At Your Pleasure

I deserve better —such a dangerous, mad thought for a woman to entertain.

For a woman's words to wound would require a man to listen first!

I admit, that the brain does not govern the body as well as one might wish- else all men would be saints and hell would be empty of lechers.

Lord John: 'The court has suffered most sorely for your absence. We hardly know where to find our amusement now.' Lady Nora: 'I am sorry to hear that, I suppose it takes some wit to produce one's own entertainment. Are you often bored?

This current between them had once seemed born of a perfect match between souls. That it had survived so many years’ separation might indicate that it was inborn: the product of the stars’ configuration at their respective births

For what is love but a great rebellion against caution and sense?

Force persuades a person to speak, but it cannot guarantee his honesty. Quite the reverse: it will extract confessions from innocents and lies from simple sinners...

Surely this is what death would be like: nothingness, oblivion, as the world continued to turn, heedless of her absence.

Was not love a terrible thing? One thought one had learned to manage it, and then it sprang free again, rattling its claws in one's liver.

He was a man of few personal possessions, and until this moment, he had never considered what they might say of him. But to see her close examination of them . . . suddenly he realized that each held a story that he might wish to share with her; and that in sharing these stories with her, these objects would finally realize their value

The desire that moved him to it was not simply concerned with satisfaction. This hunger in him wanted to break her open so completely that she would never recover her reserve; that she would forget, for eternity, that once her body had been aught else but his. It was not an innocent craving. It was too near to violence for him to trust

I am as much a villain in my nature as a common thief on the high road,” he said. “Did you not know it?” His words framed a confession but he spoke it shamelessly. He did not sound sorry at all. “Here is what makes me a criminal, Nora. Righteous men conceive of an end and pray for righteous means to obtain it. But criminals do not look to prayer for their hopes. They place no faith in chance. When they see an end, they risk everything to obtain it—no matter whether it is theirs to risk or no

Some women would never know a touch like this. They would never know what they deserved. But she knew

the kiss he gave her when he pulled her head down was slow and deep, a leisurely address that reached into her like the whisper of music

Perhaps he was never himself but with her. Or rather, with her, he was more than himself

Men made games of religion, did they not? They made God into a reason for warfare. Who was to say that He was anything more than an excuse, an invention, a convenient cause? Adrian had never felt Him save in His absence. Nothingness, then: no punishment for sin but death; no reward for virtue but the grave. Yet, even if there was a master in heaven, it would make no difference to his course. He would accept damnation as his due in exchange for an earthly life in which he and his were no one’s slaves

... only dogs and cowards licked the boot that kicked them.

Your loyalty is not to me. Well do I know it, Nora ... You alone,' he whispered, 'among every creature in my knowledge, will never let go of what is yours, no matter how it pains you. And so I know I cannot ask for your glad cooperation ... I cannot demand your submission. I can only hold you, and pray I keep you safe, and spare you, by force if need be, from the consequences of what I admire in you most.' [...] To yield to his view of her was to accept that he tried to rule her from charitable and loving impulses. But she could not grant such motives to him without also accepting his rule.

He could not admire her destructive loyalty to her brother. But it was born of the steel at her core. As a girl, she had not disguised that steel, speaking boldly, daring the world to cross her. But now that she carried it concealed, it took on a new element of power, like the hidden stiletto that could save a man’s life when all else was stripped from him. Adrian had never glimpsed such ferocity of will in another woman—or man, for that matter

My God, Leonora.” “I do not think He concerns Himself overmuch with such matters. He saves His attentions for judging us in the hereafter. In this world, we must fend for ourselves

He had achieved indifference to her in London. Why not here, too? But here was where he had loved her.

You said we must coexist peaceably,' he continued. 'I agree. Instruct me how.' 'That was a lie,' she said, her voice choked. 'I meant to trick you to my table. You know this!' 'Truths sometimes appear in unbidden forms.

And here is *your* test of courage, Lord Rivenham: did memories of me ever trouble your sleep, or did the painted ladies of the court keep you sufficiently occupied?' The barbed question did not seem to register the proper sting. 'You are of two minds,' he replied easily. 'You desire me to say I never thought of you, so you may sleep tonight without the aid of medicine, safe in the throes of your anger. But you also know that the ghost of you followed me to my bed every night - and now that I've admitted it, you will wish you'd never asked. She threw his hand away from her. His honesty felt like a betrayal.

Rather stupid creatures, aren't they?' he said to draw her eyes back to this. 'No. I find them quite - admirable, in fact.' 'How so?' She gave him a frown, as though doubting the sincerity of his interest. The hesitance was new to her, and it grated him, for it suggested an unpleasant history - one in which her youthful confidence had been eroded, gradually, by men who took no interest in her thoughts. 'Go on,' he said. 'Do you mean to follow Mandeville, and argue that bees show how self-interest and vice might profit the world?' She laughed. 'Oh, no. I was thinking far less philosophically. Besides, Mandeville wrongs the poor bees in his verse. They are quite Christian in their industry, don't you think? Unceasing in their duties. And yet - one cannot say their docility signifies stupidity, or any dullness of sentiment. When one of their own is threatened, they rouse in unison to defend him. Even the lowliest drone might count on his brethren's support, and I think - I think there is great virtue, great comfort, in such brotherhood.' [...] 'You are no drone, Nora. And unthinking loyalty is no virtue by my account.' Her mouth flattened. She locked eyes with him for a hard second. 'Do not imagine my loyalty is unthinking.

Perhaps Nora was right: God watched but did not concern Himself with this kingdom. In His son He had exhausted His interest in suffering. Now He waited indifferently until Judgment Day.

The flesh was weak, but it was not dumb. It had its own animal intelligence. In her husband's bed her body had felt like dead clay, but it had come back to life this morning in the apple grove. How had she forgotten such pleasure? It invigorated the senses and enlarged the lungs. Riding through the meadow, the air had tasted richer and the brush of his worsted jacket against her bare wrist had riveted her whole awareness. Even her silent, inward turmoil had felt bittersweet to her.