Phoebe Clare Quotes

“You have a backbone of steel. You went through months of hell looking after a small child, a dying husband and an entire household, with unholy patience. You missed meals and went without sleep, but you never forgot to read Justin a bedtime story and tuck him in at night. When you let yourself cry and fall apart, it was only in private, for a few minutes, and then you washed your face, put your broken heart back together, and went out with a cheerful expression and a half-dozen handkerchiefs in your pockets. And you did all of it while feeling queasy most of the time because you were expecting another child. You never failed the people who needed you. You're not going to fail them now."
Shocked down to her soul, Phoebe could only manage a whisper. "Who told you all that?"
"No one." The smile at the corners of his eyes deepened. "Phoebe... anyone who knows you, even a little, would know these things about you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Discovering a note in the mending basket, Phoebe plucked it out and unfolded it. She instantly recognized West's handwriting.

Unemployed Feline Seeking Household Position


To Whom It May Concern,
I hereby offer my services as an experienced mouser and personal companion. References from a reputable family to be provided upon request. Willing to accept room and board in lieu of pay. Indoor lodgings preferred.

Your servant,
Galoshes the Cat

Glancing up from the note, Phoebe found her parents' questioning gazes on her. "Job application," she explained sourly. "From the cat."
"How charming," Seraphina exclaimed, reading over her shoulder.
"'Personal companion,' my foot," Phoebe muttered. "This is a semi-feral animal who has lived in outbuildings and fed on vermin."
"I wonder," Seraphina said thoughtfully. "If she were truly feral, she wouldn't want any contact with humans. With time and patience, she might become domesticated."
Phoebe rolled her eyes. "It seems we'll find out."
The boys returned from the dining car with a bowl of water and a tray of refreshments. Galoshes descended to the floor long enough to devour a boiled egg, an anchovy canapé, and a spoonful of black caviar from a silver dish on ice. Licking her lips and purring, the cat jumped back into Phoebe's lap and curled up with a sigh.
"I'd say she's adjusting quite well," Seraphina commented with a grin, and elbowed Phoebe gently. "One never knows who might rise above their disreputable past.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“After a brief murmured exchange, the lady's maid opened the door a bit wider, and Phoebe's brother Ivo stuck his head inside.
"Hullo, sis," he said casually. "You look very nice in that gold dress."
"It's ecru." At his perplexed look, she repeated, "Ecru."
"God bless you," Ivo said, and gave her a cheeky grin as he entered the room.
Phoebe lifted her gaze heavenward. "Why are you here, Ivo?"
"I'm going to escort you downstairs, so you don't have to go alone."
Phoebe was so moved, she couldn't speak. She could only stare at the eleven-year-old boy, who was volunteering to take the place her husband would have assumed.
"It was Father's idea," Ivo continued, a touch bashfully. "I'm sorry I'm not as tall as the other ladies' escorts, or even as tall as you. I'm really only half an escort. But that's still better than nothing, isn't it?" His expression turned uncertain as he saw that her eyes were watering.
After clearing her throat, Phoebe managed an unsteady reply. "At this moment, my gallant Ivo, you tower above every other gentleman here. I'm so very honored."
He grinned and offered his arm in a gesture she had seen him practice in the past with their father. "The honor is mine, sis."
In that moment, Phoebe had the briefest intimation of what Ivo would be like as a full-grown man, confident and irresistibly charming.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“He seemed every bit as riled and menacing as the bull had a few minutes ago. But Phoebe wasn't about to let him make his injury worse out of pure male stubbornness.
"Forgive me if I'm being tyrannical," she said in her most soothing tone. "I tend to do that when I'm concerned about someone. It's your decision, naturally. But I wish you would indulge me in this, if only to spare me from worrying over you every step of the way home."
The mulish set of his jaw eased. "I manage other people," he informed her. "People don't manage me."
"I'm not managing you."
"You're trying," he said darkly.
An irrepressible grin spread across her face. "Is it working?"
