The Seduction of the Crimson Rose Quotes

Rate this book
Clear rating
The Seduction of the Crimson Rose (Pink Carnation, #4) The Seduction of the Crimson Rose by Lauren Willig
8,574 ratings, 3.88 average rating, 614 reviews
Open Preview
The Seduction of the Crimson Rose Quotes Showing 1-13 of 13
“It was lovely to see cynicism in one so young. It positively restored his faith in human nature.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“For a long moment, he held her gaze without speaking, simply letting the impact of words sink in, before adding rapidly, as though he wished to get it over with as quickly as possible, "I won't deny that you're beautiful. No mirror could tell you otherwise. But there are beautiful women for the buying in any brothel in London. Oh yes, and the ballrooms, too, if one has the proper price. It wasn't your appearance that caught me. It was the way you put me down in the gallery at Sibley Court." Vaughn's lips curved in a reminiscent smile. "And the way you tried to bargain with me after."

"Successfully bargained," Mary corrected.

"That," replied Lord Vaughn, "is exactly what I mean. Has anyone ever told you that you haggle divinely? That the simple beauty of your self-interest is enough to bring a man to his knees?"

Mary couldn't in honesty say that anyone had.

Vaughn's eyes were as hard and bright as silver coins. "Those are the reasons I want you. I want you for your cunning mind and your hard heart, for your indomitable spirit and your scheming soul, for they're more honest by far than any of the so-called virtues."

"The truest poetry is the most feigning?" Mary quoted back his own words to him.

"And the most feigning is the most true.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“Gentlemen do so appreciate a nicely trimmed décolletage.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“For the first time, Mary understood what drove animals to bite the hand that fed them—sheer irritation at being patronized.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“The room was so still that Mary could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantel and the gentle whisper of Vaughn’s breathing, in and out, in and out. Outside, there was the rustle of the leaves in the square and a rhythmic creak where someone had left a shutter unlatched and the wind was batting it back and forth, playing with it for its sport. “From another man,” said Mary quietly, “I would have taken that as a proposal of marriage.” Vaughn’s fingers tightened on her shoulder. “In any other circumstance, it would have been.” She could feel the movement as his head turned on the pillow, staring out towards the window. “It might still be.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“Of course, they don't like him! Liking is for ninny-hammers. Real men elicit rancor." Pausing for a moment of deep consideration, she added, "Loathing, even. But never liking."
"Hatred, perhaps?" suggested Mary's brother-in-law, hiding his amused smile behind a tone of excessive gravity.
Mrs. Fustian was not impressed. "Certainly not. Any common laborer can hate. True connoisseurs prefer more subtle shades of aversion.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“Four pounds," demanded the fourteen-foot-high statue of Hercules.
For such a big man, Hercules had a surprisingly high-pitched voice. It took me a moment to realize that it wasn't actually a piece of classical statuary demanding the contents of my wallet, but a very human-size woman seated at a small desk at its base. When you're confronted by a twice-larger-than-life statue of Hercules, wielding a club and wearing little more than a strategically draped serpent, you tend not to notice much else.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“Well?" inquired Jane. "What do think?"
"I think," he said deliberately, "that if you have dragged me out to this inhospitable corner of the earth on nothing more than a bout of romantic whimsy, I shall be entirely unamused."
"My dear lord Vaughn, I never matchmake." Jane smiled to herself as though at a private memory. "Well, very rarely."
Vaughn arranged his eyebrows in their most forbidding position, the one that had sent a generation of valets scurrying for cover. "Don't think to number me among your exceptions."
"I wouldn't dare."
From the woman who had invaded Bonaparte's bedchamber to leave him a posy of pink carnations, that pledge was singularly unconvincing. "I believe there are very few things you wouldn't dare.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“If," said Jane, ignoring him as only Jane dared, "someone were to speak to her; if someone were to suggest . . ."
"Ah." Vaughn's lips compressed, as the whole fiasco suddenly fell into place. "That's what you want of me. To play Hermes for you."
"We can't all be Zeus," Jane said apologetically.
Prolonged exposure to Jane was enough to make anyone take to Bacchus. "I'm afraid I've left my winged shoes at home.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“When I was in Ireland," Letty blurted out, "Vaughn was there, too."
"A hanging offense, to be sure," Mary drawled, in her very best imitation of Vaughn.
The furrows in Letty's brow dug a little deeper, but she didn't allow herself to be deterred. "There was a woman . . ."
"With Vaughn, I imagine there would be," replied Mary thoughtfully, abandoning the drawl. "He's that sort of a man."
"You almost sound as though you admire him for it."
"I do," said Mary coolly, and was surprised to realize she meant it. He was a man who knew what he wanted and took it. She had had enough of poets and moralists, the sort who sighed and yearned and never had the backbone to act. It had taken months to coax, wheedle, and maneuver Geoffrey into taking the final steps towards elopement, and even then he had done so with a heavy conscience and an inauspicious eye. A conscience, Mary decided, was a damnably unattractive trait in a man.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“If not hatred," put in her brother-in-law as the path broadened so that they could walk all abreast, "what of love?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw her sister and brother-in-law exchange a sickeningly speaking glance.
"Hmph," was Mrs. Fustian's eloquent opinion on that subject. For the first time that evening, Mary found herself in perfect agreement with her. "Good enough for shepherdesses, but not at all the thing for civilized folks. Love is a severely destabilizing emotion. Look at Paris," she finished, as though that said it all.
"The city, or the Greek?" inquired Letty in a tone of suppressed laughter, her arm twined possessively through her husband's.
"Either!" declared Mrs. Fustian.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“Colin rubbed his neck with his hand, regarding me like a hopeful puppy dog. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer just to fling something at me and get it over with?"
I leaned back against the cushioned back of the banquette, folded my arms across my chest, and waited.
"Dempster?" I prompted.
Colin considered for a moment, contemplated the olive plate, considered some more, and came out with, "We don't get on."
"That much I figured out on my own."
Colin shifted restlessly in his seat. "It's a long story."
I patted the side of the glass carafe. "We have a large carafe of wine."
Colin let himself relax into a rueful grin. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into it."
"Since I've already been dragged," I suggested, grasping the carafe with two hands and tipping it forwards over his glass, "it would be nice to know what's going on."
"Thanks." Colin took the glass I held out to him. He raised it an ironic salute. "Cheers.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose
“If you'd like to sit here and fume about Dempster or whatever else it is that's eating at you," I said, warming to my theme, "feel free to go right ahead. I'll just head off home and spend the evening watching the snooker championships."
"It's not snooker season, actually," offered Colin, in a conciliatory way.
"Fine. Darts, then."
"Envisioning them thrown at my head?" he asked ruefully.
Despite myself, I smiled back. "We were getting there.”
Lauren Willig, The Seduction of the Crimson Rose