Page 118 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"I need food, actually. Now that the sickness has passed, I'm starving."

"I'll have something sent up."

He kissed her forehead. "Rest. I'll check on Cordelia and have dinner sent up for both of us."

"You don't have to stay with me."

"Where else would I be?"

"Literally anywhere that doesn't involve watching me be pitiful."

"You're never pitiful. Occasionally dramatic, frequently chaotic, sometimes impossible, but never pitiful."

"That's oddly romantic."

"I'm getting better at it."

"You are. It's disturbing."

"Why disturbing?"

"Because I fell in love with a beast, not a poet."

"I'm hardly a poet."

"You're becoming alarmingly articulate about feelings."

"That is your fault."

"How?"

"You make me feel things. Lots of things. They require words."

"Use fewer words. You're making me emotional."

"Pregnancy is making you emotional."

"You're making it worse."

"Good."

"How is that good?"

"Because if you're emotional about me, you're not worried about other things."

"I'm not worried about anything."

"You're worried about everything. The baby, Cordelia, Cassandra's next move, whether Thistle will teach our child to pick locks..."

"Can he pick locks?"

"Probably. He escapes from everywhere."

"We're doomed."

"Completely."

"Our child will be a criminal mastermind."