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260 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 14, 2021
He had to move his feet, which left him very little room to sprawl languidly. Sprawling languidly was one of his favourite activities. That and pushing his dish of pudding aside after two bites and saying, “I couldn’t possibly.”
And do not let those poor elephants have died in vain, Morgan. Wear your ivory buttons proudly.” “Thank you, Uncle, I shall! I— What do you mean, elephants?” The earl frowned again. “You do know that ivory comes from elephants. Yes?” “Of course. From their great white tusks.” “Right. I was merely saying they shall have died for a good cause if you wear your buttons proudly.” “But why should they have died at all?” “Morgan, how do you think people acquire the tusks?”
They stood for a moment in breathless silence. Morgan knew he ought to say something, but he did not want to move. Did not want to do anything but look at Loftus Rivingdon. “Do you think I’m very ugly?” It seemed Loftus hadn’t meant to ask the question—and was deeply embarrassed that he had. Tempting as it might have been to lie, to say yes and destroy all he could reach of Loftus’s confidence, Morgan couldn’t have made himself say it if he’d wanted to. “No,” he whispered. “You are absolutely gorgeous.”
“I suppose,” Morgan ventured tentatively after a moment, “that at least you will see elephants.” Loftus hesitated. “Oh, I think that there are not any elephants in New South Wales, Morgan.” Morgan’s lovely brow creased. “What am I thinking of, then?” “Sheep?” Loftus asked. “I am sure it must be elephants,” Morgan said primly. “I do not see how one could confuse them with sheep, after all.” Neither did Loftus, but here they were.
“Tonight was so very thrilling.” “Very thrilling!” Morgan echoed. “I cannot believe I held a lamb for so long. Warry would be envious. My arms are sore!” “I cannot believe we were shot at.” “Oh, yes, that too.”
“At Gretna Green, you will be handfasted.” Morgan was unsure what exactly that meant, but he was fairly sure Slyfeel had done it to at least six people in The Maiden Diaries. “That is a marriage ceremony that requires neither the church, nor your mamas’ permission.” Ah, then Morgan must have been thinking of something else.
“We shall both vow to be better tomorrow than we are today, and we shall make the same vow each day. That is all we can do.”
“Oh, don’t you remember volume two, chapter seven? When Slyfeel says he will ride the Count of Ammonleigh for ten straight minutes straight, yet he is so attracted to the Count that to keep from spending he must think of his worst enemy? You must try that.” “My worst enemy until very recently was you,” Loftus ground out. “Ah, yes, I see how that could be a problem.”