Ela

“I distinctly saw a tremor of laughter shake him, but he said: “Then I feel no scruple in adding that if you refuse my dinner invitation again, you’ll be carried down, nightdress or no.”
I gave a tiny sigh. “May I ask why?”
“It’s . . . necessary,” he said, after a brief pause. “I’m sorry to insist, but I do insist.”
“Very well,” I said consideringly. “I have a stipulation, however.”
“Which is?”
“You dine with me unmasked.”
There was a short silence, then Lord Pecus took in a slow breath. “Do you know what you’re asking?”
I levelled a steady gaze at him. “I believe so. I may add that I think it only fair in the light of what you are asking, my lord.”
He gave the low, rumbling chuckle that I liked. “I think we will get along very well, Lady Isabella.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“Of course he burst through the door. It cracked against the massive slabs that formed the stone walls, sending splinters flying, and I didn’t have to try very hard for the startled jump as Lord Pecus strode into the room.
I gave a maidenly shriek, and in a moment of truly inspired acting, snatched my dressing gown from the bed to my chest and assumed pose #35, Maidenly Horror. Hands clasped below the breasts and clutching my dressing gown as if to protect girlish modesty, eyes wide- maybe finishing school had been useful for something after all. I thought I might have gone too far, but Lord Pecus, who at my shriek had stopped two strides into the room with a look of horror on his mask, hastily turned his face to the wall. He tried to utter a disjointed apology but I threw one of the pot-pourri bowls at him, and it smashed satisfyingly on the wall, cutting off the attempt.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“Lord Pecus looked speculative. “Would you marry me as I am?”
“Oh yes!” I said encouragingly. “Do go on.”
“Will you marry me, Isabella?”
I shook my head.
“No, my lord.” He looked quizzical, though not discouraged, so I explained. “You’re asking the wrong question again.”
He took a meditative sip of port. “Do you know how to break the curse?”
“I believe so. There, you see how much easier things are when you ask the right questions!”
“I suppose it would be too much to ask of you to tell me how to do so?”
“That’s another of the things I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you,” I said regretfully. “I’m terribly sorry, Alexander; but I’m afraid you’re going to have to work it out on your own.”
― W.R. Gingell, Masque

“This is a colonization, Das. That woman is colonizing my house. Do you know what that means?” “Years of bloodshed, oppression, and exploitation, perhaps?”
― Mia Vincy, A Wicked Kind of Husband