Any man, you'll soon learn, has an insurmountable need to blame someone else when he is made to look a fool.
But looking beautiful isn't, I think, as important as feeling beautiful.
And if you say that's because you lot barged into her home like a herd of mentally deficient sheep, I'm disowning all three of you.
Caroline, do you value your neck?" "Yes, I'm rather fond of it. Why?" "Because if you don't shut up, I'm going to wring it.
But she was already in. Gareth couldn't help but stand back in admiration. Hyacinth Bridgerton was clearly a natural born athlete. Either that or a cat burglar.
He looks like a man.' 'How descriptive,' Susan said in a droll tone. 'Remind me never to advise you to seek work as a novelist.
Oh, very well, do you want to know why I really think you should keep a journal?" She nodded. "Because someday you're going to grow into yourself, and you will be as beautiful as you already are smart.
And I hope you will not think me foolish when I also extend my thanks. Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first. —from Janet Stirling, dowager Countess of Kilmartin, to Michael Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin
Everyone has secrets. Especially me.
I’m trying to embroider.” Hyacinth held up her handiwork as proof. “You’re trying to avoid—” Her mother stopped, blinking. “I say, why does that flower have an ear?” “It’s not an ear.” Hyacinth looked down. “And it’s not a flower.” “Wasn’t it a flower yesterday?” “I have a very creative mind,” Hyacinth ground out, giving the blasted flower another ear. “That,” Violet said, “has never been in any doubt.” Hyacinth looked down at the mess on the fabric. “It’s a tabby cat,” she announced. “I just need to give it a tail.
James - "Are you paying attention or just trying to make me look like an idoit?" Elizabeth - "Oh, I'm definately paying attention. If you look like an idiot it has nothing to do with me.
Men. The day they learned to admit to a mistake was the day they became women.
It was juvenile, he knew, this need to assign blame, but everyone had a right to childish emotions from time to time, didn't they?
There were a lot of things in life to be afraid of, but strangeness ought not be among them.
Love works in mysterious ways.
And, she was able to tell herself with some satisfaction, the man in question - one Colin Bridgerton - felt precisely the same way.... ....His earth shook, his heart leaped, and Penelope knew without a doubt that his breath was taken away as well. For a good ten seconds. Falling off a horse tended to do that to a man.
If he was planning to attack and ravish, he gave no indication of being in a hurry to do so.
Children,” Lady Bridgerton said with a sigh as she retook her seat. “I am never quite certain if I’m glad I had them.
My love has eyes blue as the sky. Her warm, bright smile makes me want to try To give her the world, And when she's curled Up in my arms where I can feel her touch, I realize again that I love her so much. My world has turned from black to white. Kissing in starlight, basking in sunlight, dancing at midnight.' ~John's poem for Belle
You are not going to waltz in here and distract me with a clever phrase and a beguiling smile." "You think my smile is beguiling?
He gave her a sly, sideways look. "Did you bring it?" "My list? Heavens, no. What can you be thinking?" His smile widened. "I brought mine." Daphne gasped. "You didn't!" "I did. Just to torture Mother. I'm going peruse it right in front of her, pull out my quizzing glass—" "You don't have a quizzing glass." He grinned—the slow, devastatingly wicked smile that all Bridgerton males seemed to possess. "I bought one just for this occasion." "Anthony, you absolutely cannot. She will kill you. And then, somehow, she'll find a way to blame me." "I'm counting on it.
Daniel held himself very still, waiting for the wave of jealousy that never came. He was furious with the man who’d taken advantage of her innocence, but he did not feel jealous. He did not need to be her first, he realized. He simply needed to be her last. Her only.
Eloiseis getting married as well.” “Eloise?” Michael asked with some surprise. “Was she even being courted by anyone?” “No,” Francesca said, quickly flipping to the third sheet of her mother‟s letter. “It‟s someone she‟s never met.” “Well, I imagine she‟s met him now,” Michael said in a dry voice.
Felicity," Mrs. Featherington interurupted, "why don't you tell Mr. Brdgerton about your watercolors?" For the life of him, Colin couldn't imagine a less interesting topic (except maybe for Phillipa's watercolors), but he nonetheless turned to the youngest Featherington with a friendly smile and asked, "And how are your watercolors?" But Felicity, bless her heart, gave him a rather friendly smile herself and said nothing but, "I imagine they're fine, thank you.
Every unmarried man is looking for a wife. They just don't always know it.
To call that writing, madam, is an insult to quills and ink across the world.
He stepped toward her, and her heart just ached from it. His face was so handsome, and so dear, and so perfectly wonderfully familiar. She knew the slope of his cheeks, and the exact shade of his eys, brownish near the iris, melting into green at the edge. And his mouth-she knew that mouth, the look of it, the feel of it. She knew his smile, and she knew his frown, and she knew- she knew far to much.
And then, well . . . He might have slept for a bit. He rather hoped he was sleeping, because he was quite certain he’d seen a six-foot rabbit hopping through his bedchamber, and if that wasn’t a dream, they were all in very big trouble. Although really, it wasn’t the rabbit that was so dangerous as much as the giant carrot he was swinging about like a mace. That carrot would feed an entire village.
People will think you're courting me.' 'Nonsense, everyone knows I don't court respectable women.
It was the one dream he'd never permitted himself to consider.
Don't settle. Know what you want and reach for it. And if you don't know what you want, be patient. The answers will come to you in time, and you may find that your heart s desire has been right under your nose all the while.
I can imagine no greater bliss than to lie about, reading novels all day.
He’d spent his life being a perfect gentleman. He’d never been a flirt. He’d never been a rogue. He hated being the center of attention, but by God, he wanted to be the center of her attention. He wanted to do the wrong thing, the bad thing. He wanted to pull her into his arms and carry her to her bed. He wanted to peel every last inch of her clothing from her body, and then he wanted to worship her. He wanted to show her all the things he wasn’t sure he knew how to say.
Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.
Of course none of those men was suitable. Half were after your fortune, and as for the other half—well, you would have reduced them to tears within a month.” “Such tenderness for your youngest child,” Hyacinth muttered. “It quite undoes me.
Weakness never got anyone anywhere.
I can't imagine a romance novel published today where the hero rapes the heroine and she falls in love with him.
When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.
I was told once that the most important part of a fight is making sure your opponent looks worse than you do when you’re through.
Is there anything else I can do to see to your comfort, Miss Trent?" Perriwick inquired. "She's fine," Blake growled. "Clearly, she--" "Perriwick, isn't the west wing on fire?" Perriwick blinked, sniffed the air, and stared at his employer in dismay. "I do not understand sir.
Nonetheless, I can't help but be flattered that you noticed the latest addition to my collection," he said. She rolled her eyes. "Because personal injuries are such a dignified thing to collect." "Are all governesses so sarcastic?
Never," he spat out, "kick a man who is pointing a gun at you.
I love you with everything I am, everything I've been, and everything I hope to be. I love you with my past, and I love you for my future. I love you for the children we'll have and for the years we'll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles and even more, for every one of your smiles.
Turn right up ahead," he directed. "It'll take us directly to my cottage." She did as he asked. "Does your cottage have a name?" "My Cottage." "I might have known," she muttered. He smirked. Quite a feat, in her opinion, since he looked sick as a dog. "I'm not kidding," he said. Sure enough, in another minute they pulled up in front of an elegant country house, complete with a small, unobtrusive sign in front reading, MY COTTAGE
Your heart is free now." "No," he whispered. "It's yours.
The look Anthony shot at his sister was so comically malevolent Simon nearly laughed. He managed to restrain himself, but mostly just because he was fairly certain that any show of humor would cause Anthony's fist to lose its battle with his brain, with Simon's face emerging as the conflict's primary casualty.
I cannot feel like a duchess in my mother’s sitting room.” “What do you feel like, then?” “Hmmm.” She took a sip of her tea. “Just Daphne Bridgerton, I suppose. It’s difficult to shed the surname in this clan. In spirit, that is.” “I hope that is a compliment,” Lady Bridgerton remarked. Daphne just smiled at her mother. “I shall never escape you, I’m afraid.” She turned to Gareth. “There is nothing like one’s family to make one feel like one has never grown up.
And what renders him so unmarriageable?” Eloise asked. Francesca leveled a serious stare at her older sister. Eloise was mad if she thought she should set her cap for Michael. “Well?” Eloise prodded. “He could never remain faithful to one woman,” Fran-cesca said, “and I doubt you‟d be willing to put up with infidelities.” “No,” Eloise murmured, “not unless he‟d be willing to put up with severe bodily injury.
Mother,” Hyacinth said with a great show of solicitude, “you know I love you dearly—” “Why is it,” Violet pondered, “that I have come to expect nothing good when I hear a sentence beginning in that manner?
Above all else, be true to your heart. When you marry, whether it be a marquis or an estate manager (or both!), it will be for life. You must go where your heart leads and never forget that love is the most precious gift of all. Money and social status are poor substitutes for a warm, tender embrace, and there is little in life more fulfilling than the joy of loving and knowledge that you are loved in return.
You’re going to be my grandmother.” “You silly child. In my heart, I’ve been your grandmother for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to make it official.
He would not give her up,he could not.For the first time in his life he'd found someone who filled all the empty spaces in his heart
sometimes there are reasons for our fears that we can’t quite explain. Sometimes it’s just something we feel in our bones, something we know to be true, but would sound foolish to anyone else.
In this room,in this minite,she was his everything
If you want to know if a gentleman loves you,” her mother said, “there is only one true way to be sure.” “It’s in his kiss,” her mother whispered. “It’s all there, in his kiss.
James started to laugh. His chin hurt where she'd smacked him twice, his foot throbbed where she'd stepped on it, and his entire body felt as if he'd swum through a rosebush, which wasn't as far off the truth as it sounded. Yet still he started to laugh.
If one didn't have love, was it better, then, to be alone?
There was a huge difference between dislike and disregard.
He said he loved me,” she whispered. Daniel swallowed, and he had the strangest sensation, almost a premonition of what it must like to be a parent. Someday, God willing, he’d have a daughter, and that daughter would look like the woman standing in front of him, and if ever she looked at him with that bewildered expression, whispering, “He said he loved me . . .” Nothing short of murder would be an acceptable response.
He shook his head in wonder. "You are magnificent." "I keep telling everyone that," she said with a nonchalant shrug, "but you seem to be the only one to believe me.
It was heaven. Forget angels, forget St. Peter and glittering harpsichords. Heaven was a dance in the arms of one's true love.
So he decided to stay out of it and instead turned back to Lady Bridgerton, who was, as it happened, the closest person to him, anyway. “And how are you this afternoon?” he asked. Lady Bridgerton gave him a very small smile as she handed him his cup of tea. “Smart man,” she murmured. “It’s self-preservation, really,” he said noncommittally. “Don’t say that. They wouldn’t hurt you.” “No, but I’m sure to be injured in the cross fire.
She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.
...I do not tell you often enough, dear Mother, how very grateful I am that I am yours. It is a rare parent who would offer a child such latitude and understanding. It is an even rarer one who calls a daughter friend. I do love you, dear Mama.
I also think he is given to disguises...Sometimes he wears spectacles and sometimes he does not. And twice he has worn an extremely peculiar hat. Inside.
Michael nodded tersely, eyeing a table across the room. It was empty. So empty. So joyfully, blessedly empty. He could picture himself a very happy man at that table. "Not feeling very conversational this evening, are we?" Colin asked, breaking into his (admittedly tame) fantasies.
There are moments in a woman's life when her heart flips in her chest, when the world suddenly seems uncommonly pink and perfect, when a symphony can be heard in the tinkle of a doorbell.
You should be thankful that dark colors suit you. Not everyone wears black well." "Why, Lady Olivia, is that a compliment?" "Not so much as a compliment to you as an insult to everyone else," she assured him. "Thanks heaven for that. I don't think I would know how to conduct myself in a world in which you offered compliments.
Hyacinth,” Lady Bridgerton said in a vaguely disapproving voice, “do try to speak in complete sentences.” Hyacinth looked at her mother with a surprised expression. “Biscuits. Are. Good.” She cocked her head to the side. “Noun. Verb. Adjective.” “Hyacinth.” “Noun. Verb. Adjective.” Colin said, wiping a crumb from his grinning face. “Sentence. Is. Correct.
Do I look like a mess?” she asked. He nodded. “But you’re my mess,” he whispered.
In her heart she longed for this man, dreamed of a life that could never be.
