This was amazing, possibly better than the first book when it came down to characters and the couple's chemistry. I know some people had problems with the ending, St. Vincent and Marcus, but those were some of the reasons I thought this was better than Secrets of a Summer Night.
While I loved the idea of Hunt being a self-made man, Westcliff enchanted me. I'm not exactly sure why, to be quite honest. Honorable, proper guys don't usually do it for me. However, much like Miss Bowman, sometimes I just wanted to tear off all of his buttons and set his trousers on fire. And it's no secret Lillian is my favorite wallflower. If you add their explosive, electric relationship, it's easy for me to admit this is my favorite Kleypas book so far.
Favorite quotes (I really did narrow it down, but there were so many hilarious scenes!):
“I like holding it at the base.”
“It’s too long for you,” he insisted, “which is why you pull your swing just before you hit the ball—”
“I like a long bat,” Lillian argued, even as he adjusted her hands on the willow handle. “The longer the better, as a matter of fact.”
A distant snicker from one of the stable boys caught her attention, and she glanced at him suspiciously before turning to face Westcliff. His face was expressionless, but there was a glitter of laughter in his eyes. “Why is that amusing?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” Westcliff said blandly, and turned her toward the pitcher again.
“I’m heading to the library for a novel,” Daisy announced brightly. “The one I’m reading now is something of a disappointment, and I don’t care to finish it.”
“Go to the last row on the right, two shelves from the floor,” Lady Olivia advised. “And look behind the books in front. I’ve hidden my favorite novels there—wicked stories that no innocent girl should read. They’ll corrupt you immeasurably.”
“What is the source of this family's infernal obsession with Americans?”
“What an interesting question, Mother,” Livia said drolly. “For some reason none of your offspring can stand the thought of marrying one of their own kind. Why do you suppose that is, Marcus?”
“I suspect the answer would not be flattering to any of us,” came his sardonic reply.
“I’ll leave you here to finish your, er…conversation.” As he withdrew from the room, however, it seemed that he couldn’t keep from ducking his head back in and asking Marcus cryptically, “Once a week, did you say?”
“Close the door behind you,” Marcus said icily, and Hunt obeyed with a smothered sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter.