No words for the passion. No words for the need.No words for the sheer epiphany of the moment.And so, on an otherwise unremarkable Friday afternoon, in the heart of Mayfair, in a quiet drawing room on Mount Street, Colin Bridgerton kissed Penelope Featherington.And it was glorious.

A lot could happen in a week. Just look at the last one.

Oh, Elizabeth," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her mouth, "I love you so much. You must believe me." "I believe you," she said softly, "because in your eyes, I see what I feel in my heart.

He blinked a few times, each motion so slow that he was never quite sure if he’d get his eyes open again. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Funny how he was only just realizing it. Funnier still that he couldn’t seem to summon any concern for her maidenly sensibilities. She might be blushing. He couldn’t tell. It was too dark to see. But it didn’t matter. This was Honoria. She was a good egg. A sensible egg. She wouldn’t be scarred forever by the sight of his chest.

You don't always have to kiss a lot of frogs to recognize a prince when you find one -Henrietta Barett

Turner let his face fell into his hands. "I'm never going to touch her again", he moaned. "He's never going to touch me again!" they heard Miranda roar."Well,it doesn't look like you'll have much argument from your wife on that point", Olivia chirped.

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