"Oh, God, Francesca, now there’s a good one. Why? Why? Why?” He gave each one a different tenor, as if he were testing out the word, asking it to different people.
“Why?” he asked again, this time with increased volume as he turned around to face her.
“Why? It’s because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when you were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but I love you, anyway.”
Francesca sagged against the door.
“How’s that for a witty little joke?” he mocked. “I love you. I love you, my cousin’s wife. I love you, the one woman I can never have. I love you, Francesca Bridgerton Stirling." — Michael Stirling, When He Was Wicked.