Devil's Daughter: The Ravenels meet The Wallflowers

When Pandora reached him and the veil was pushed back, St. Vincent broke with etiquette by leaning down to press a tender kiss on her forehead. “That part isn’t ’til later,” Pandora whispered to him, but it was loud enough that the people around them overheard, and a rustle of laughter swept through the crowd.

If you won’t promise me forever, West Ravenel . . . I’ll take what I can have of you.

“I would show you the appropriate finger,” West muttered, “if it weren’t stuck in this baby handle.” He tugged at his imprisoned middle digit, trying to free it without snapping the teacup’s porcelain loop.

Looking very pleased with himself, the toddler squeezed applesauce through his fingers and licked at it. “Yummy apples,” he told her.

“What if it turns out to be a mistake?” “Then I suspect you’ll have had a delightful time making it.”

“You should humor my daughter’s wishes, Ravenel,” Sebastian advised from behind her. “The last time I tried to refuse her something, she launched into a screaming fit that lasted at least an hour.” The comment broke the trance. “Father,” Phoebe protested with a laugh, twisting to glance at him over her shoulder, “I was two years old!” “It made a la

“Will he have to stay in bed? I’ll bring my cat to visit him.” Phoebe frowned regretfully. “Justin, I’m afraid you can’t keep her.” “Oh, I already knew that.” “Good. Well, then—” “—but you see, Mama, she wants to keep me.”

Work is a kind of language—we understand each other better afterward.”

“Sometimes the mystery is more delightful than the answer.”