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Jarret condemns the burnings, but does so in such mild language that his people are free to hear what they want to hear. As for the beatings, the tarring and feathering, and the destruction of "heathen houses of devil-worship," he has a simple answer: "Join us! Our doors are open to every nationality, every race! Leave your sinful past behind, and become one of us. Help us to make America great again." He's had notable success with this carrot-and-stick approach. ~ Octavia E. Butler

Hetty was awakened from a doze in a chair by the sound of a door opening. She was about to make herself known to whoever had entered the library when someone else entered, too, and she heard Minerva say, "Well? What do you think? Am I right about Oliver and Miss Butterfield?"
Shrinking into the chair, she prayed she wouldn't be noticed in the corner.
"It certainly looks that way." It was Jarret's voice. "He does seem to have genuine feelings for her. I've never witnessed him act like that over a woman. You should have seen him-ready to strike me when I suggested going after her myself."
"What a brilliant touch!" Minerva cried. "I told you he liked her. And I'll hazard a guess that she likes him, too. I went up to her room after they got back, and she blushed furiously when I asked if Oliver had behaved himself."
"That's the problem. Liking her is one thing, but whether he'll act on the attraction honorably is another matter entirely. Oliver isn't used to being around a woman he's not allowed to…er…"
"Take to bed."
Hetty blinked.
"My God, Minerva, don't say things like that! You're not supposed to know about such matters."
"Pish posh. I could hardly grow up with a rogue for a father and three rogue brothers without hearing a few things."
Hetty had to chomp on the inside of her cheek to stifle her laugh.
"Well, at least pretend you don't know, will you?" Jarret grumbled. "One day you'll say something like that in public and give ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Holy fuk." Lieutenant Jarret snorted. "Private Checya, I think you've just expressed the official reaction. ~ Tanya Huff

Thank you for the advice, but I know how to comport myself with Maria."
"That remains to be seen." Jarret rose, then bent to plant his hands on the desk. "But know this-none of us will stand by and let you ruin a young woman just to provoke Gran."
Oliver shot to his feet. That his brother thought him capable of such a thing infuriated him, as did being lectured by him. It had never happened before, and he wasn't about to allow it now.
Leaning forward until he and Jarret were eye to eye over the desk, he growled, "And what the deuce do you think you can do to stop me from acting as I please?"
A grim smile touched Jarret's lips. "I could attempt to steal her from you."
Somewhere in the recesses of his sanity, Oliver knew he was being baited, yet it made no difference. Just the idea of Jarret seeking to engage Maria's affections crushed his usual control.
"If you lay a hand on her," he ground out, "Gabe won't be the only one wearing a sling in this family."
With an enigmatic look, Jarret pushed back from the desk. "Fine." His eyes turned to ice. "But be warned-the rest of us intend to make sure that you never lay a hand on her, either." Without waiting for a response, he strode from the room. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Outside the room they found his family standing in the Great Hall, discussing something in heated whispers as Freddy nervously paced the other end.
Oliver cleared his throat, and they all jumped. "My fiancée has made it clear that she doesn't appreciate my attempt at a joke."
"Oliver enjoys shocking people," Maria said calmly. When he looked at her, surprised that she had noticed, she arched one eyebrow at him. "I'm sure you know that about him by now. I find it a great flaw in his character."
She seemed to consider many things as flaws in his character. Not that he could blame her.
Gran glanced from Maria to him. "So the two of you didn't meet in a brothel?"
"We did," he said, "but only because poor Freddy got lost and wandered into one by mistake. I was trying to determine what he was looking for when Maria rushed in, mad with worry over where he might have gone off to. With two such Americans lost in the wicked city, hopelessly innocent of its dangers, I felt compelled to help them. I've been squiring them about town the last week. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
She cast him a sugary and thoroughly false smile. "Oh, yes, dearest. And you were a very informative guide, too."
Jarret arched one eyebrow. "Astonishing that after finding you in a brothel, Oliver, Miss Butterfield wasn't put off of marrying you."
"I ought to have been," Maria said. "But he swore those days were behind him when he pledged his undying love to me on bended kne ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Jarret insists on being a throwback to some earlier, "simpler" time. Now does not suit him. Religious tolerance does not suit him. The current state of the country does not suit him. He wants to take us all back to some magical time when everyone believed in the same God, worshipped him in the same way, and understood that their safety in the universe depended on completing the same religious rituals and stomping anyone who was different. There was never such a time in this country. But these days when more than half the people in the country can't read at all, history is just one more vast unknown to them. Jarret ~ Octavia E. Butler

So now Nathan had a new partner, who, by all accounts, was a dour old drudge with nary a daughter to his name. She'd seen Nathan in town once since then. He had not looked happy.
But she was insanely happy, especially after what the doctor had hold her yesterday. With only a few days left at home, she and Freddy had dragged Jane and Oliver on a romantic picnic. So far, it wasn't going all that well. Poor Jane darted up at every sound. Freddy's mischievous brothers had convinced her that wild Indians might descend upon them any minute, and no amount of Freddy's posturing with the sword could relieve her fears.
Oliver was no help, either. He kept pretending to see feather headdresses behind every bush, though Maria had told him repeatedly that the only tribes in their area had left long ago. He was every bit as devilish as her cousins, who'd embraced him instantly as a man after their own heats. Aunt Rose had pronounced Oliver a smooth-tongued rogue the first time he told her how fetching she looked in her peacock bonnet.
Little did she know.
"Are you sure there's a fish pond back there, Freddy?" Jane asked skeptically as Freddy led her around a deserted cabin.
"Quite sure." He puffed out his chest. "I've caught many a fine trout in that pond."
"More like trout bait," Maria told Oliver, who was stretched out on the blanket beside her, reading a letter from Jarret. "I've never seen a fish longer than my thumb in that pond. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

You see, Jarret?" she said softly. "It can't work. We want different things. You want to follow the wind where it leads, and I want to dig my roots deep. You're a river, and I'm a tree. The tree can never follow the river, and the river can never stay with the tree. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

You poor dear. I can hardly endure it when my brothers are staying at the town house. They're always causing some trouble or another."
"Oh, yes, and you never cause any trouble," Oliver teased. "Never mind the shooting match where you brought three men to blows over whose rifle you should deign to use. Or the spectacle you made of yourself when you dressed as a man to enter a match. Or-"
"You can shoot a rifle, Lady Celia?" Maria leaned forward. "How did you learn? I've always wanted to myself, but Papa and my cousins refused to show me how a rifle works. Could you teach me?"
"No!" Oliver and Freddy said in unison. Then Oliver added, "Absolutely not."
Lord Gabriel leaned close. "I'd be happy to teach you, Miss Butterfield."
"Stay out of this, Gabe," Oliver growled. "Bad enough you taught Celia. Maria already has enough weapons at her disposal."
His grandmother arched one eyebrow. "Pray tell, what sort of weapons do you mean?"
Oliver paused, then gave a lazy smile. "Why, her beauty, of course. That weapon is devastating enough."
"It won't stop a scoundrel from manhandling a woman," Lady Minerva put in.
"As if you know anything about that," Lord Jarret pointed out. "Just because the heroines in your books get manhandled with nauseating regularity doesn't mean the average woman does. ~ Sabrina Jeffries