"Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. , and munched a roll and butter with hearty appetite. This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. Permit me to make him known to you—Mr. . His perseverance was amply rewarded.
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