Slowly Mr. Ravenel's head lifted. He didn't reply, only gave her a strange, long look that spurred her heartbeat until she was light-headed from the force of its pounding. No man had ever stared at her like this. Not even her husband, for whom she'd always been close and attainable, her presence woven securely into the fabric of his days. Since childhood, she'd always been Henry's safe harbor.
But whatever it was this man wanted from her, it wasn't safety.
"You should humor my daughter's wishes, Ravenel," Sebastian advised from behind her. "The last time I tried to refuse her something, she launched into a screaming fit that lasted at least an hour."
The comment broke the trance. "Father," Phoebe protested with a laugh, twisting to glance at him over her shoulder. "I was two years old!"
"It made a lasting impression.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“As he lifted his head, he saw a painting on the wall, in a carved and gilded frame. It was a luminous portrait of the Duchess with her children when they were still young. The group was arranged on the settee, with Ivo, still an infant, on his mother's lap. Gabriel, Raphael, and Seraphina were seated on either side of her, while Phoebe leaned over the back of the settee. Her face was close to her mother's, her expression tender and slightly mischievous, as if she were about to tell her a secret or make her laugh.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Somewhere out there, the perfect man you deserve is probably searching for you."
Phoebe laughed against his mouth. "Let's hurry, then- we can be married before he gets here.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“West had always congratulated himself on being too clever to desire a woman he couldn't have. But Phoebe was as rare as a year with two blue moons. All through dinner, he'd marveled at how beautiful she was, the candlelight striking gleams from her hair and skin like rubies and pearls. She was clever, perceptive, quick as a whip. There had been hints of an absolutely lacerating wit, which he loved, but there were also touches of shyness and melancholy that went straight to his heart. She was a woman who badly needed to enjoy herself, and he wanted to indulge her in some thoroughly adult fun.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I've been thinking," he said huskily.
A tremulous smile curved her lips. "About what?"
"Trust. When I told you I couldn't count on someone loving me..."
"Yes, I remember."
"I realized that before I can have trust... actually feel it... I'll have to start doing it. Trusting blindly. I'll have to learn how. It's... difficult."
Her beautiful eyes shimmered. "I know, darling," she whispered.
"But if I'm ever going to try it with anyone, it has to be you."
Phoebe inched closer to him. Her eyes were so bright, they were like bottled lightning. "I've been thinking, too."
"About?"
"About surprises. You see, there was no way of knowing how much time Henry and I would have together before his decline started. As it turned out, it was even less time than we'd expected. But it was worth it. I would do it again. I wasn't afraid of his illness, and I'm not afraid of your past, or whatever might leap out at us. That's the chance everyone takes, isn't it? The only ironclad guarantee is that we'll love each other." Her voice thickened with emotion. "And I do, West. I love you so very much.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“People always tend to idealize the departed. But I want the boys to understand their father was a wonderful, mortal man with flaws, not an unapproachable saint. Otherwise, they'll never really know him."
"What flaws?" West asked gently.
Her lips pursed as she considered the question thoughtfully. "He was often elusive. In the world, but not of it. Part of that was because of his illness, but he also didn't like unpleasantness. He avoided anything that was ugly or upsetting." She turned to face him. "Henry was so determined to think of me as perfect that it devastated him when I was petty or cross or careless. I wouldn't want-" Phoebe paused.
"What?" West prompted after a long moment.
"I wouldn't want to live with such expectations again. I'd rather not be worshipped, but accepted for all that I am, good and bad.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Phoebe knew West couldn't see beyond his own fears of being unworthy, of someday causing her unhappiness. But this high degree of concern was precisely what inclined her to trust him. One thing was clear: if she wanted him, she would have to be the pursuer.
West lounged on the floor between her two sons, a heavy forelock of dark hair falling over his forehead. "What does a chicken say?" he asked Stephen, holding up a wooden figure.
The toddler took it from him and answered, "Rowwr!"
West blinked in surprise and began to chuckle along with Justin. "By God, that is a fierce chicken."
