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Quote by Lisa Kleypas

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Cold-Hearted Rake

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Lisa Kleypas
Lisa Kleypas

Lisa Kleypas, born in 1964, is a renowned American romance novel author. Her works are known for their delicate emotional descriptions and captivating storylines, which have won the hearts of numerous readers. more

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“There's much to do," she said. "The funeral will be in Ireland." She gave Helen a stricken glance. "I haven't been there since I was a child." "You don't have to make decisions right now," Helen said. "Perhaps you should go upstairs and lie down." "I can't, there are things I must-" Kathleen stopped as Devon entered the room. His intent gaze swept over her, coming to rest on her bleached white face. "What is it, love?" he asked gently. "My father's gone." She tried very hard to sound prosaic. "It's not a surprise, of course. We knew that he was in ill health." "Yes." Devon came forward and took her rigid form against his, wrapping her in his arms. "I'm perfectly calm," she said against his shoulder. "Yes." Devon kissed her temple. His face was taut with concern, the blue eyes hazed with tenderness. "I'm not going to cry." Her tone was matter-of-fact. "He certainly wouldn't have wanted my tears." Devon smoothed her hair, his hand covering half her small head. "Give them to me, then," he said softly. Kathleen hid her face in his shirtfront, her slight form seeming to wilt. In a few seconds, a low, broken keening sound began to emerge without stopping. Her husband laid his cheek on her head and cradled her closer against the solid reassurance of his body.”

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“Failures make you humble, they make you realize that you are not the center of the world, proving that we are all alike, and they also shower you with wisdom. That’s why I have always been a great fan of failures as they offer you more than success can.”

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“Kathleen and Devon managed to focus most of the conversation on one of Lady Berwick's favorite subjects: horses. Both Lord and Lady Berwick were keen horse enthusiasts, occupying themselves with the training of thoroughbreds at their Leominster estate. In fact, that was how they had originally become acquainted with Kathleen's parents, Lord and Lady Carbery, who had owned an Arabian stud farm in Ireland. Lady Berwick displayed a lively interest upon learning that Kathleen would inherit at least two dozen horses of purebred Arabian stock, and a parcel of land comprising a riding school, stables, paddocks, and an arena.”

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“I think I'll wear the Chian outfit,' he said to his body servant standing waiting for orders. Many men in Marius's position would have lain back in the bath water and demanded that they be scrubbed, scraped, and massaged by slaves, but Gaius Marius preferred to do his own dirty work, even now. Mind you, at forty-seven he was still a fine figure of a man. Nothing to be ashamed of about his physique! No matter how ostensibly inert his days might be, he got in a fair amount of exercise, worked with the dumbbells and the closhes, swam if he could several times across the Tiber in the reach called the Trigarium, then ran all the way back from the far perimeter of the Campus Martius to his house on the flanks of the Capitoline Arx. His hair was getting a bit thin on top, but he still had enough dark brown curls to brush forward into a respectable coiffure. There. That would have to do. A beauty he had never been, never would be. A good face - even an impressive one - but no rival for Gaius Julius Caesar's!”

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“Let's set aside the subject of Tom Severin for a moment," West told Cassandra. "Phoebe and I have come up with a plan." "It's West's plan," Phoebe said. "You'll recall she has a younger brother named Raphael," West continued. "Tall, unmarried, nice teeth. He's perfect." "He's not at all perfect," Phoebe said. "And how do you know he's tall and has nice teeth?" "Your parents are obviously incapable of producing a less than superior human being.”

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“Phoebe left a note asking me to go through our family genealogy books to see if we had any Scottish ancestors. She found none on your mother's side at all, and she said you'd be disappointed if there were none on Father's side." Surprised and touched by both sisters' concern, Keir shook his head with a smile. "Dinna worry about that, Seraphina. I decided 'tis enough to be Scottish in my heart." "Still, you wouldn't mind if I told you we have some Scottish blood, would you?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. "Because I've discovered that we do in fact have a Scot in our family tree! It's been overlooked because he's not in our direct line. I had to trace the connection through some female ancestors instead of going only through the male lineage. But we are very clearly indisputably descended from a Scot who was our great-great-great-great-great... well, let's say eighteen-times-great... grandfather. And just see who it is!" Seraphina unfolded the parchment, which was inscribed with a long vertical chart of connected names. And at the top- ROBERT I King of Scots "Robert the Bruce?" Keir could feel his heart expanding in his chest. "Yes," Seraphina said gleefully, leaping up and bouncing on her heels. Keir stood, laughing, and bent to kiss her cheek. "One drop of Robert the Bruce's blood will do the job. I could no' be happier. Thank you, sister." He tried to hand the chart back to her, but she shook her head. "Keep that if you like. Isn't it wonderful news? I have to go tell Ivo we're Scottish!" She left the room triumphantly.”

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“Later, when there's an opportunity, I want to introduce you to your two remaining siblings. You would enjoy their company. You and Gabriel, in particular, are much alike in temperament. He married into the Ravenel family, and his wife is a thoroughly charming woman---" "Oh, Pandora is my favorite!" came a new voice from the doorway, and they both glanced at the threshold where Seraphina was standing. "She's very witty and fun, and a bit odd in the nicest possible way." With her slender form clad in a green dress, and her brilliant golden-red hair trailing over her shoulder in a thick braid, she reminded Keir of a mermaid.”

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“Two nights after the Chaworth ball, Gabriel practiced at the billiards table in the private apartments above Jenner's. The luxurious rooms, which had once been occupied by his parents in the earlier days of their marriage, were now reserved for the convenience of the Challon family. Raphael, one of his younger brothers, usually lived at the club, but at the moment was on an overseas trip to America. He'd gone to source and purchase a large quantity of dressed pine timber on behalf of a Challon-owned railway construction company. American pine, for its toughness and elasticity, was used as transom ties for railways, and it was in high demand now that native British timber was in scarce supply. The club wasn't the same without Raphael's carefree presence, but spending time alone here was better than the well-ordered quietness of his terrace at Queen's Gate. Gabriel relished the comfortably masculine atmosphere, spiced with scents of expensive liquor, pipe smoke, oiled Morocco leather upholstery, and the acrid pungency of green baize cloth. The fragrance never failed to remind him of the occasions in his youth when he had accompanied his father to the club. For years, the duke had gone almost weekly to Jenner's to meet with managers and look over the account ledgers. His wife Evie had inherited it from her father, Ivo Jenner, a former professional boxer. The club was an inexhaustible financial engine, its vast profits having enabled the duke to improve his agricultural estates and properties, and accumulate a sprawling empire of investments. Gaming was against the law, of course, but half of Parliament were members of Jenner's, which had made it virtually exempt from prosecution. Visiting Jenner's with his father had been exciting for a sheltered boy. There had always been new things to see and learn, and the men Gabriel had encountered were very different from the respectable servants and tenants on the estate. The patrons and staff at the club had used coarse language and told bawdy jokes, and taught him card tricks and flourishes. Sometimes Gabriel had perched on a tall stool at a circular hazard table to watch high-stakes play, with his father's arm draped casually across his shoulders. Tucked safely against the duke's side, Gabriel had seen men win or lose entire fortunes in a single night, all on the tumble of dice.”

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