Don’t tell me your name. It’s likely to awaken my conscience, and that’s the last thing we want.

Interesting, he later reflected, was perhaps not the correct word.By the time he and Henry arrived back at the house for their midday meal-a scrumptious bowl of hot, sticky porridge-he had mucked out the stable stalls, milked a cow, been pecked by three separate hens, weeded a vegetable garden, and fallen into a trough.

Don’t tell me your name. It’s likely to awaken my conscience, and that’s the last thing we want.

I would give the world to have one more person for whom I would lay down my life.

I shall have one, too," he told her. "So that you don't feel alone." She tried not to smile. "That is most generous of you." "I am quite certain it is my gentlemanly duty." "To eat cake?" "It is one of the more appealing of my gentlemanly duties," he allowed.

She tried to remind herself that beauty was only skin deep, but that didn't offer any helpful excuses when she was berating herself for never knowing what to say to people. There was nothing more depressing than an ugly girl with no personality.

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.