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282 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 28, 2006
"He's a . . . A reprobate." Sorcha stared into the depths of her ruby wine with such heat the liquid should have simmered. "He's a . . . A wretch. He's a miscreant. He's-"
"A whoreson," Roxanne said.
Tulia shushed her.
But that was exactly the term Sorcha had been searching for. "Yes. A whoreson! A filthy, slimy, whoreson. A disgusting lousy-"
"Dilberry," Ora said.
"Yes. A Dilberry." Sorcha didn't know what it meant, but it sounded awful. "He's a ghastly, repellent dilberry."
"Devils dung." Grandmother Sancia said.
"Certainly he's devil's dung." Sorcha relished the phrase. "A steaming, stinking pile of devil's dung."
"A gravy-eyed frig pig," Phoenice said.
"Yes, he is the worst, most horrible gravy-eyed frig pig I've ever seen." Sorcha made her pronouncement with a great deal of zest.
Roxanne put down her cup. "Actually, I think he's rather handsome and important-looking."
Every woman in the kitchen turned and glared at her.
"Gravy-eyed and a frig pig," Roxanne said hastily. "I don't know how I missed it."