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His lordship can eat my fat—

Gail Carriger

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Gail Carriger
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: May 4
Archaeologist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Bolinas
California
Lordship
Fats

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I like fish, chirruped Tunstell. Really, Mr. Tunstell? What is your preferred breed? Well--Tunstell hesitated--you know, the um, ones that--he made a swooping motion with both hands--uh, swim.
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Captain Niall, having apparently resigned himself to losing his quarry, was savaging her horsehair petticoat into teeny, tiny shreds. Really, what did my poor petticoat do to offend?
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I am rather fond of ladybugs. They are so delightfully hemispherical.
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I do not giggle without purpose. Lady Linette says you should never misapply a giggle.
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Alphas simply did not grovel arrogance was part of the job description.
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What have I done thins time? he paused to ask before continuing with his oral expedition about her body: her husband, the intrepid explorer.
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As with most things in life, Lady Maccon preferred the civilized exterior to the dark underbelly (with the exception of pork products, of course.)
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Someone was trying to kill Lady Alexia Maccon. It was most inconvenient, as she was in a dreadful hurry. Given her previous familiarity with near-death experiences and their comparative frequency with regards to her good self, Alexia should probably have allowed extra time for such a predictable happenstance.
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You are about as covert as a sledgehammer.
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Why? I mean, why you? I can perfectly comprehend not liking my husband. I dislike him intensely most of the time.” Professor Lyall stifled a chuckle. “I am given to understand that he does not approve of spelling one’ s name with two ll’s. He finds it inexcusably Welsh. I suspect he may be quite taken with you, however.
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The ill-informed masses included her own family among their ranks, a family that specialized in being both inconvenient and asinine.
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No one ever explained the octopuses.
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Sophronia was minding her own business and running late to luncheon, as was her custom. She'd let to learn the advantage of punctuality. As she told Sister Mattie the third time she was late to household potions and poisons, nothing interesting happened until after an event commenced.
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Who doesn’t want an exploding wicker chicken?
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Uh, my lord, I am not actually food. You do realize this, yes?
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My petal. Westminster’s toy had tea issues. Thank Biffy and Lyall. Toodle pip. A.
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How ghastly for her, people actually thinking, with their brains, and right next door. Oh, the travesty of it all.
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These things, regrettably, are bound to occur when one is married and befriended.
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His eyes are peculiar. There is nothing in them, like an eclair without the cream filling. It's wrong, lack of cream.
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Ah, Ivy, thought Alexia happily, spreading a verbal fog wherever she goes.
Gail Carriger