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“We’re at a holiday ball where I’m auctioning off the paintings my dead husband commissioned for his mistress. Does it sound like I’ve been treated kindly thus far?” A flush imbued her cheeks with a red glow as she huffed in annoyance. The Bryony he’d known prior to her marriage had been polite and a tad stiff in his presence—a genteel lady careful with her manners. This show of frustration intrigued him. I can’t afford to be intrigued.” — Jemma Frost
We’re at a holiday ball where I’m auctioning off the paintings my dead husband
commissioned for his mistress. Does it sound like I’ve been treated kindly thus far?”
A flush imbued her cheeks with a red glow as she huffed in annoyance. The Bryony
he’d known prior to her marriage had been polite and a tad stiff in his presence—a
genteel lady careful with her manners.
This show of frustration intrigued him.
I can’t afford to be intrigued.