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“The day after he had proposed to Beatrix, Christopher had reluctantly gone to talk to Prudence. He was prepared to apologize, knowing that he had not been fair in his dealings with her. However, any trace of remorse he might have felt for having deceived Prudence vanished as soon as he saw that Prudence felt no remorse for having deceived him.
It had not been a pleasant scene, to say the least. A plum-colored flush of rage had swept across her face, and she had stormed and shrieked as if she were unhinged.
"You can't throw me over for that dark-haired gargoyle and her freakish family! You'll be a laughingstock. Half of them are Gypsies, and the other half are lunatics- they have few connections and no manners, they're filthy peasants and you'll regret this to the end of your days. Beatrix is a rude, uncivilized girl who will probably give birth to a litter."
As she had paused to take a breath, Christopher had replied quietly, "Unfortunately, not everyone can be as refined as the Mercers."
The shot had gone completely over Prudence's head, of course, and she had continued to scream like a fishwife.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Perhaps it's better after all that you stop writing to him. You seem rather fixed on him. I hope you have no thought that Christopher would ever..." She paused delicately. "Never mind."
"I know what you were going to say," Beatrix had said in a matter-of-fact manner. "Of course I have no illusions about that. I haven't forgotten that he once compared me to a horse."
"He did not compare you to a horse," Prudence said. "He merely said you belonged in the stables. However, he is a sophisticated man, and he would never be happy with a girl who spends most of her time with animals."
"I much prefer the company of animals to that of any person I know," Beatrix shot back. Instantly she regretted the tactless statement, especially as she saw that Prudence had taken it as a personal affront. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"Perhaps you had better leave, then, and go to your pets," Prudence had said in a frosty tone. "You'll be happier conversing with someone who can't talk back to you."
Chastened and vexed, Beatrix had left Mercer House. But not before Prudence had said, "For all our sakes, Bea, you must promise me never to tell Captain Phelan that you wrote the letters. There would be no point in it. Even if you told him, he wouldn't want you. It would only be an embarrassment, and a source of resentment. A man like that would never forgive such a deception.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“How is Prudence?" she heard him ask. It hurt to hear the note of wary longing in his voice.
"Quite well, I believe. She's in London for the season." Beatrix hesitated before adding carefully, "We are still friends, but perhaps not as fond of each other as we once were."
"Why?"
His gaze was alert now. Clearly any mention of Prudence earned his close attention.
Because of you, Beatrix thought, and managed a faint, wry smile. "It seems we have different interests." I'm interested in you, and she's interested in your inheritance.
"You're hardly cut from the same cloth."
Hearing the sardonic note in his voice, Beatrix tilted her head and regarded him curiously. "I don't take your meaning."
He hesitated. "I only meant that Miss Mercer is conventional. And you're... not." His tone was seasoned with the merest hint of condescension... but there was no mistaking it.
Abruptly all the feelings of compassion and tenderness disappeared as Beatrix realized that Christopher Phelan had not changed in one regard: he still didn't like her.
"I would never want to be a conventional person," she said. "They're usually dull and superficial."
It seemed he took that as a slight against Prudence.
"As compared to people who bring garden pests to picnics? No one could accuse you of being dull, Miss Hathaway."
Beatrix felt the blood drain from her face. He had insulted her. The realization made her numb.
"You may insult me," she said, half amazed that she could still speak. "But leave my hedgehog alone.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“Obviously you have no liking for Prudence," he began, "but if you-"
"I've tried my best to like her. I thought if one peeled away the layers of artifice, one would find the real Prudence beneath. But there's nothing beneath. And I doubt there ever will be."
"And you find Beatrix Hathaway superior to her?"
"In every regard, except perhaps beauty."
"There you have it wrong," he informed her. "Miss Hathaway is a beauty."
Audrey's brows lifted. "Do you think so?" she asked idly, lifting the teacup to her lips.
"It's obvious. Regardless of what I think of her character, Miss Hathaway is an exceptionally attractive woman."
"Oh, I don't know..." Audrey devoted careful attention to her tea, adding a tiny lump of sugar. "She's rather tall."
"She has the ideal height and form."
"And brown hair is so common..."
"It's not the usual shade of brown, it's as dark as sable. And those eyes..."
"Blue," Audrey said with a dismissive wave.
"The deepest, purest blue I've ever seen. No artist could capture-" Christopher broke off abruptly. "Never mind. I'm straying from the point.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“I suppose I thought that you might have tried to attract Christopher's attention to yourself. As ludicrous as that would have been."
Beatrix tilted her head slightly. "Ludicrous?"
"Perhaps that's not the right word. I meant unsuitable. Because a man in Christopher's position needs a sophisticated woman. Someone to support his position in society. With his fame and influence, he may enter politics someday. And he could hardly do that with a wife who spent most of her time in the forest... or the stables."
That delicate reminder was like an arrow through Beatrix's heart.
"She's more suited to the stables than the drawing room," Christopher had once said.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“And an image had appeared in Christopher's head... not the usual ones of the war, but a peaceful one... Beatrix's face, calm and intent, as she had tended a wounded bird the previous day. She had wrapped the broken wing of a small sparrow against its body, and then showed Rye how to feed the bird. As Christopher had watched the proceedings, he had been struck by the mixture of delicacy and strength in Beatrix's hands.
Bringing his attention back to the ranting woman before him, Christopher pitied the man who eventually became Prudence's husband.
Prudence's mother had come into the parlor then, alarmed by the uproar, Christopher had taken his leave soon after, regretting every minute he had ever wasted in Prudence Mercer's company.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“And an image had appeared in Christopher's head... not the usual ones of the war, but a peaceful one... Beatrix's face, calm and intent, as she had tended a wounded bird the previous day. She had wrapped the broken wing of a small sparrow against its body, and then showed Rye how to feed the bird. As Christopher had watched the proceedings, he had been struck by the mixture of delicacy and strength in Beatrix's hands.
Bringing his attention back to the ranting woman before him, Christopher pitied the man who eventually became Prudence's husband.
Prudence's mother had come into the parlor then, alarmed by the uproar, and she had tried to soothe her. Christopher had taken his leave soon after, regretting every minute he had ever wasted in Prudence Mercer's company.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

“What do you think of her?" he asked.
Annandale replied without hesitation. "I would marry her myself, were I five years younger."
"Five?" Christopher repeated skeptically.
"Ten, damn you." But a slight smile had appeared on the earl's time-weathered face. "I commend you on your choice. She's a spirited girl. Fearless, Lovely in her own way, and with her charm she has no need of true beauty. You'll need to keep a firm hand on the reins, but the trouble will be worth it." He paused, looking wistful. "Once you've had a woman like that, you can never be content with the ordinary kind."
Christopher had been about to argue over the question of Beatrix's beauty, which in his opinion was unequaled. But that last sentence caught his attention. "You're referring to Grandmother?" he asked.
"No. Your grandmother was the kind of woman I thought I should marry. I was in love with someone else- a far less suitable girl. And I let her go, to my everlasting regret." He sighed, pondering some distant memory. "A lifetime without her..."
Fascinated, Christopher wanted to ask more... but this was hardly the time or place for such a conversation. However, it gave him an unexpected insight into his grandfather. What would it do to a man, to marry a Prudence when one might have had a Beatrix? It would be enough to turn anyone bitter.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon