In this room,in this minite,she was his everything

Phillip looked to Eloise. "Perhaps introductions are in order?" "Oh," Eloise said, gulping. "Yes, of course. These are my brothers." "I'd gathered," he said, his voice as dry as dust. She shot him an apologetic look, which, Phillip thought, was really the least she could do after nearly getting him tortured and killed, then turned to her brothers and motioned to each in turn, saying, "Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Gregory. These three," she added, motioning to A, B, and C, "are my elders. This one"—she waved dismissively at Gregory—"is an infant.

I don't know whether to toss you through that window or shake your hand and say 'Well done'" Henry said in a tired voice.

Felicity," Mrs. Featherington interurupted, "why don't you tell Mr. Brdgerton about your watercolors?" For the life of him, Colin couldn't imagine a less interesting topic (except maybe for Phillipa's watercolors), but he nonetheless turned to the youngest Featherington with a friendly smile and asked, "And how are your watercolors?" But Felicity, bless her heart, gave him a rather friendly smile herself and said nothing but, "I imagine they're fine, thank you.

Did you know I have always suspected that men were idiots," Daphne ground out, "but I was never positive until today.

Never," he spat out, "kick a man who is pointing a gun at you.

There were only so many ways a man‟s heart could break, and he had a feeling his couldn‟t survive another puncture.