Penelope

Men like to imagine and think vulgar thoughts, but present them with boldness and they run scared.

Penny, how can you behave like a total idiot?" Anne giggled, "I have no pride when it comes to winning back people I love.

A decent moustache can intimidate a man, while a great moustache can frighten an army.

Can I have my ear back?" He asked irritably. She blinked. "Mother, can you tell this creature here to loosen her hold?

Penelope glared at her, “Madame said that men love damsels in distress. She failed to point out that damsels in distress look wretched, miserable and downright horrid.” “Men do love damsels in distress. We simply need to look lovely while fighting mortal peril.

When you get beef from the butcher, you don’t feel bad for the cow that has been killed. But if someone asked you to wield a knife and kill the cow yourself, you wouldn’t be able to do it.” “Are you saying that you are a cow?” “Exactly.” “What?” “You found me alive and couldn’t bring yourself to kill me. It would have been alright if the storm had finished me off. I am like that cow and the storm is the butcher. Do you see now?” “Yes, I see. You absolutely insist that you are a cow. I am not arguing.

This was it, a crossroad where a happy home was within her grasp, and on the other side lay years of loneliness and misery.

Londoners, with their noses pressed to cold windows, smiled, for a mid-summer storm was raging across England. Zues had blessed their land, taking away the bright happy sun and replacing it with gusty winds, lashing rain and utter misery.

After an hour of gliding though the crowd and two glasses of tepid wine later, Penelope had reached the spiritual state of being merrily tipsy. It was that perfect state when everything starts looking wonderful and every tragedy turns into a comedy.

A well-read highwayman, who would have thought?” the dowager commented. “Oh, he absolutely adores books. He plans to retire when he has enough money and furnish his library with hundreds of books. He has already started a collection by stealing all he can find off lords and such.

Unhand her," said a voice behind her. A voice she had never before thought she would be glad to hear. A voice that was commanding, strong and deep. Her eyes popped open and she whirled around to find the duke standing right behind her. The man made a grab for her but the duke had already caught her waist and deposited her behind him. "Let us go and I will not inform the authorities," the duke suggested. The man sneered, "Lady in mine." "Dear fellow, I would love to hand you over this young lady with all my sympathies, believe me. But my sister and my mother would have my head. She, you see, belongs to them.

..a lesson to you Ann, is that a man, however much he lives under the illusion, is never in control. A woman holds the whip that slaps the horse's rump, my dear. And here is another lesson for you to chew on. Men are like barrels of wine in Sir Hammersmith's basement. Strong, sturdy and inviting on the outside, whereas on the inside completely empty.

Change of plans," the duke announced entering the carriage. "Anne, you are engaged to Lord Rivers. Penelope, you are now my fiancee.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence the dowager spoke, "You are engaged to be married to Lady Lydia Snowly. Are you now also engaged to Miss Fairweather?

Lady Anne sighed and whispered to Penelope, “My brother stands guard over me like a sphinx or a fiery dragon. Only men with courage are allowed to make way to my side, and unfortunately England is full of chicken-hearted nitwits.

It is an adventure called Bertie’s Botheration. A haunting, gothic tale of…” She stopped for the dowager was frantically gesturing to her heart and grinning. “You have read it! It is my favourite book. Ah, I see you love it too. Yes... yes, I understand you could never tell anyone that it is your favourite. Not lofty enough. I keep a few acceptable names in my head every time someone asks me what my favourite book is, but one does not really confess what book they actually really like and have read over and over …

Theodore, I don’t think I have to tell you but …” “I won’t mention the little incident, your grace. Not even on my deathbed.” “Thank you, but to be safe you should give me your solemn oath.” Theodore repeated his promise with his hand on his heart. “Ah, we have to do his sort of thing correctly. Fetch me a holy book.

She had softened at his concern for her, but his tone was back to being scathing. She deduced that his concern was not for her safety. Dealing with the dead bodies of guests who broke their necks tumbling down his staircase in too long skirts would have disturbed his schedule.