Delighted by his effect on West, Stephen held up the chicken. "Rowwr," he growled again, and this time West and Justin collapsed in laughter. Quickly West reached out to the toddler's blond head, pulled him closer and crushed a brief kiss among the soft curls.
Had there been any doubts lingering in Phoebe's mind, they were demolished in that moment.
Oh, yes... I want this man.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Phoebe was relieved to discover she would be accompanied by Westcliff's oldest son, Lord Foxhall, whom she had known her entire life. He was a big, boldly handsome man in his twenties, an avid sportsman like his father. As the earl's heir, he had been accorded a viscountcy, but he and Phoebe were far too familiar to stand on ceremony.
"Fox," she exclaimed, a wide smile crossing her face.
"Cousin Phoebe." He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his dark eyes snapping with lively humor. "It seems I'm your escort. Bad luck for you."
"To me it's good luck- how could it be otherwise?"
"With all the eligible men present, you should be with one who doesn't remember you as a little girl in pigtails, sliding down one of the banisters at Stony Cross Manor.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“As it turned out, the purée of spring vegetables exceeded Mr. Ravenel's description. The soft reddish-orange emulsion really did taste like a garden. It was a bold, creamy harmony of astringent tomato, sweet carrots, potatoes, and greens, bound together in a lively snap of springtime. As Phoebe bit into a half-crisp, half-sodden crouton, she closed her eyes to savor it. God, it had been so long since she'd really tasted anything.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Each course was more delectable than the last. Phoebe would have thought nothing could have surpassed the efforts of the French cook at Heron's Point, but this was some of the most delicious fare she'd ever had. Her bread plate was frequently replenished with piping-hot milk rolls and doughy slivers of stottie cake, served with thick curls of salted butter. The footmen brought out perfectly broiled game hens, the skin crisp and delicately heat-blistered... fried veal cutlets puddled in cognac sauce... slices of vegetable terrine studded with tiny boiled quail eggs. Brilliantly colorful salads were topped with dried flakes of smoked ham or paper-thin slices of pungent black truffle. Roasted joints of beef and lamb were presented and carved beside the table, the tender meat sliced thinly and served with drippings thickened into gravy.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“What I'd like more than anything," he said quietly, "is for you to listen to an apology."
"You have nothing to apologize for."
"I'm afraid I do." He let out a measured breath. "But first, I have something to give you."
He went to a cabinet in a corner of the room and rummaged through its contents. Finding the object he sought... a small book... he brought it to her.
Phoebe blinked in wonder as she read the gold and black lettering on the battered cloth cover. The title was worn and faded, but still legible.

Stephen Armstrong: Treasure Hunter

Opening the book with unsteady fingers, she found the words written on the inside cover in her own childish hand, long ago.

Dear Henry, whenever you feel alone, look for the kisses I left for you on my favorite pages.

Blinded by a hot, stinging blur, Phoebe closed the book. Even without looking, she knew there were tiny x's in the margins of several chapters.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“My father was usually too far in the drink to remember he had children. My mother was half mad and had fewer morals than the barn cat we brought back today. Since none of our relations wanted custody of a pair of impoverished brats, Devon and I were sent to boarding school. We stayed there most holidays. I became a bully. I hated everyone. Henry was especially irritating- skinny, odd, fussy about his food. Always reading. I stole that book from the box under his bed because it seemed to be his favorite."
Pausing uncomfortably, Mr. Ravenel raked a hand through his disordered hair, and it promptly fell back into the same gleaming, untidy layers. "I didn't plan to keep it. I was going to embarrass him by reading parts of it aloud in front of him. And when I saw what you'd written on the inside cover, I could hardly wait to torture him about it. But then I read the first page."
"In which Stephen Armstrong is sinking in a pit of quicksand," Phoebe said with a tremulous smile.
"Exactly. I had to find out what happened next."
"After escaping the quicksand, he has to save his true love, Catriona, from the crocodiles."
A husky sound of amusement. "You marked x's all over those pages."
"I secretly longed for a hero to rescue me from crocodiles someday."
