Weakness Never Got Anyone Anywhere.

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.

She Smelled Like England, Of Soft Rain And Sun-kissed Meadows. And She Felt Like The Best Kind Of Heaven. He Wanted To Wrap Himself Around, Bury Himself Within Her, And Stay There For All Of His Days. He Hadn’t Had A Drop To Drink In Three Years, But He Was Intoxicated Now, Bubbling With A Lightness He’d Never Thought To Feel Again.

No One Knows As Well As I How Much Nonsense Is Printed In Books.

Caroline Trent Hadn't Meant To Shoot Percival Prewitt, But She Had, And Now He Was Dead. Or At Least She Thought He Was Dead.

I Cannot Feel Like A Duchess In My Mother’s Sitting Room.” “what Do You Feel Like, Then?” “hmmm.” She Took A Sip Of Her Tea. “just Daphne Bridgerton, I Suppose. It’s Difficult To Shed The Surname In This Clan. In Spirit, That Is.” “i Hope That Is A Compliment,” Lady Bridgerton Remarked. Daphne Just Smiled At Her Mother. “i Shall Never Escape You, I’m Afraid.” She Turned To Gareth. “there Is Nothing Like One’s Family To Make One Feel Like One Has Never Grown Up.