This is still one of the most charming, fun historical romances I’ve ever read.

Chase’s wards are a hoot:

“Rosamund, it’s time you learned a harsh lesson.” He opened the nursery door. “We don’t always get what we want in life.”

Didn’t Chase know it. He didn’t want to be guardian to a pair of orphaned girls. He didn’t want to be next in line for the Belvoir dukedom. And he most assuredly did not want to be attending his fourth funeral in as many days. Yet here he was.

Daisy turned to them. A veil of dark netting covered her straw colored curls. “Please show respect for the dead.”

She waved Chase forward. He dutifully crossed to her side, bending down so that she could pin a black armband around his shirtsleeve.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. So very sorry. You don’t know how sorry.

He took his place at the head of the bed, looking down at the deceased. She was ghostly pale and swaddled in a white shroud. Buttons covered her eyes. Thank God. It was damned unnerving when the eyes looked up at him with that glassy, empty stare.

Daisy reached for his hand and bowed her head. After leading them in a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer, she poked Chase in the ribs. “Mr. Reynaud, kindly say a few words.”

Chase looked to the heavens. God help him.

“Almighty father,” he began in a dispirited tone, “we commit to your heeping the soul of Millicent. Ashes to ashes. Sawdust to sawdust. She was a doll of few words and yet fewer autonomous movements yet she will be remembered for the ever-present– some might say permanently painted–smile on her face. By the grace of our Redeemer, we know she will be resurrected, perhaps as soon as luncheon.” He added under his breath, “Unfortunately.”

“Amen,” Daisy intoned. With solemnity, she lowered the doll into the wooden toy chest, then closed the lid.”

Chase’s desperation to find a governess which leads him to make an offer to Alex:

“There’s been a mistake. I came to offer my services as a timekeeper. I’m not a governess. I’ve not training, no experience. And governesses are gently bred women, aren’t they? I don’t meet that qualification either.”

“I don’t care if you’re gently bred, roughly bred, or a loaf of brown bread with butter. You’re educated, you understand propriety, and you’re … breathing.”

From the start Alex is dooooomed:

She would never be tempted by him again.

Not his smile.

Not his eyes.

Most certainly not his bare chest.

Nor his voice, forearms, wit, charm, or large feet.

And not his warm, delicious smelling coat, either.

Oh, Alex. You are doomed.

Chase can’t help himself either:

“We should go after the girls.”

“Yes, we should.”

Neither of them moved.

Alex bit her lip. “We’re going to kiss instead, aren’t we?”

He caught her in his arms. “You’re goddamned right, we are.”

This book was so good! (As are all Tessa Dare books) See my full review here.

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