conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled The Golden Season about Lydia, Ned, Starred with the genre: Romance, Historical.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: *Starred Review* Lydia Eastlake has been the toast of the town, but that is about to come to an abrupt end. In retrospect Lydia realizes she should have read the letters from her banker more carefully, but she never thought her considerable fortune would ever run out. Now she is left with one option if she doesnt want to learn how to economize: find a wealthy man to marry before word of her financial reversal gets out. After meeting kind and sexy Captain Ned Lockton, Lydia thinks she may have found her perfect match, but what she doesnt know is that Ned, whose own family is rapidly draining the ancestral coffers, is hunting for a spouse, too, and only heiresses need apply. RITA Award-winner the author works her own irresistible brand of alchemy by taking superbly complex characters and an enthralling plot spiced with unexpected twists and deftly spinning the whole thing into literary gold. Delightfully witty and dazzlingly imaginative. --John Charles
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this story.. End with the sentence '
  Since she'd come of age three years ago, Lady Lydia had not been under any single man's supervision as daughter, sister, niece, wife, widow, or ward.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Golden Season
  Even Terwilliger, no follower of fashion—his three grown daughters' attempts to educate him notwitstanding—could appreciate Lydia Eastlake's dash. Ecru- fluted silk trimmed the emerald green pelisse covering her elegant and well-curved figure, while her shimmering burnt-caramel-colored curls peeked out from beneath a spring bonnet bedecked with feathers, fronds, and flowers. The glossy locks framed a face noted for the perfect proportion of her small, angular jaw, straight nose, arched dark brows, and high cheekbones.
  And then there were the eyes: long, dark lashed, and exotically tilted, they were a color so vividly, deeply blue that they appeared purple. Strong men, it was said, could lose themselves in the thrall of her eyes.
  Robert Terwilliger was not a strong man. And it would take a very strong man indeed to rein in the likes of Lady Lydia Eastlake. She was a headstrong, self-indulgent voluptuary, but also absolutely captivating, utterly charming, and infectiously merry. But worse, she was completely independent.
  Since she'd come of age three years ago, Lady Lydia had not been under any single man's supervision as daughter, sister, niece, wife, widow, or ward.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me four more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He swallowed, looked away, then back at her. He squared his shoulders slightly and broadened his stance, his hands still clasped firmly behind his back, like a captain about to enter close quarters with an enemy vessel. "My circumstances are not felicitous."
  He nodded. "My name is an old and honorable one, which I have always borne with pride. Josten Hall, my family seat, has been a symbol of my family's nobility and endurance. For a dozen generations, it has elicited admiration and approbation from all who have visited there." He looked at her. "I am telling you this because I am hoping you might understand my attachment to what is just stone and mortar and earth."
  She had no warning. One moment she was standing facing him, the next her knees buckled and she was landing in a puff of material on the grass. He leaned over and held out his hand, but she was too intent on getting an answer to her question and ignored it.
  His hand dropped and he shifted back into that battle stance. "I am afraid that other than my name, massive financial obligations, and a disastrously profligate family, I have nothing to offer any young lady"—he paused, swallowed—"except myself."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The young lady, after a brief look of bewilderment, rubbed her palms briskly together as if preparing for some physical exertion and declared, "Per diem. Non sequitur." Her hand rose toward Grammy Beadle, who was now fully engaged in cringing backward.
  With a shriek, Grammy Beadle lifted up her skirts, displaying a pair of crooked shanks encircled by improbable red garters, turned tail and shot off down the street, disappearing into a side alley.
  The young lady, after a glance overhead at a sky now completely free of any shadows, ravenlike or otherwise, walked calmly over to her companion. The Little Firkians gave one another nods of approval and, without a single word to their champion and defender, went back to gossiping, eating, and drinking.
  At the same time, a handsome and elegant young man let a curtain drop back down across the pub window through which he'd been watching.
  Before he could reply, the inn's rotund barkeep arrived at their table bearing two tankards of ale. "That be Amelie Chase," he said. "Our witch."