A whirlwind of parties, hairdos and horses hails the return of one of fiction’s most lusted-after characters
There is a single word, about three quarters of the way through this book, spoken at the heights of ecstasy by a 59-year-old man to a 30-year-old woman, that is so appalling, so extraordinary and so unutterably Jilly Cooper you can’t imagine anyone on the receiving end of it not immediately dissolving in horrified laughter, kicking the offender out of bed, and calling the OED.
Unless, of course, the man in question was Rupert Campbell-Black.
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