"I secretly longed to be a hero. Despite having far more in common with the crocodiles.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Once as a child, Phoebe had been caught outside in a summer storm, and had seen a butterfly knocked from the air by raindrops. It had fluttered and fallen to the ground, bombarded from every direction. The only choice had been to fold its wings, take shelter and wait.
This man was the storm and the shelter, pulling her into a deep, encompassing darkness where there was too much to feel- hot soft firm sweet hungry rough silken tugging. She strained helplessly in his arms, although she didn't know whether she was trying to escape or press closer.
She had craved this, the hardness and heat of his body against hers, the sensation familiar and yet not at all familiar.
She had feared this, a man with a will and power that matched her own, a man who would desire and possess every last part of her without mercy.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I can't help but question how my spirited daughter could fix her choice, once again, on a tepid Larson male. Is your blood really so thin that it calls for such milk-warm companionship?"
Phoebe stopped in her tracks, while outrage raced through her like wildfire. "Henry was not tepid!"
"No," her father allowed, stopping to face her. "Henry did have one passion, and that was you. It's why I eventually consented to the marriage, despite knowing the burden you would have to shoulder. Edward Larson, however, has yet to evince any such depth of feeling."
"Well, he wouldn't in front of you," she said hotly. "He's private. And it was never a burden to take care of Henry."
"Darling child," he said softly, "the burden is what you're facing now.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“You needn't instruct me to think about my children's welfare," Phoebe said quietly. "I've always put them first, and always will. As for me being a child... I'm afraid I'm not nearly enough like one." A faint smile touched her lips. "Children are optimistic. They have a natural sense of adventure. To them, the world has no limitations, only possibilities. Henry was always a bit childlike in that way- he never became disenchanted with life. That was what I loved most about him."
"If you loved Henry, you will honor his wishes. He wanted Edward to have charge of his family and estate."
"Henry wanted to make sure our future would be in capable hands. But it already is."
"Yes. Edward's."
"No, mine. I'll learn everything I need to know about managing this estate. I'll hire people to help me if necessary. I'll have this place thriving. I don't need a husband to do it for me. If I marry again, it will be to a man of my choosing, in my own time. I can't promise it will be Edward. I've changed during the past two years, but so far, he doesn't see me for who I am, only who I was. For that matter, he doesn't see how the world has changed- he ignores the realities he doesn't like. How can I trust him with our future?"
Georgiana regarded her bitterly. "Edward is not the one who is ignoring reality. How can you imagine yourself capable of running this estate?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Women aren't capable of leadership. Our intelligence is no less than men's, but it is shaped for the purpose of motherhood. We're clever enough to operate the sewing machine, but not to have invented it. If you asked the opinions of a thousand people whether they would trust you or Edward to make decisions for the estate, whom do you think they would choose?"
"I'm not going to ask a thousand people for their opinions," Phoebe said evenly. "Only one opinion is required, and it happens to be mine." She went to the doorway and paused, unable to resist adding, "That's leadership."
And she left the dowager fuming in silence.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“In a few minutes, West had pinned Phoebe against a corner wall of the winter garden, in a sheltered space of stone and feathery leaves. He possessed her with passion-roughened kisses, almost eating at her mouth, greedily drawing in the honeysuckle taste of her. Her skin was milk-white with golden flecks, smoothness quivering at the stroke of his tongue.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Family is everything to him. When he was a young boy, he lost his mother and four sisters to scarlet fever, and was sent away to boarding school. He grew up very much alone. So he would do anything to protect or help the people he cares about."
She hefted the album into Keir's lap, and watched as he began to leaf through it dutifully.
Keir's gaze fell to a photograph of the Challons relaxing on the beach. There was Phoebe at a young age, sprawling in the lap of a slender, laughing mother with curly hair. Two blond boys sat beside her, holding small shovels with the ruins of a sandcastle between them. A grinning fair-haired toddler was sitting squarely on top of the sandcastle, having just squashed it. They'd all dressed up in matching bathing costumes, like a crew of little sailors.
