Julia Quinn

“Blake looked around and gulped. He'd forgotten about the mess on the floor. Chamber pot shards, hisshaving kit, a towel or two..."I... ah..." It seemed to him that it was far easierto lie for the sake of national security than it was to hisolder sister."Is that a bar of soap stuck to the wall?" Penelope asked."Um... yes, it appears to be.”

“Perriwickturned to Penelope as he set the tray down on a table. "If I might be so bold, my lady-""Perriwick!" Blake roared. "If I hear the phrase 'if I might be so bold' one more time, as God is mywitness, I'm going to toss you into the channel!""Oh dear," Penelope said. "Perhaps he does have the fever, after all.Perriwick , what do you think?"The butler reached for Blake's forehead, only to have his hand nearly bitten off. "Touch me and die,"Blake snarled.”

“To call that writing, madam, is an insult to quills and ink across the world.”

“And if that weren't bad enough, the next sound he heard was a loud click.The damned woman had locked him out. She'd taken all the food and locked him out."You'll pay for this!" he yelled at the door."Do be quiet," came the muffled reply. "I'm eating.”

“The girl doesn’t need a violin,” he added. “She needs to haveher hands bound so she can never touch an instrument again.”

“Iris was interrupted by a resounding crash. Or not exactly acrash. More like a splintering sound. With a few pops. And twangs.“What was that?” Iris asked.“I don’t know.” Honoria craned her neck. “It sounded like—”“Oh, Honoria!” they heard Daisy shriek. “Your violin!”“What?” Honoria walked slowly toward the commotion, notquite able to put two and two together.“Oh, my heavens,” Iris said abruptly, her hand coming to hermouth. She lay a restraining hand on Honoria, as if to say—It’sbetter if you don’t look.“What is going on? I—” Honoria’s jaw went slack.“Lady Honoria!” Lady Danbury barked. “So sorry about yourviolin.”Honoria only blinked, staring down at the mangled remains ofher instrument. “What? How . . . ?”Lady Danbury shook her head with what Honoria suspectedwas exaggerated regret. “I have no idea. The cane, you know. Imust have knocked it off the table.”Honoria felt her mouth opening and closing, but no sound wasemerging. Her violin didn’t look as if it had been knocked off atable. Honestly, Honoria was at a loss as to how it could have gotinto such a state. It was absolutely wrecked. Every string hadsnapped, pieces of wood were completely detached, and the chinrest was nowhere to be seen.Clearly, it had been trampled by an elephant.”

“I suppose. I do hope Charlotte thinks to give her an extra dayoff this week.” Lady Winstead gave a little nod, as if agreeing withherself. “I believe I will go find her right now and make thatsuggestion. It is the least we can do. Miss Wynter truly saved theday.”Honoria and Iris watched her leave, then Iris said, “I suppose itdepends upon your definition of the word ‘saved.”

“Let me try,” he said, and he took the ends and positionedhimself in front of her mirror.She watched him for about two seconds before declaring,“You’re going to have to go home.”His eyes did not leave the reflection of his neckcloth in themirror. “I haven’t even got past the first knot.”“And you’re not going to.”He gave her a supercilious look, brow quirked and all.“You’re never going to get it right,” she pronounced. “I mustsay, between this and your boots, I am revising my opinion on theimpracticalities of couture, male versus female.”“Really?”Her gaze dropped to his boots, polished to a perfect shine. “Noone has ever had to take a knife to my footwear.”“I wear nothing that buttons up the back,” he countered.“True, but I may choose a dress that buttons in the front,whereas you cannot go out and about without a neckcloth.”

“I had the pleasure of dining with yourbrother.”“Gregory? Really? You’d classify it as a pleasure?” But he wasgrinning as he said it, and Honoria could instantly picture what lifemust be like in the Bridgerton household: a great deal of teasing anda great deal of love.“He was most gracious to me,” she said with a smile.“Shall I tell you a secret?” Mr. Bridgerton murmured, andHonoria decided that in his case, it was right and proper to listen togossip—he was an incredible flirt.“Must I keep the secret?” she asked, leaning forward ever-soslightly.“Definitely not.”She gave him a sunny smile. “Then yes, please.”Mr. Bridgerton leaned in, just about as far as she had done. “Hehas been known to catapult peas across the supper table.”Honoria gave him a very somber nod. “Has he done thisrecently?”“Not too recently, no.”She pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. It was lovelyto witness this type of sibling teasing. There used to be so much of itin her home, although most of the time she’d been but a witness.She was so much younger than the rest of her siblings; in allhonesty, most of the time they’d probably just forgotten to teaseher.“I have but one question, Mr. Bridgerton.”He cocked his head.“How was this catapult constructed?”He grinned. “Simple spoon, Lady Honoria. But in Gregory’sdevious hands, there was nothing simple about it.”

