Annabel looked down. Her hands were shaking. She couldn't do this. Not yet. She couldn't face the man she'd kissed who happened to be the heir to the man she didn't want to kiss but whos she probably was going to marry. Oh yes, and she could not forget that if she did marry the man she didn't want to kiss, she was likely to provide him with a new heir, thus cutting off the man she did want to kiss.

I keep waiting for the day in which everyone who loves Downton Abbey will realize they were actually watching a historical romance novel.

But Hyacinth Bridgerton, who at ten should have known the least about kisses of anyone, just blinked thoughtfully, and said, " I think it's nice. If they're laughing now, they'll probably be laughing forever.

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.

I‟m going to kill her,” Francesca said to no one in particular. Which was probably a good thing, as there was no one else present. “Who are you talking to?” Hyacinth demanded. “God,” Francesca said baldly. “And I do believe I have been given divine leave to murder you.” “Hmmph,” was Hyacinth‟s response. “If it was that easy, I‟d have asked permission to eliminate half the ton years ago.” Francesca decided just then that not all of Hyacinth‟s statements required a rejoinder. In fact, few of them did.

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.

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