Coming to perch on the arm of the chair, Phoebe reached down to turn the pages and point out photographs of her siblings at various stages of their childhood. Gabriel, the responsible oldest son... followed by Raphael, carefree and rebellious... Seraphina, the sweet and imaginative younger sister... and the baby of the family, Ivo, a red-haired boy who'd come as a surprise after the duchess had assumed childbearing years were past her.
Phoebe paused at a tintype likeness of the duke and duchess seated together. Below it, the words "Lord and Lady St. Vincent" had been written. "This was taken before my father inherited the dukedom," she said.
Kingston- Lord St. Vincent back then- sat with an arm draped along the back of the sofa, his face turned toward his wife. She was a lovely woman, with an endearing spray of freckles across her face and a smile as vulnerable as the heartbeat in an exposed wrist.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“Tell me about your children," he said.
"What would you like to know?"
"Anything. How did you decide on their names?"
"Justin was named after my husband's favorite uncle- a dear old bachelor who always brought him books when he was ill. My younger son, Stephen, was named after a character in an adventure novel Lord Clare and I read when we were children."
"What was the title?"
"I can't tell you; you'll think it's silly. It is silly. But we both loved it. We read it dozens of times. I had to send Henry my copy, after-"
After you stole his.
In Henry's view, the worst of West Ravenel's offenses had been stealing his copy of Stephen Armstrong: Treasure Hunter from a box of possessions beneath his bed at school. Although there had never been proof of the thief's identity, Henry had remembered that Ravenel had previously mocked him when he'd seen him reading it. "I know he's the one," Henry had written. "He's probably done something awful with it. Dropped it down the privy. I'd be surprised if the nincompoop can even read."
"Someday when we're big," Phoebe had written in response, full of righteous vengeance, "we'll go thrash him together and take it back from him."
But now she was sitting next to him at dinner.
"-after he lost his copy," she finished awkwardly.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I see there's a choice for the fish course: turbot with lobster sauce, or sole à la Normandie." She paused. "I'm not familiar with the latter."
Mr. Ravenel answered readily, "White sole filets marinated in cider, sautéed in butter, and covered with crème fraîche. It's light, with a tang of apples."
It had been a long time since Phoebe had thought of a meal as anything other than a perfunctory ritual. She had not only lost her appetite after Henry died, she'd also lost her sense of taste. Only a few things still had flavor. Strong tea, lemon, cinnamon.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“Too often in the past, I made a public spectacle of myself on the worst possible occasions, in front of the worst possible people. I was an absolute swine. Brawling at parties. Pissing in fountains and vomiting in potted plants. I've slept with other men's wives, I've ruined marriages. It takes years of dedicated effort to discredit one's own name as thoroughly as I did, but by God, I set the bar. There will always be rumors and ugly gossip, and I can't contradict most of it because I was always too drunk to know whether it happened or not. Someday your sons will hear some of it, and any affection they feel for me will turn to ashes. I won't let my shame become their shame."
Phoebe knew if she tried to argue with him point by point, it would only lead to frustration on her part and wallowing on his. She certainly couldn't deny that upper-class society was monstrously judgmental. Some people would perch ostentatiously on their moral pedestals, loudly accusing West while ignoring their own sins. Some people might overlook his blemished reputation if there was any advantage to them in doing so. None of that could be changed. But she would teach Justin and Stephen not to be influenced by hypocritical braying. Kindness and humanity- the values her mother had imparted- would guide them.
"Trust us," she said quietly. "Trust me and my sons to love you.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“I thought Lady Helen was going to introduce you to the lady doctor who treated Pandora's shoulder."
"Dr. Gibson? Yes, she's a marvelous woman. As a matter of fact, she came to visit Eversby Priory this summer."
All Phoebe's pleasant feelings abruptly turned disagreeable. "Surely not without a chaperone."
"Garrett Gibson doesn't bother with chaperones," West replied, his lips twitching as if at some private memory. "The usual rules don't apply to her. She brought a patient, Mr. Ethan Ransom, who was injured and needed to recuperate in peace and quiet."
