It all smelled of life— life in every form and degree.
Still. If one could look this fabulous, one had an obligation to. One should wear everything, or one should wear nothing at all.
It had been a whim, and there was nothing Magnus attached more importance to than a whim.
It really was getting difficult to be wonderful.
A count! Named Axel! A military man! With black hair and blue eyes! And in a state of distress! Oh, the universe had outdone herself. The universe would be sent flowers.
It was also a very bad idea.
It was a terrible idea.
It was the worst idea he had ever heard.
It was irresistible.