When you walk into a room,” he said softly, “the air changes.

Your heart is free now." "No," he whispered. "It's yours.

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.

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?

Men. The day they learned to admit to a mistake was the day they became women.

A man with charm is an entertaining thing, and a man with looks is, ofcourse, a sight to behold, but a man with honor - ah, he is the one, dear reader, to which young ladies should flock.

You are always looking at people like this.” And then she made a face, one he couldn’t possibly begin to describe. “If I ever look like that,” he said dryly, “precisely like that, to be more precise, I give you leave to shoot me.