Georgette Heyer: Sylvester

Olen huono lukemaan romanttisia kirjoja, mutta Heyerille aina löytyy aikaa. Erityisesti englannin kielellä hänen valitsemansa aikakauden tuntemus - tyylit, slangi, yläluokan käytöstavat - kuvataan erinomaisesti. Haut ton on näiden kirjojen päähenkilö, miten tahansa Georgette sitten kulloistakin lemmenpariaan kieputtelee. Näyte "Sylvesteristä":

Sylvester on herttua, joka on katsastamassa itselleen vaimoa. Sukulaisten ehdottama sukulaistyttö Phoebe ei tunnu oikealta, mutta tytöllä on huumorintajua. Herttua on lähtenyt ratsastusretkelle Phoeben, kuolleen veljensä lesken ja tämän uuden kosijan, äärettömän typerän keikarin kanssa. Leski kiistelee poikansa holhouksesta, jonka veli on kuollessaan jättänyt herttualle. Miesten kesken syntyy seuraava keskustelu:

"My sweet life," I said - you've no objektion to to that, Duke?"
"Not the least in the world."
"You haven't?" exclaimed Sir Nugent, slewing his body round to stare at Sylvester, an exertion which the stiff points of his collar and the height of that Oriental Tie made necessary.
"Why should I?"
"You've put your finger on the nub, Duke!" sair Sir Nugent. "Why should you? I can't tell, and I believe I've cut my wisdoms. "My love," I said (if you've no objection) "you've got a maggot in your Idea-pot."
"And what had she to say to that?" enquired Sylvester, conscious a wish that Phoebe had not cantered ahead.
"She denied it," said Sir Nugent. "Said you were bent on throwing a rub in our way."
"Oh?"
"Just what I said myself! 'Oh!' I said."
"Not 'my love'?"
"Not then. Because I was surprised. You might say I was bewattled."
"Like a duck in a thunderstorm."
"No," said Sir Nugent, giving this his consideration. "I fancy, Duke, that if you were to ask all round the ton if Nugent Fotherby had ever looked like any species of fowl in such a situation the answer would be in a word, No!"
"Well, I haven't the least desire to throw a rub in the way of your marriage to my sister-in-law. You may marry her with my good-will, but you will not prevail upon me to relinquish my nephew into your care."
"But that's another nub!" objected Sir Nugent. "You may say it's the primest nub of all! Her la'ship won't give him up!"
"A man of your address must surely be able to persuade her to do so."
"Well, that's what I thought myself," said Sir Nugent. "Queer creatures, females! Devilish attached to the infantry."