Anthony looked down at his evil clutches -- hands, he reminded himself, hands -- and grinned anew.

Daphne," he said with controlled gentleness, "what is wrong?" She sat down opposite him and placed a hand on his cheek. "I'm so insensitive," she whispered. "I should have known. I should never have said anything." "Should have known what?" he ground out. Her hand fell away. "That you can't—that you couldn't—" "Can't what?" She looked down at her lap, where her hands were attempting to wring each other to shreds. "Please don't make me say it," she said. 'This," Simon muttered, "has got to be why men avoid marriage.

I thought you wanted food," she gasped. "I do," he murmured, tugging on the bodice of her dress. "But I want you more.

Just be quiet and accept the praise.

I knew nothing but love and devotion when I was growing up. Trust me, it makes everything easier.

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.

If he was planning to attack and ravish, he gave no indication of being in a hurry to do so.