Ah

“Sir Richard sighed. "Rid yourself of the notion that I cherish any villainous designs upon your person," he said. "I imagine I might well be your father. How old are you?"

"I am turned seventeen."

"Well, I am nearly thirty," said Sir Richard.

Miss Creed worked this out. "You couldn't possibly be my father!"

"I am far too drunk to solve arithmetical problems. Let it suffice that I have not the slightest intention of making love to you.”
― Georgette Heyer, The Corinthian

“The Viscount stepped into the room. "Came to see if you was dead," he said. "Laid Pom odds you weren't."
Lethbridge passed his hand across his eyes. "I'm not," he replied in a faint voice.
"No. I'm sorry," said the Viscount simply. He wandered over to the table and sat down. "Horry said she killed you, Pom said So she might, I said No. Nonsense."
Lethbridge still holding a hand to his aching head tried to pull himself together. "Did you?" he said. His eyes ran over his self invited guest. "I see. Let me assure you once more that I am very much alive."
"Well I wish you'd put your wig on," complained the Viscount. "What I want to know is why did Horry hit you on the head with a poker?"
Lethbridge gingerly felt his bruised scalp. "With a poker was it? Pray ask her, though I doubt if she will tell you."
"You shouldn't keep the front door open," said the Viscount. "What's to stop people coming in and hitting you over the head? It's preposterous."
"I wish you'd go home," said Lethbridge wearily.
The Viscount surveyed the supper-table with a knowing eye.
"Card-party?" he inquired.”
― Georgette Heyer, The Convenient Marriage

“Do you mean to tell me that Mr. Trevor read my letter?” demanded Lady Buxted indignantly. “Your secretary?”
“I employ him to read my letters,” explained his lordship.(Alverstroke)
“Not those written by your nearest and dearest!”
“Oh, no, not them!” he agreed.”
― Georgette Heyer, Frederica

“You know what I think? Fate! That's what it is fate! There's a thing that comes after a fellow:got a name,but I forgot what it is. Creeps up behind him, and puts him in the basket when he ain't expecting it.”
― Georgette Heyer, Friday's Child