Patricia Grasso

“Thank ye."“For what?"“For bein’ who ye are."Gabby chuckled and shook her head, saying, “And who else could I be?”

“Look there.” Regina pointed toward the northern sky. “Polaris.”Viktor looked up. “The constant north star, one of man’s most dependable guides.”“Polaris will be waiting for us there when we are old and have experienced a lifetime of joys and regrets,” Regina said, a wistful note in her voice. “That fact makes me feel like one of God’s most insignificant creatures.”

“Let’s escape outside,” Isabelle suggested. “Do you have any other talents?”“I bake and garden.”“Do you sew, too?”Amber nodded. “I sew whenever anger incites me to mutilation.”Isabelle laughed. “One cannot hang for attacking a piece of cloth.”

“How does a woman gain such wisdom in only twenty-nine years?” Gordon asked, escorting her across the lawns toward the mansion.“The same way a man does."“Which is?"Lady Keely cast him an ambiguous smile. “Either you are born with wisdom, my lord, or you make dowithout it...”

“The money is mine, not yours,” Reginald reminded her. “You ungrateful wretch. I found you an earl to marry, and your son will be an earl.”“You chose yourself a son-in-law,” Regina said. “You traded me for a title.”“You will thank me—”“—for dying and leaving me in peace.”“You will regret those words some day.”“I can manage the regret, if not my own finances.”