From the Inside Flap
"Good morning. How are you feeling?"
"With the help of liniment, I should survive."
"I'm very glad." He gestured toward the chafing dishes and platters of food set up on the sideboard nearby. "I hope you're hungry."
"Indeed, I am." She glanced at his arm. "May I help you with your plate?"
"That's very thoughtful, but Morris will assist me."
After they were settled at the table, the girl began spouting a long list of things she admired about his lifestyle, including indoor lavatories, hot water, and milled soap. Then came an equally long litany of gratitude, from his leniency regarding her deception, to the kindly ministrations of Ursula, and thereafter for her clothes. He let her conversation flow past, unheeded, as he ate the egg dish Mrs. Evans had prepared.
"Lord Henley, had you heard the quagga has gone extinct?"
He glanced up. "What?"
"The last one in the entire world just died in Amsterdam. It's rather sad, really."
His eyebrows drew together. "The quagga, did you say?"
"Yes. It's a species of zebra, native to South Africa."
"I've not heard of it."
"I rather doubted you had."
Her tone held a note of reproach, and he chuckled. "I suppose this is your way of pointing out I've been neglecting you?"
"I'd never dream of making such an accusation."
"No, of course not, but you're right. You should know that I'm exceedingly absorbed with myself. It's a personal failing of mine."
She gave him a little smile. "I shan't let you off that easily; I expect I was prattling on." She shrugged. "I've no idea how to converse with a baron."
"Neither do I, actually. Whenever I talk to myself, it's usually about the weather."