Where is he? Bridgerton!" he bellowed. Three chestnut heads swiveled in his direction. Simon stomped across the grass, murder in his eyes. "I meant the idiot Bridgerton." "That, I believe," Anthony said mildly, tilting his chin toward Colin, "would refer to you.

What happened to your face?" Harriet asked. "It was a misunderstanding," Daniel said smoothly, wondering how long it might take for his bruises to heal. He did not think he was particularly vain, but the questions were growing tiresome. "A misunderstanding?" Elizabeth echoed. "With an anvil?" "Oh, stop," Harriet admonished her. "I think he looks very dashing." "As if he dashed into an anvil." "Pay no attention," Harriet said to him. "She lacks imagination.

There was a huge difference between dislike and disregard.

Why don’t you purchase an Italian dictionary? I will assume the expense.” “I have one,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s very good. Half the words are missing.” “Half?” “Well, some,” she amended. “But truly, that’s not the problem.” He blinked, waiting for her to continue. She did. Of course. “I don’t think Italian is the author’s native tongue,” she said. “The author of the dictionary?” he queried. “Yes. It’s not terribly idiomatic.

In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one's been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one's life will never be the same.

A duel, a duel, a duel. Is there anything more exciting, more romantic ... or more utterly moronic?

Daniel immediately knelt at her side, pulling her close. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “Everything is going to be all right.” Anne shook her head. “No, it’s not.” She looked up, her eyes shining with love. “It’s going to be so much better.