How do you feel?” she asked, trying to fluff his pillow. “Other than terrible, I mean.” He moved his head slightly to the side. It seemed to be a sickly interpretation of a shrug. “Of course you’re feeling terrible,” she clarified, “but is there any change? More terrible? Less terrible?” He made no response. “The same amount of terrible?

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.

Before she knew what she was about, she was jumping about like a crazy woman, yelling, “Yes! Yes! I win!” “You don’t win,” Anthony snapped. “Oh, it feels like I’ve won,” she reveled.

I didn't think I should die but I did not know how I would Live.

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.

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.

Interesting, he later reflected, was perhaps not the correct word.By the time he and Henry arrived back at the house for their midday meal-a scrumptious bowl of hot, sticky porridge-he had mucked out the stable stalls, milked a cow, been pecked by three separate hens, weeded a vegetable garden, and fallen into a trough.