Nothing Like Trapping The Gentlemen

I Keep Waiting For The Day In Which Everyone Who Loves Downton Abbey Will Realize They Were Actually Watching A Historical Romance Novel.

James Started To Laugh. His Chin Hurt Where She'd Smacked Him Twice, His Foot Throbbed Where She'd Stepped On It, And His Entire Body Felt As If He'd Swum Through A Rosebush, Which Wasn't As Far Off The Truth As It Sounded. Yet Still He Started To Laugh.

You’re Going To Be My Grandmother.” “you Silly Child. In My Heart, I’ve Been Your Grandmother For Years. I’ve Just Been Waiting For You To Make It Official.

He Blinked A Few Times, Each Motion So Slow That He Was Never Quite Sure If He’d Get His Eyes Open Again. He Wasn’t Wearing A Shirt. Funny How He Was Only Just Realizing It. Funnier Still That He Couldn’t Seem To Summon Any Concern For Her Maidenly Sensibilities. She Might Be Blushing. He Couldn’t Tell. It Was Too Dark To See. But It Didn’t Matter. This Was Honoria. She Was A Good Egg. A Sensible Egg. She Wouldn’t Be Scarred Forever By The Sight Of His Chest.

You Have A Mother?" He Quirked A Brow. "did You Think Mine Was Some Sort Of Divine Birth? My Father Was A Remarkable Man, But Even He Was Not That Talented.