Quotes from Anne Gracie

Yes. And when a rake finally falls, he falls forever.

Even when no one loves you, there is always someone to love, someone who needs to be loved. Always. You just have to look outside yourself.

Prettiness fades after a few years, but elegance only increases with age.

Why didn't I know about this, Gideon? Lady Augusta demanded, clearly aggrieved at not being first with the news. And what Welsh aunt is this? Auntie Angharad, Gideon informed her solemnly. Lady Augusta thought for a moment and then declared, You don't have an Auntie Angharad! No, he agreed in a sorrowful voice. She's dead.

One word frees us all the weight and pain of life: That word is Love. -Sophocles

What the dev— er, deuce did you do that for? It hurt!" "Good," said the angel. "I was afraid these new shoes would not be sturdy enough.

Did he know she could barely think, let alone speak, for awareness of proximity of his fingers? Of course he knew. He was a rake. This is what he did.

Lord Carradice managed to look wicked, smug, and saintly, all at the same time.

Do you think ladies' eyebrows can communicate as well?" she asked. "No, they don't have sufficient thicketry," he said with authority. "Thicketry?" "Yes, that is the official term.

I was shy," said six-foot-one of bashful male. He grunted as a sharp, feminine elbow thudded inconspicuously into his side.

Gideon could not imagine any other young unmarried woman of his acquaintance passing up the opportunity to snare, if not himself, then the Carradice fortune. In any case, the number of women who'd rejected him in any way was gratifyingly small. Yet Miss Prudence Merridew had most unmistakably rejected him. Several times. Wielding that damned lethal reticule like a little Amazon, to emphasize her point.

Well, go on then, Abby; run along and let the nice man compromise you.

How did you ask a man, Oh, by the way, did you ask me to marry you the other day or were you merely suggesting I become your mistress? Formality was the key to surviving this, she hoped.

Imp. It's short for ImPrudence—much more appropriate. Whoever named you Prudence was ill-advised. There is not a shred of prudence or caution in you!" He observed her indignant reaction with patent approval, then commented affably, "You know, huffing and puffing like that shows off your bosom very prettily.

The duke arched an eyebrow. "She is not one of your…er…" Gideon laughed again. "Oh, good Lord, no, she is not one of my ers.

When a rake falls, he falls forever. <3

women need to hear the words. They don't need the world conquered for them, but they do need a man to speak the words that are in his heart.

I could still box your ears." "Nonsense," he scoffed. "You couldn't reach that high.

You know your fear is both false and illogical, but you fear it anyway.

And they say an addiction to novels is bad for you.

Family can hurt you much more than outsiders can.

There is no need to shove, his duchess said snippily. There is every need. Think of it not as shoving, but an affectionate nudge.

They'd be complaining about having to walk, and screeching at me to 'do something, Freddy, do something!'" "But what could you do?" she said, puzzled. "Carry them, probably." He gave her a hopeful look. "Do you want me to carry you?

Nanny McBride," she said with a straight face. His old nanny. His eyes flew open. "Nanny McBride?" "I'm sure she'd be much better than I am at administering a good whipping. Yes, I can just see Nanny McBride in a red French corset with black lace—" "Stop!" he roared. He shuddered. "That's an image that's going to stick in my mind forever. Horrible.