Poisonous jealousy flooded Phoebe. The female doctor was an accomplished and unconventional woman- exactly the kind who would attract his interest. "You must have found her fascinating."
"Anyone would.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil's Daughter

“The long, involved conversation he'd had with Merritt after breakfast had been full of revelations about the duke's long-ago affair with Cordelia, Lady Ormande, and its consequences- one of which was very likely Keir himself. Which meant the red-haired woman at the threshold could very well be his half sister, and the wailing imp in her arms his niece.
Having been raised by elderly parents, Keir had never expected a sibling. His rowdy pack of friends were his brothers, and the men at the distillery were his extended family. It was strange to think of having a sister. It shocked him, in fact, to realize that for the first time in his life, here was someone... a woman... with whom he might have a blood tie. And not just any woman, but an aristocratic lady. There was nothing for them to talk about, no experiences they had in common.
But as he stared at Lady Phoebe, she seemed like any ordinary young mother on Islay, who hadn't had quite enough sleep and couldn't always tell what her baby wanted. There was a smart, bright look about her- canty, a Scot would say, a word that suggested the dancing flicker of a candle flame.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“Phoebe!"
Lady Phoebe Ravenel turned and came to her with a laugh of delight.
They had known each other their entire lives, growing up together, sharing secrets, joys, and sorrows. Phoebe was strikingly beautiful, as tall and willowy as Merritt was short and solid. Like Merritt, she had been widowed a few years ago, although in Phoebe's case, the loss had not been unexpected. Her first husband, Henry, had suffered from a prolonged wasting disease, and had passed away before the birth of their second son. Then West Ravenel had come into Phoebe's life, and they had married after a courtship so brief, it hardly even qualified as whirlwind.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“I meant to come sooner, but it's been madness at the estate. We're going into harvest, and I've been busy with the baby-"
"Where is she?" Merritt asked eagerly. She hadn't yet seen Phoebe's daughter, Eden, who had been born six months earlier. "You've brought her, I hope."
"Had to," Phoebe replied wryly, gesturing to her button-front bodice, strained by the full bosom of a nursing mother.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“He came to my office in wet clothes, all muscles and smolder. I hardly knew where to look."
"I think you knew exactly where to look," Phoebe said, her light gray eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is he handsome?”
“A stunner. Tall and big-chested, with blue eyes and hair the color of summer wheat. And his accent . . .”
“Irresistible?”
“Oh, yes. There’s something about a Scottish burr that makes it seem as if a man is either about to recite poetry or toss you over his shoulder and carry you away.”
“Maybe both at the same time,” Phoebe said dreamily, sipping her tea.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“He's not fond of town, to put it mildly. He's not impressed by luxury or appearances. He loves his simple life on the island, and doing things out in nature."
"And you dislike nature," Phoebe said sympathetically.
"'Dislike' is too strong a word. Nature and I have an understanding- we try not to interfere with each other. It's a peaceful coexistence."
Phoebe looked skeptical. "Dear, no matter how attractive this man is, I can't envision you existing happily on a remote Scottish island."
"It's possible," Merritt argued. "I'm a woman of many facets."
"You don't have a single facet that wants to live in a hut."
"I didn't say he lived in a hut!"
"Five pounds says it has a stone floor and no indoor plumbing."
"I never take bets," Merritt said loftily.
"Which means you think I'm right.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“Keir's attention, however, was fixed not on Kingston, but on the frozen figure by the doorway. "Who's that?" he demanded.
Merritt followed his gaze to Phoebe, whose face was carefully blank. What a shock it must be for her, to be confronted with a man who looked so eerily similar- almost identical- to her father as a young man. "Dear," she said apologetically to Phoebe, "about that story I was telling you... there was a part I hadn't yet reached."
Her friend replied slowly, staring at the duke. "I think perhaps my father should explain it to me."
"I will," Kingston said, giving his daughter a reassuring smile. "Come with me." He ushered her from the room, saying, "We'll leave Merritt with her fiancé."
"What?" came Phoebe's bewildered voice, just before he closed the door.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise