Milk?” Lady Bridgerton asked. “Thank you,” Gareth replied. “No sugar, if you please.” “Hyacinth takes hers with three,” Gregory said, reaching for a piece of shortbread. “Why,” Hyacinth ground out, “would he care?” “Well,” Gregory replied, taking a bite and chewing, “he is your special friend.

That was very rude of me.” “Think nothing of it. You’ve done worse.

Anthony looked down at his evil clutches -- hands, he reminded himself, hands -- and grinned anew.

This thing between them, this bond—it wasn’t just passion, and it wasn’t wicked. It was love, and it was divine.

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.

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.

In her heart she longed for this man, dreamed of a life that could never be.