Sublime

bouclé

collogue.

Garrett laughed. “Carys, I would rather catch a cold than a husband. I have no wish to marry anyone.” Carys gave her a wise glance. “You will when you’re older.” Helen buried a smile amid the little rag-curl bundles on the child’s head.

Mrs. Thorpe was a widow, and not a very rich one; she was a good-humoured, well-meaning woman, and a very indulgent mother. Her eldest daughter had great personal beauty, and the younger ones, by pretending to be as handsome as their sister, imitating her air, and dressing in the same style, did very well.

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“Gabriel—” the duchess began, but fell silent as he slid her a glance of bright mischief. The duke regarded his son dubiously. “If you’re trying to be charming,” he said, “I should tell you that it’s not going well.”

chiaroscuro).

“Dov,” she said. “Would you mind …?” She shook her chain.

raconteur?