He'd been waiting for a love fraught with passion and drama; it hadn't even occurred to him that true love might be something that was utterly comfortable and just plain easy.

And if that weren't bad enough, the next sound he heard was a loud click. The damned woman had locked him out. She'd taken all the food and locked him out. "You'll pay for this!" he yelled at the door. "Do be quiet," came the muffled reply. "I'm eating.

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.

You always get more respect when you don't have a happy ending.

What?" "You're so neat," she said, looking almost embarrassed. He glanced pointedly over his shoulder. "There are four hundred on the other side of this door." "But you're ruining me." "I can't do it neatly?

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.

She hated that she was still so desperate for a glimpse of him, but it had been this way for years.