The Lure of the Moonflower
Lauren Willig
Top 10 Best Quotes
“It's the exile's dilemma. The home they yearn for is never the home to which they return. If they return.”
“If a man took a lover it would be accounted commonplace. Why shouldn't you? Your virtue lies in your mind, not in what lies between your legs.”
“What is love? Jane had asked Nicolas, when he had professed that emotion, unasked. It hadn’t been coyness. It had been a genuine question. She knew what the poets said of love; she knew what great men and women had sacrificed in the name of that elusive emotion. Towers had toppled; fleets had been launched. But Jane had always wondered if they had all felt a bit sheepish about it afterwards, if what they had lauded as love was merely, in fact, the grip of a strong infatuation, lust fueled by inaccessibility. The prize, when won, lost its luster; infatuation turned to indifference. The famous beauty had a shrill voice; the great lover stinted his servants. Love was a chimera, an ideal. Maybe you just aren’t capable of feeling it , Nicolas had tossed back at her, one of those golden barbs that cut deeper than she had ever allowed herself to acknowledge. But he had been wrong. And so had she. Love wasn’t an ideal; it was messy and muddy and fraught with inconsistencies. It was a hard arm around her shoulders when she slipped and might have fallen, a reluctant nod in the middle of an argument. It was the slouch of Jack’s shoulders and the crooked line of his smile. It was knowing that whatever hardships befell them, they would stumble through it together.”
“The woman in purple subjected Jack to a critical inspection. “You must be Jack. Jane succeeded in part of her mission, at least.” And then: “You don’t look at all as I expected.” “Fewer horns?” said Jack tersely.”
“If you don’t mind my interrupting your no doubt fascinating private conversation,” said Richard, lifting a blond brow, “there have been some inquiries as to why our guest is not bound.” “Or trussed,” contributed Henrietta. “I have,” said Nicolas, spreading his arms wide, “attempted to explain, but your comrades, my love, seem reluctant to listen. I would prefer not to have rope marks on this coat, if it is all the same.” “There must be some shackles in the dungeon,” said Henrietta darkly. “Rust stains,” said Nicolas politely, “are very difficult to get out. My valet would be most cross. And one does not like to encounter Gaston when he is cross.” Miles nodded knowingly. “Valets, eh?”
“Don’t worry,” said Lizzy brightly, dancing into the chamber in a peculiar costume that was part Robin Hood and part Paris frock. “I have my crossbow.” Nicolas regarded the costume appreciatively. “That is a most unusual ensemble, mademoiselle. But becoming.” “I know,” said Lizzy. “And I still have my crossbow.” Nicolas bowed his head in acknowledgment.”
“You’re not holding it against Jane that Gwen asked her to bring you home? I didn’t know,” he added quickly. “Not until the plan was in motion. And by then—” “I don’t imagine many people say no to Mrs. Reid,” said Jack dryly. “Not within range of her parasol.” His father grinned at him. Reluctantly, Jack found himself grinning back. Even at his angriest he had never been entirely proof against his father’s charm. It was part of the reason he had stayed away so long.”
“You,” said Henrietta, regarding the Gardener with the sort of venom usually reserved for people who ignore the queue at lending libraries. “What are you doing here?” The Gardener doffed his hat. “Lady Henrietta. How lovely to see you again.” Jane couldn’t echo the sentiment. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Henrietta; Henrietta was like a sister to her, or at least the closer kind of cousin. But she wasn’t exactly the person Jane would have chosen for a sensitive mission to a French-occupied country. And where Henrietta was . . . “Hullo! Did I hear voices?” Miles careened into his wife’s back. Catching sight of the Gardener and his wife’s Medusa stare, Miles prudently backed up a step. “Does anyone have any port on hand?” Miles inquired of no one in particular. “And perhaps a biscuit.” Lady Henrietta plunked her hands on her hips. “You’re going to feed him?” “No,” said Miles, hiding behind his floppy hair. “For me. I feel in need of fortification.”
“The urge to turn his back until his stepmother went away was strong, but the urge to talk about Jane was stronger. “You were her chaperone?” Jack said, the words half lost on the wind. “Chaperone, second in command.” Miss Gwen rested her parasol point on the ground, frowning out to sea, her eyes searching the waters that separated them from the mainland. “I’ve known her since she was born.” “Was she always . . .” Jack stuck. “Maddeningly omniscient?” Miss Gwen gave a sharp bark of a laugh. “Yes. Even as a child. Oh, she hid it well. The girl had good manners. She knew when to keep her mouth shut in adult company. But if you made the mistake of asking! The vicar,” she said with satisfaction, “never questioned her about her catechism again.”
“Sunset. He had promised her until sunset. “If something goes wrong, we need to get her out.” Miles Dorrington looked thoughtful. “I say, we could raise the Jolly Roger and storm the fort as pirates. While they’re panicking, you sneak in and retrieve Jane.” “Too many cannons,” said Jack tersely. “You’ll be blown to splinters before we can get inside. Next?” Lizzy raised her crossbow. “I could—” “No,” said Jack and his father in unison. When Jack had finished glaring at his father, he said, “Jane and I discussed this. If she’s not back by sundown, Lord Richard and I”—Jack nodded to the blond man, who nodded back—“will go after her disguised as dragoons.” Lord Richard quickly took charge. “I’ll see that my men acquire the relevant uniforms.” “No,” said Jack’s new stepmother. “No?” Jack looked narrowly at his stepmother. “What do you propose, then?” His stepmother paced decisively down the deck. “Richard”—Lord Richard leaped agilely out of range of her parasol—“will stay and mind the Bien-Aimée . If Jane isn’t back by sundown”—Jack’s stepmother regarded him imperiously—“you and I will go after her.” “Gwen is very good at rappelling down walls,” said Jack’s father, looking at his bride with gooey eyes. “Up them, too.” “We’re not rappelling,” said Jack. If there was anything he hated, it was rappelling. It was as showy and useless as swinging through windows on ropes. “We’re going through the door.” “I’ve known that girl since she was born.” His stepmother stalked towards him, parasol point glinting. “I’ve protected her from more assailants than you’ve had hot suppers. If you go, I go.” “How lovely,” said Lady Henrietta brightly. “You can get to know each other.” Miles Dorrington prudently lifted his wife by the waist and deposited her out of parasol range. “We don’t know that she’ll need rescuing,” said Jack, staring down his new stepmother. “The plan might go as planned.” His stepmother snorted. “With the Gardener? I’ll go get my pistols.” And she departed, leaving Jack with a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach as he tried not to contemplate what the Gardener might be doing with Jane right now.”
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Book Keywords:
exile, love, feminism, virtue, home
