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Quote by Caroline Linden

“It was a relief to believe that she was as she seemed, but the more he liked her, the less fair it seemed that she was being fooled. And Hugh wasn't such an ogre that he didn't care for her feelings. On the contrary, he was coming to like her very much. Unlike many society girls, Eliza didn't act as if any gentleman nearby was obliged to amuse her. She expressed such delight in a simple posy, he couldn't help wondering what she would say if he presented her with a real gift. She seemed utterly content to spend time in her garden with her dog, and didn't even evince the slightest boredom at living in Greenwich away from the whirl of society. He told himself it must be easy, with Cross's vast fortune at her disposal; she needn't fret about a dark and drab drawing room, as Edith did, or moan about her lack of new gowns, as Henrietta did. But somehow he knew it wasn't just the money. Eliza wasn't the type to complain. Instead she gave every appearance of being content with her life and taking joy in small pleasures.”

Quote by Caroline Linden

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An Earl Like You

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Caroline Linden

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“So much for fearing a shy, paralyzed virgin; she might be innocent, but Eliza had pressed against him and kissed him back until he completely forgot that he was pursuing her because of her father's manipulations. That thought cooled his blood somewhat. Edward Cross wanted him to court and marry his daughter, didn't he? Hugh smiled grimly. Cross was about to get exactly what he wanted. And so was he. Not only Cross's money, but Eliza herself.”

“People in France have a phrase: "Spirit of the Stairway." In French: esprit d'Escalier. It means that moment when you find the answer but it's too late. So you're at a party and someone insults you. You have to say something. So, under pressure, with everybody watching, you say something lame. But the moment you leave the party . . . As you start down the stairway, then - magic. You come up with the perfect thing you should've said. The perfect crippling put down. That's the Spirit of the Stairway.”

“Her hands went still. Hugh stared at the nape of her neck, at the honey-colored wisps curling against her pale skin. Could he chance it? Did he have a choice? "Bravo," called Cross from his seat. "What did you think, Hastings?" He had to clear his throat. "Lovely. You've a splendid voice, Miss Cross." She twisted to look up at him, her eyes shining with delight. "Thank you, sir." Hugh smiled on instinct. That look... She wasn't a beauty, nor even very pretty. London society would call her plain. But when she gazed at a man that way, with her heart in her eyes, she was not ordinary.”