Have you seen Frances?” He tilted his head to the right. “I believe she’s off rooting about in the bushes.” Anne followed his gaze uneasily. “Rooting?” “She told me she was practicing for the next play.” Anne blinked at him, not following. “For when she gets to be a unicorn.” “Oh, of course.” She chuckled. “She is rather tenacious, that one.
Stirlings of old had been so damned besotted with their newfound earldom that they couldn't think to put any other name on anything...It was a wonder he didn't drink Kilmartin Tea and sit on a Kilmartin-style chair. In fact, he probably would be doing just that if his grandmother had found a way to manage it without actually taking the family into trade.
Heartache, Daphne eventually learned, never really went away; it just dulled. The sharp, stabbing pain that one felt with each breath eventually gave way to a blunter, lower ache—the kind that one could almost—but never quite—ignore.
Just be quiet and accept the praise.
Olivia: You didn't even know I was there! Harry: Excuse me, yes I did.
As his hands moved to his trousers, he saw that she was pulling the bedsheets over her. "Don't," he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Her eyes met his, and he said, "I'll be your blanket".
I vow to spend the rest of my life keeping your hands and feet warm.
He sucked his lips in an attempt not to laugh. "Aren't you Spanish?" She raised one arm in a salute. "Viva la Queen Isabella!" "I see. Then why are you speaking with a French accent?
She had been born for this man, and she had spent so many years trying to accept the fact that he had been born for someone else.
He smiled, and suddenly she knew that his words were true. Everything would be all right. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Tragedy couldn't coexist in a world with one of Colin's smiles.
The two of you together are a menace,” Penelope remarked. “My aim in life,” Lady Danbury announced, “is to be a menace to as great a number of people as possible, so I shall take that as the highest of compliments, Mrs. Bridgerton.” “Why is it,” Penelope wondered, “that you only call me Mrs. Bridgerton when you are opining in a grand fashion?” “Sounds better that way,” Lady D said, punctuating her remark with a loud thump of her cane.
I had to do something," she said. "I couldn't just sit and wait for life to happen to me any longer.
No man of any intelligence would pretend to know a female mind.
It suddenly made sense. Only twice in his life had he felt this inexplicable, almost mystical attraction to a woman. He’d thought it remarkable, to have found two, when in his heart he’d always believed there was only one perfect woman out there for him. His heart had been right. There was only one.
And so Harry became proficient in the task of cleaning up vomit.
Don’t look so upset,” Hyacinth said, once it was just the two of them again. “You’re quite a catch.” He looked at her assessingly. “Is one meant to say such things quite so directly?” She shrugged. “Not to men one is trying to impress.” “Touché, Miss Bridgerton.” She sighed happily. “My three favorite words.” Of that, he had no doubt.
He was a puzzle. And Hyacinth hated puzzles. Well, no, in truth she loved them. Provided, of course, that she solved them.
She needed him to be him. Even if he could not be hers.
Love's about finding the one person who makes your heart complete. Who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. Its about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing all the way to your bones that she's simply the best person you've ever known.
When you walk into a room,” he said softly, “the air changes.
Elizabeth, you resemble nothing so much as a hen trying to hatch a book.
I won't be satisfied with anything less than everything.
Francesca: It's still a bit cold yet. Michael: Never stopped John and me. Francesca: Yes, well, you're Scottish. Your blood circulates quite well half frozen.
Because if he looked like he was unaffected by her smile, then she would not realize that, in actuality, he was in an utter panic because somewhere deep down inside he’d realized that his life had just changed forever.
No words for the passion. No words for the need.No words for the sheer epiphany of the moment.And so, on an otherwise unremarkable Friday afternoon, in the heart of Mayfair, in a quiet drawing room on Mount Street, Colin Bridgerton kissed Penelope Featherington.And it was glorious.
I don't know whether to toss you through that window or shake your hand and say 'Well done'" Henry said in a tired voice.
Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron,” Sebastian said approvingly. “Excellent choice.” “You have read this?” Alexei asked. “It’s not as good as Miss Davenport and the Dark Marquis, of course, but worlds better than Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel.” Harry found himself rendered speechless. “I’m reading Miss Truesdale and the Silent Gentleman right now.” “Silent?” Harry echoed. “There is a noticeable lack of dialogue,” Sebastian confirmed.
