London's Perfect Scoundrel

I told you I didn't have a heart. I do have one. I just didn't know it until I met you. You are my light. My soul craves you, and I love you with every ounce of the heart you've awakened in me. I...I could live without you but I wouldn't want to. Will you marry me, Evelyn Marie?

Did you hear that?” the duke asked with a wide grin, turning to Dare. “She said 'papa.'“ The viscount returned the candy dish and tea tray to the relocated end table. “I distinctly heard 'baboon.'“ “Hm, well, you're distinctly deaf.

For a long moment the butler sat in silence, his jaw hanging open. “I . . . my lord, I simply don't feel qualified to advise you about such matters.” “Don't tell me that,” Saint protested. “Tell me whether you can imagine me as a married man or not.” To his surprise, the butler set aside his brandy snifter and sat forward. “My lord, I do not wish to overstep my bounds, but I have noticed a change in your demeanor of late. The question of whether anyone can imagine you married or not, however, is one I believe must be answered by you. And the lady, of course.” Saint frowned. “Coward.” “There is that, as well.

Never interrupt a lady when she is speaking to you, as if what you have to say is more important.

Saint took a seat at the main faro table at the Society club. “What the devil is a ladies' political tea?” Tristan Carroway, Viscount Dare, finished placing his wager, then sat back, reaching for his glass of port. “Do I look like a dictionary?” “You're domesticated.” Saint motioned for a glass of his own, despite unfriendly looks from the tables' other players. “What is it?” “I'm not domesticated; I'm in love. You should try it. Does wonders for your outlook on life.” “I'll take your word for it, thank you.

It amazes me, Saint, that you can own so few redeemable qualities and still be so likable.

I don't think there'll be a next time, my lady.” Saint smiled. “But thank you for the offer.” Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You're welcome. My, my, manners. Where have you been—church?

Someone was absolutely going to get punched in the head today.

If you ask for an opinion, expect to receive one, and don't make fun of it.

Gentlemanly behavior isn't just opening doors: to make an impression, you have to be concerned over a lady's needs at least as much as your own.

I could live without you, but I wouldn't want to

Don't assume, when a lady wants to take up a task or a cause, that is just a hobby.

You might at least acknowledge that I put my self in harm's way on your behalf, Evie' the deeper voice of Viscount Dare came from her other side. Georgina stiffened. ' No you didn't. Go away now.' 'No, I didn't,' he repeated amiably, and nodded. ' Goodbye.' 'Wait!' Evelyn caught his arm. ' What do you mean, on my behalf?' 'I...ah...' He glanced over her head at his wife. 'I don't mean anything. I have a mental disability.

If he needed an answer about how much he'd changed, that provided it. He didn't want Fatima Hynes or any other nameless female with vacant eyes and an ample bosom. He didn't want anyone else, ever. He wanted Evelyn Marie Ruddick—and he'd be damned if he was going to let Neckcloth Alvington have her without a fight. And if there was one thing he knew how to do better than anyone else in London, it was how to fight dirty

Evelyn Marie wanted to turn him into a gentleman. Well, he wanted to turn her into his mistress.