Anne strove for honesty whenever possible, probably because it so often wasn't possible.
Julia QuinnI need to know how you can be so certain,' Daniel said, his voice dropping into a furious hush.
'Well...' Hugh brought his glass to his lips and took something deeper than a sip. 'If you must know, I told him that if anything happens to you, I would kill myself.'
If Daniel had been holding anything, anything at all, it would have crashed to the ground. It was a remarkable thing that *he* did not crash to the ground.
'My father knows me well enough to know that I do not say such a thing lightly,' Hugh said, lightly.
Daniel couldn't speak.
'So if you would...' Hugh took another drink, this time barely touching his lips to the liquid. 'I would appreciate if you would endeavor not to get yourself killed in an unhappy accident. I'm sure to blame it on my father, and honestly, I'd rather not see myself off unnecessarily.'
'You're mad,' Daniel whispered ... 'Why would you do such a thing?' Daniel could not imagine anyone else - not even Marcus, who was truly a brother to him - making the same sort of threat.
It is only that I am fascinated by the postal system. It's really quite marvelous.
He looked at her curiously, and she couldn't tell if he believed her. Luckily for her, it was the truth, even if she'd said it to cover a lie ... 'I should like to follow a letter one day,' she said, 'just to see where it goes.'
'To the address on its front, I would imagine,' he said.
She pressed her lips together to acknowledge his little gibe, then said, 'But *how*? That is the miracle.'
He smiled a bit. 'I must confess, I had not thought of the postal system in such biblical terms, but I am always happy to e educated.'
'It is difficult to imagine a letter traveling any faster than it does today,' she said happily, ' unless we learn how to fly.'
'There are always pigeons,' he said.
She laughed. 'Can you imagine an entire flock, lifting off to the sky to deliver our mail?'
'It is a terrifying prospect. Especially for those walking beneath.'
That brought another giggle. Anne could not recall the last time she had felt so merry.
Tag: mail
Whatever mirth Miss Wynter had been holding onto burst out in a spray of eggs and bacon ... 'It's a good thing you're wearing yellow,' Elizabeth said to Frances.
Frances glanced down at her bodice, shrugged, then lightly brushed herself off with her serviette.
'Too bad the fabric doesn't have little sprigs of red flowers,' Elizabeth added. 'The bacon, you know.' She turned to Daniel as if waiting for some sort of confirmation, but he wanted no part of any conversation that included partially digested airborne bacon
I'm right here,' Frances said gamely.
'So you are,' Annie replied. 'Gold star for you.'
'It's really too bad that you don't have *actual* gold stars. I shouldn't have to pinch up my pin money each week.'
'If I had actual gold stars,' Anne replied with a quirk of her brow, 'I shouldn't have to be your governess.'
'Touché,' Frances said admiringly.
Anne gave her a wink. There was something rather satisfying about earning the regard of a ten-year-old.
I really must tell you, I have never been a thespian.'
Harriet waved this off like a gnat. 'That is what is so wonderful about my plays. Anyone can enjoy himself.'
...
'I am *not* playing a frog.' His eyes narrowed wickedly. 'Unless you [Anne] do, too.'
'There is only one frog in the play,' Harriet said blithely.
'But isn't the title The Marsh of the Frogs?' he asked, even though he should have known better. 'Plural?' Good Lord, the entire conversation was making him dizzy.
'That's the irony,' Harriet said, and Daniel managed to stop himself just before he asked her what she meant by that (because it fulfilled no definition of irony *he'd* ever heard).
She closed her eyes, and Daniel could practically see the memory washing over her face. 'It was such a lovely night,' she whispered. 'Midsummer, and so very clear. You could have counted the stars forever.
Julia QuinnHe didn't know what he felt. For the first time in his life, his thoughts were a jumble, tossing and turning and writing over each other like an endlessly edited story.
Julia QuinnHe wanted her. He wanted her completely.
But his family was waiting for him at supper, and his ancestors were staring down at him from their portrait frames, and *she* - the woman in question - was watching him with a wariness that broke his heart.
We have been studying the Isle of Man for geography,' Frances said glumly. 'The people are Manx. There are cats that are Manx. That's the only good thing about it. The word *Manx*.'
Daniel could not even think of a comment.
'It ends in an x,' Frances explained, not that that cleared things up any.
Daniel cleared his throat, deciding not to pursue the x-ish (x-ient? x-astic?) avenue of conversation.
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