“What is your name?" she asked suddenly, instead. "Your full name?"
"Christopher Whitelaw, Viscount Grantham. Kit, to you, Miss Makepeace."
And then he smiled a smile that made Susannah remember that he'd made a fortune in smuggling, and was wanted for piracy. Perhaps he'd also had an affair with the queen. For it was just that sort of smile: crooked, slow, unnervingly inclusive and intimate. It knew things, that smile. She felt shy suddenly; she was acutely aware of how substantial he was, how hard the muscles under his shirt and trousers were.”