Genevieve Eversea Quotes

“And with awe he saw her lose her battle with that smile.
It fought first with one corner of her mouth, then the other, and then it broke all over her like a sunrise. The very shape of her face changed. Or rather, she came into focus at last in that moment; she'd simply been awaiting illumination from within.
There were dimples, and a pointed chin, and elegant cheekbones. Her face was heart-shaped, sweetly drawn, very 'alive.' She was 'incandescent' with wicked amusement.
In that moment was an entirely different girl.
He stared, stunned.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“Who is your favorite painter, Miss Eversea?"
"I might have to say Titian." She said this almost reluctantly, as if Titian was something precious she kept to herself. "It's the luminous quality of the tones of skin, the incomparable reds, the affection with which he paints his..."
She stopped and gave her head a little shake, and a small smile and a half shrug, as though she secretly qualified to describe the wonder of Titian.
And because she suspected she was boring him.
'Luminous quality.' Titian didn't particularly interest him. But what he did to Miss Genevieve's face when she'd described him, in fact, fascinated him.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“It's only that... well, if Olivia cannot be with the man she loves, as he has vanished like a bloody 'cowardly'..."
She stopped talking abruptly. Yanking herself back like a dog on a leash.
Which was a pity, as the words had acquired a fascinating whiff of venom and had begun to escalate in volume. She would have done some squeaking of her own.
Genevieve Eversea was beginning to interest him.
"If she cannot be with the man she loves..." he prompted.
"I do believe she can only to be with someone... impressive."
"Impressive..." He pretended to ponder this. "I hope you do not think I presume, but I cannot help but wonder if you're referring to me. Given my rank and fortune, some might describe me as such. And I'm flattered indeed, given that there really are so many other words you could have chosen to describe me."
A pause followed. The girl was most definitely a 'thinker.'
"We have only just become acquainted, Lord Moncrieffe. I might elect to use other words to describe you should I come to know you better."
Exquisite and refined as convent lace, her manners, her delivery.
And still he could have sworn she was having one over on him.
She seemed to be watching her feet now. The scenery didn't interest her, or it caused her discomfort.
And as he watched her, something unfamiliar stirred.
He was... 'genuinely' interested in what she might say next.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“She did draw and paint and did both diligently, but possessed modest talent. She didn't mind. Her gift and passion lay in the observation and recognition of talent and beauty, whether it was found in the work of an Italian master or the profile of a viscount-to-be.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“Genevieve was familiar with one of the duke's properties- Rosemont- as she'd gone to tour it once when he was away at one of his other vast tracts of lands. It was surprisingly modest by duke terms, a redbrick manor in West Sussex presiding over a collection of softly swelling hills, which surrounded a lake populated by enormous, irritable swans and overhung with willows. The garden had been brilliant with its namesake blooms and the fountain in the courtyard featured a lasciviously grinning stone satyr performing an arabesque and spitting water high into the air.
She'd found it delightful. Its pocket-sized, whimsical beauty hardly seemed to suit him, but then he normally spent his time in London and likely had all but forgotten he owned it.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“He was polite; he was cool; he was enigmatic. He was every bit what they expected and wanted the storied Duke of Falconbridge to be, because it amused him to be so.
In truth, his eyes were on the stairs. He waited with the patience of a cat near a mouse hole for Genevieve Eversea to arrive.
He almost didn't recognize her when she did appear.
Her dress was a glossy silk of midnight blue, cut very low, and the "sleeves"- really scraps of net- clung to her pale, flawless shoulders, as though she'd tumbled down through clouds to get here and brought a few sheds of sky with her.
Her neck was long. Her collarbone had that smooth pristine temptation of a bank of new-fallen snow. It was interrupted only by a drop of a blue stone on a chain that pointed directly at quite confident cleavage, as if the owner knew full well it was splendid and was accustomed to exposing it. Her sleek dark hair was dressed up high and away from her face, and tiny diamanté sparks were scattered through it. Her face beneath it was revealed in delicate simplicity. A smooth, pale, high forehead, etched cheekbones. Elegant as Wedgwood, set off by that dark, dark hair and those vivid eyes.
He stared.
He wasn't precisely... nonplussed. Still, this particular vision of Genevieve Eversea required reconciling with the quiet girl in the morning dress, the moor pony with the determined gait. As though they were not quite the same thing, or were perhaps 'variations' of the same thing, like verb tenses. He felt a bit like a boy who needed to erase his morning lessons and begin again.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“Genevieve's fan slipped from her grasp. Perhaps she'd been having a quiet laugh at his expense and it had jostled from her grip. When she bent over to retrieve it, her bodice gapped, affording him a startlingly view of almost 'all' of two deliciously round, pale breasts.
It was such a sensual shock the breath went out of him.
It was all the more erotic because he knew he was the only one who could see it, and because she didn't know that he could, and because they were both in the midst of a crowd.
He was a man. He gulped down the view for the duration of its offering, which was cruelly brief. And then Genevieve was upright again, and regret washed him.
Miss Oversham didn't seem to notice his infinitesimal distraction.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“And each and every compliment issued by the duke had been just singular enough to kindle her imagination. Calculated to intrigue, to imply that he saw her in detail, that touching her was a pleasure.
'Unconscionably,' he'd said. As though being soft was something she did specifically to torment him. It had almost been an accusation, a dare. She'd received more than her share of compliments her life. But for some reason the duke made her feel very much like a...
Like a 'woman.'
Purely and simply.
It had nothing to do with love. Or with marriage. He was thinking of her in terms of... of sensual pleasure.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“And then two footmen staggered forward.
They were bearing between them a flower arrangement so brilliant it was nearly 'sentient.' A profusion of roses, the heads of which were nearly as pulsatingly crimson and large as actual hearts sprung from a luxurious froth of ferny greenery and minuscule lacy white flowers. It was magnificently intimidating and almost indecently sensual.
The whole thing was the height of a three-year-old child.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke

“It's a new direction for you, though, isn't it? Menacing waterfowl?"
"I think I prefer the kittens," Harry said. He'd been silent until then.
"You dislike moody animals, even if they're beautiful, Harry?" Genevieve teased.
"I dislike believing things are one way when they're really another way entirely."
And if that wasn't an innuendo, Genevieve didn't know what one was.
She just didn't know if he was referring to his own heart, or to 'her', in general.
But that could very well be her conscience interpreting it.
She sighed. She felt a certain kinship with that swan. Everyone thought Genevieve Eversea was serenity and purity itself. When she really was capable of... alarmingly original behavior.”
― Julie Anne Long, What I Did for a Duke