Any man, you'll soon learn, has an insurmountable need to blame someone else when he is made to look a fool.

Would you care to dance?” he blurted.
“Now?” She smiled adorably. “Is there music?”
There wasn’t. It was some testament to how foolish in love he’d become that he did not even feel embarrassed.

You know all of the young gentlemen better than I do,” Lady Manston continued. “Are there any we should avoid?”
All of them, George wanted to say.
''What about Ashbourne’s son?''
“No.”
“No?” his mother echoed. “No, as in you don’t have an opinion?”
“No, as in no. He is not for Billie.”
Who, George could not help but note, was watching the mother-son exchange with an odd mix of curiosity and alarm.
“Any particular reason?” Lady Manston asked.
“He gambles,” George lied.
Well, maybe it wasn’t a lie. All gentlemen gambled. He had no idea if the one in question did so to excess.
“What about the Billington heir? I think he —”
“Also no.”
His mother regarded him with an impassive expression.
“He’s too young,” George said, hoping it was true.
“He is?” She frowned. “I suppose he might be. I can’t remember precisely.

the unexpected moment [is] always sweeter.

To err is human; to blame it on the other guy is even more human.

Always blame it on the guy who doesn't speak English