Shefali S

“It’s about to rain forks and knives,” Winterborne reported, water drops glittering on his hair and the shoulders of his coat. He reached for a glass of champagne from a silver tray on the table, and raised it in Tom’s direction. “Good luck it is, for the wedding day.”
“Why is that, exactly?” Tom asked, disgruntled.
“A wet knot is harder to untie,” Winterborne said. “The marriage bond will be tight and long lasting.”
Ethan Ransom volunteered, “Mam always said rain on a wedding day washed away the sadness of the past.”
“Not only are superstitions irrational,” Tom said, “they’re inconvenient. If you believe in one, you have to believe them all, which necessitates a thousand pointless rituals.”
Not being allowed to see the bride before the ceremony, for example. He hadn’t had so much as a glimpse of Cassandra that morning, and he was chafing to find out how she was feeling, if she’d slept well, if there was something she needed.
West came into the room with his arms full of folded umbrellas. Justin, dressed in a little velveteen suit, was at his heels.
“Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs in the nursery with your little brother?” St. Vincent asked his five-year-old nephew.
“Dad needed my help,” Justin said self-importantly, bringing an umbrella to him.
“We’re about to have a soaker,” West said briskly. “We’ll have to take everyone out to the chapel as soon as possible, before the ground turns to mud. Don’t open one of these indoors: It’s bad luck.”
“I didn’t think you were superstitious,” Tom protested. “You believe in science.”
West grinned at him. “I’m a farmer, Severin. When it comes to superstitions, farmers lead the pack. Incidentally, the locals say rain on the wedding day means fertility.”
Devon commented dryly, “To a Hampshireman, nearly everything is a sign of fertility. It’s a preoccupation around here.”
“What’s fertility?” Justin asked.
In the sudden silence, all gazes went to West, who asked defensively, “Why is everyone looking at me?”
“As Justin’s new father,” St. Vincent replied, making no effort to hide his enjoyment, “that question is in your province.”
West looked down into Justin’s expectant face. “Let’s ask your mother later,” he suggested.
The child looked mildly concerned. “Don’t you know, Dad?”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“Cassandra gave him a reproachful glance. “I thought you liked Mr. Severin.”
“I do, absolutely. He occupies a high place on the list of things I don’t respect myself for liking, right between street food and filthy drinking songs.”
Cassandra was aware that it had always been West’s habit—as well as Devon’s and Winterborne’s—to make sarcastic remarks about Tom Severin, in the way of longstanding friends. But it rankled now in a way it never had before. “After all Mr. Severin has done for our family,” she said quietly, “he deserves more respect than that.”
They were all silent, darting surprised glances at her. Until that moment, Cassandra had never dared to utter one word of reproof to him.
To West’s credit, he considered the point, and relented. “You’re right,” he said in a different tone. “I beg your pardon for being a facetious arse. But I know both of you well enough to be certain you don’t belong together.”
Cassandra met his gaze without blinking. “Is it possible that Mr. Severin and I might know each other in a different way than you know either of us?”
“Touché. Is it possible that you might think you know him far less than you actually do?”
“Touché,” Cassandra replied reluctantly.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“More than once, I've seen you talk yourself into the wrong decision by thinking too much. But if you could manage to climb out of that labyrinth of a brain long enough to discover what you want... not what you decide you should want, but what your instinct tells you... you might find what your soul is calling for."
"I don't have a soul. There's no such thing."
Looking exasperated and amused, Winterborne asked, "Then what keeps your brain working and your heart beating?"
"Electrical impulses. An Italian scientist by the name of Galvani proved it a hundred years ago, with a frog."
Firmly, Winterborne said, "I can't speak for the frog, but you have a soul. And I'd say it's high time you paid attention to it.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra

“I'm asking you to tell Lady Cassandra about my good qualities as well as the bad ones."
"What good qualities?" West inquired sharply.
Tom had to think for a moment. "How rich I am?”
― Lisa Kleypas, Chasing Cassandra