Sublime

“It’s a ring,” he said. “I love it.” “Emma, you haven’t opened it.” “Yes, I know. I don’t have to. I love it already.”

She swiped a scalding tear from her cheek. “And do you know what? She was right to run away. She deserved better. I deserve better, too.”

Have you truly made love on horseback? she wanted to ask. How does that even work? Was it how you were injured?

“Don’t worry. You’ve survived worse.” “Yes. I suppose I have.” He smiled that slow, one-sided smile she’d come to adore.

In that moment, Clio realized something wonderful. She just didn’t care.

“Just in case this unnamed strange gentleman tries something untoward.” “And if he did, what would you do about it? Bleed on the man?” She laughed.

As young ladies went, Miss Abigail Pelham was everything that made Izzy despair. From the moment the vicar’s daughter had walked—nay, floated—into the great hall, Izzy had known they were creatures of different breeds.

“How will you know if you don’t try?”

Daisy had known the novel was silly even as she had read it, but that had not detracted one bit from her enjoyment. And she had been perversely disappointed when Penelope had been rescued from imminent ruin by the bland golden-haired hero Reginald, who was not nearly as interesting as the villain.