I thought you wanted food," she gasped. "I do," he murmured, tugging on the bodice of her dress. "But I want you more.
Besides," he said breezily, "were it not for misunderstandings, we would be sadly lacking in great literature." She looked at him questioningly. "Where would Romeo and Juliet be?" "Alive.
You have a mother?" He quirked a brow. "Did you think mine was some sort of divine birth? My father was a remarkable man, but even he was not that talented.
It wasn‟t even desire. It was far more than that. It was love. Love. With a capital L and swirly script and hearts and flowers and whatever else the angels— and yes, all those annoying little cupids—wished to use for embellishment.
In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one's been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one's life will never be the same.
Darling," he said distractedly,"about the moon..." "Yes?" "I don't think it matters whether you want it or not." "What are you talking about?" "The moon. I think it's yours." Victoria yawned, not bothering to open her eyes. "Fine. i'm glad to have it." "But--" Robert shook his head. He was growing fanciful. the moon didn't belong to his wife. It didn't follow her, protect her. It certainly didn't wink at anybody. But he stared out the window the rest of the way home, just in case
Rehearsels, actually." "Rehearsals?" "For the-" Oh,no. "-musicale." The Smythe-Smith musical.It finished off what the Crusades had begun.There wasn't a man alive who could maintain a romantic thought when faced with the memory-or the threat-of a Smythe-Smith musicale.
Where is he? Bridgerton!" he bellowed. Three chestnut heads swiveled in his direction. Simon stomped across the grass, murder in his eyes. "I meant the idiot Bridgerton." "That, I believe," Anthony said mildly, tilting his chin toward Colin, "would refer to you.
The only words I'll allow from your mouth are, 'Oh, Gareth,' and 'Yes, Gareth.'" "What about 'More, Gareth'?" "He almost kept a straith face. "That will be acceptable.
And for the rest of the night, he couldn’t quite forget the smell of her perfume. Or maybe it was the soft sound of her chuckle. Or maybe it was neither of those things. Maybe it was just her.
Suddenly it was too hard to be in his presence, too painful to know that he would belong to someone else.
A lot could happen in a week. Just look at the last one.
Society is capricious and rewards the bad as often as the good. But it never rewards the quiet.
Gareth turned to Gregory. “Your sister will be safe with me,” he said. “I give you my vow.” “Oh, I have no worries on that score,” Gregory said with a bland smile. “The real question is—will you be safe with her?” It was a good thing, Gareth later reflected, that Hyacinth had already quit the room to fetch her coat and her maid. She probably would have killed her brother on the spot.
A duel, a duel, a duel. Is there anything more exciting, more romantic ... or more utterly moronic?
His brows rose. “And how is it that you have come to be such an expert on scrapes and bruises?” “I’m a governess,” she said. Because really, that ought to be explanation enough.
Sometimes Hen...I think I would give my life just for one of your smiles.
When the dead body said, "Good evening," Annabel had to face the grim conclusion that it wasn't as dead as she'd hoped.
No one knows as well as I how much nonsense is printed in books.
Not that I wish to give you any ammunition, but the sad fact of it is-most men are sheep. Where one goes, the rest will follow. And didn't you say you wished to be married?' 'Not to someone who follows you as the lead sheep.
Let me drive," she said, reaching for the reins. He turned to her in disbelief. "This is a phaeton, not a single-horse wagon." Sophie fought the urge to throttle him. His nose was running, his eyes were red, he couldn't stop coughing, and still he found the energy to act like an arrogant peacock. "I assure you," she said slowly, "that I know how to drive a team of horses.
It was one of those things that had to be experienced to be understood
You always get more respect when you don't have a happy ending.
He didn’t know where the thought had come from, or what strange corner of his brain had come to that conclusion, because he was quite certain it would be nearly impossible to live with her, but somehow he knew that it wouldn’t be at all difficult to love her.
Not that I knew who you were until last month. But now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go." "You're not?" Blake stared at her in irritated confusion. What was her game? "Do you think I'm an idiot?" he spat out. "No," she said. "I've just escaped from a den of idiots, so I'm well familiar with the breed, and you're something else entirely. I am, however, hoping you're not a terribly good shot.
Anthony looked down at his evil clutches -- hands, he reminded himself, hands -- and grinned anew.
Love was the best present of all.
