Mimi Matthews

Philly stared at Elizabeth, dumbstruck. The idea that a creature as lovely as Lady Eliot could find anything in her to be jealous of was frankly astonishing. It wasn’t that Philly valued her own looks so meanly, but that she’d spent her whole life thinking herself more odd than beautiful. If she’d been gawped at or made a fuss over, it had never been on account of being pretty. It had been on account of being different.

“Indeed, I have. I seem to find myself confiding in you about all sorts of things each time we meet. It’s an inexcusable behavior. All I can say in my defense is that since I’ve come to London, you’re the only person I’ve met that I feel at ease with. I suppose it sounds rather silly, since I hardly know you.”

. “You sound as if you think my situation is hopeless, sir, and it may well be, but what else do you propose I do? Simply give up my plan and consent to marry the duke?”

“Three years ago, I would have proposed that I put a bullet in him,” Captain Heywood said brutally. “Now I can offer you no such assistance in that regard. In truth, Miss Satterthwaite, the only thing I have left to offer you, as worthless as it is and as undesirable as it may be to you, is my name.”

“I showed you that you were my love our first night together, and I’ve affirmed it every day since. It’s in everything I do for you. Every look and every touch. I may not have said the words—God knows why. Some ridiculous desire not to render myself vulnerable, I daresay. But it was never because I didn’t feel it. I feel it too damned much. There are days when I think I’ll run mad from it.” His gaze held hers. “I never loved Caroline Eliot. I’ve never loved any woman in the world but you.”