It’s Memorial Day, which for me is a bit sad, so let’s liven things up with some witty dialogue. Post an excerpt of yours and buy links if you have them.
Here is mine from The Seduction of Lady Phoebe. The first book in The Marriage Game.
Her sister embraced Phoebe, and Hermione’s eyes twinkled as the children tried to pull their aunt away. “Not that I am not delighted to see you, my dear. But what, may I ask, brings you to me a week early and with no notice?”
Phoebe pulled a face. “Amabel is match making again.”
Answering an insistent tug on her skirts, Phoebe picked up little Mary.
Hermione shrugged. “Amabel has been trying to arrange a match for you since the first season after she and Geoffrey married, when you fagged her to death.”
“Yes, but this time she has gone beyond the line of what I can endure.” Phoebe pressed her lips together. “Though to be fair, she doesn’t know what he did.”
Her sister raised an enquiring brow.
Phoebe briefly closed her eyes. Hermione had seen her leave the gallery that day, but they had never discussed it.
“Amabel invited her brother, Lord Marcus Finley, to meet me in two days.” Phoebe adjusted Mary on her hip. “I told him eight years ago at Worthington’s estate, when we had that unfortunate contretemps, that I never wanted to see him again and nothing has changed.”
Hermione nodded. “I remember how upset you were.”
Holding Mary closer, Phoebe said, “Now that he has returned for good, I know I’ll not be able to avoid meeting him at some point, but I do not wish to be placed in the position where I must be alone with him. That’s exactly what would have happened had I stayed at Cranbourne Place.”
Phoebe was distracted by her niece, whose bouncing had become insistent. “What is it, my love?”
Mary took Phoebe’s face between her small chubby hands. “Don’t be ’set,” Mary said, and kissed Phoebe. “It be all wight.”
She held her closer. “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll be right as a trivet. Aunt Phoebe just needs to escape the troll.”
Hermione frowned. “That was a piece of high meddling on Amabel’s part to be sure. My dear, what will you do when you see him again? As Dunwood’s heir, Lord Marcus is bound to be at many of the same events you will attend.”
Her sister was right, Lord Dunwood was very politically active, as was her uncle, Henry, the Seventh Marquis of St. Eth. Phoebe raised one brow and haughtily looked down her nose. “If we meet, I shall, of course, be civil,” she said icily.
He sister burst into laughter. “Oh, yes, that look should send him to the right about.”
Phoebe responded, “Well, I certainly hope it does. The last time I had to punch him in the nose to dissuade him. It’s a shame I am too young to set up my own household.”
“Oh, Phoebe!” Hermione’s eyes widened. “Do you wish to set the ton on its ear?” She tapped her cheek, appearing as if she were deep in thought. “Hmm. I have just the thing. You could find a husband.”
“Et tu, Brute?” Phoebe tried to look hurt, but couldn’t stop the laugh. “Marriage to just anyone won’t solve anything.”
“Phoebe, we just have your best interests at heart. Surely there must be someone.”
“Well, Hermione, at least you do not try to make matches for me.”
“No, and I will not do so,” her sister responded. “You will know when you meet the right man, without any assistance from me or anyone else.”
Suddenly wistful, Phoebe raised her gaze to her sister’s. “Do you truly think I shall know?”
“I do indeed. You need only remember what Mamma told us. That when you find the gentleman of your heart, it will be as if he is the only person you can see.”
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