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.

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?

Caroline stamped her foot in frustration, but when it landed, it landed on something considerably less flat than the floor. "Owww!" he yelled. Oh! His foot!Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry , she mouthed.I didn't mean it. "If you think I can understand that," he growled, "you're crazier than I'd originally thought.

I knew nothing but love and devotion when I was growing up. Trust me, it makes everything easier.

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

I can imagine no greater bliss than to lie about, reading novels all day.

It was heaven. Forget angels, forget St. Peter and glittering harpsichords. Heaven was a dance in the arms of one's true love.