“Honoria couldn’t help but watch her make her way over toDaisy, and Mr. Bridgerton said, “Don’t worry, she’s mostlyharmless.”“My cousin Daisy?” she asked dubiously.“No,” he replied, momentarily nonplussed. “Lady Danbury.”Honoria looked past him to Daisy and Lady Danbury. “Is shedeaf?”“Your cousin Daisy?”“No, Lady Danbury.”“I don’t believe so.”“Oh.” Honoria winced. “That’s too bad. She might be by thetime Daisy is through with her.“That’s not going to end well,” he murmured.Honoria could do nothing but shake her head and murmur,“No.”“Is your cousin fond of her toes?”Honoria blinked in confusion. “I believe so, yes.”“She’ll want to watch that cane, then.”Honoria looked back just in time to see Daisy let out a smallshriek as she tried to jump back. She was not successful with thelatter; Lady Danbury’s cane had her pinned rather firmly.”

“Honoria nodded and was about to say something utterlyforgettable when she saw that his hand had been bandaged.“I hope your injury is not severe,” she said politely.“Oh, this?” he held up his hand. His fingers were free to waggle,but the rest of it looked rather like a mitt. “It’s nothing. Analtercation with a letter opener.”“Well, please do be careful of infection,” Honoria said,somewhat more forcefully than was de rigueur. “If it grows red, orswollen, or even worse, yellow, then you must see a doctor atonce.”“Green?” he quipped.“I beg your pardon?”“You listed so many colors about which I must be wary.”For a moment Honoria could only stare. Wound infection wasnot a laughing matter.“Lady Honoria?” he murmured.She decided to proceed as if he’d said nothing. “Mostimportantly, you must watch for reddish streaks spreading from thewound. Those are the worst.”He blinked, but if he was startled by the turn of theconversation, he did not show it. Instead he looked down at hishand with a curious eye and said, “How red?”“I beg your pardon?”“How red do the streaks have to be before I must worry?”“How do you know so much about medicine?” Lady Danburycut in.“Do you know, I’m not sure how red,” Honoria told Mr.Bridgerton. “I would think anything stripey ought to be a cause foralarm.”

“He was not quite sure how to phrase it, so he finally went with,haltingly, “I don’t enjoy being at the center of attention.”Her head tilted to the side, she regarded him for a long momentbefore saying, “No. You don’t.” And then: “You were always atree.”“I beg your pardon?”Her eyes grew sentimental. “When we performed our awfulpantomimes as children. You were always a tree.”“I never had to say anything.”“And you always got to stand at the back.”He felt himself smile, lopsided and true. “I rather liked being atree.”“You were a very good tree.” She smiled then, too—a radiant,wondrous thing. “The world needs more trees.”

“Honoria Smythe-Smith,” Sarah said, positively grinning, “I amso proud of you.”“I would ask why,” Honoria replied warily, “but I’m not sure Iwant to know the answer”

“She looked outover the crowd, murmuring, “I wonder if there are any gentlemenhere who might be willing to marry me before Wednesday”

“It’s a curse, really,” Lady Danbury said. “I’m the only person Iknow my age who has perfect hearing.”“Most would call that a blessing.”She snorted. “Not with that musicale looming over the horizon.”

“Go, go,” she urged. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find someother poor unsuspecting fool to torture. And yes, before you feelthe need to protest, I did just call you a fool.”“That, I think, may be the one privilege that consanguinity doesallow.”She cackled with delight. “You are a prince among nephews,”she proclaimed.“Your second favorite,” he murmured.“You’ll rise to the top of the list if you find a way to destroy herviolin.”

“Consanguinity has never seemed to be one of yourprerequisites for plain speaking.”“Touché,” she returned, giving him a single nod of approval. “Iwas merely pointing out that you are quite stealthy in your goodhumor. This I applaud wholeheartedly.”“I am aquiver with glee.”

“She thumped her weapon (others might call it a cane, but heknew better) against the floor. “Fell off your horse?”“No, I—”“Tripped down the stairs? Dropped a bottle on your foot?” Herexpression grew sly. “Or does it involve a woman?”He fought the urge to cross his arms. She was looking up at himwith a bit of a smirk. She liked poking fun at her companions; she’donce told him that the best part of growing old was that she couldsay anything she wanted with impunity.He leaned down and said with great gravity, “Actually, I wasstabbed by my valet.”It was, perhaps, the only time in his life he’d managed to stunher into silence.Her mouth fell open, her eyes grew wide, and he would haveliked to have thought that she even went pale, but her skin had suchan odd tone to begin with that it was hard to say. Then, after amoment of shock, she let out a bark of laughter and said, “No,really. What happened?”“Exactly as I said. I was stabbed.” He waited a moment, thenadded, “If we weren’t in the middle of a ballroom, I’d show you.”“You don’t say?” Now she was really interested. She leaned in,eyes alight with macabre curiosity. “Is it gruesome?”“It was,” he confirmed.She pressed her lips together, and her eyes narrowed as sheasked, “And where is your valet now?”“At Chatteris House, likely nicking a glass of my best brandy.”She let out another one of her staccato barks of laughter.”

“Listen to me,” Iris said again. “If we attempt this piece, we willbe massacred.”“By whom?” Daisy asked.Iris just looked at her, completely unable to articulate a reply.“By the music,” Sarah put in.“Oh, you’ve decided to join the discussion, then,” Honoria said.“Don’t be sarcastic,” Sarah snipped.“Where were the two of you when I was trying to picksomething out?”“They were moving the piano.”“Daisy!” all three of them yelled.“What did I say?” Daisy demanded.“Try not to be so literal,” Iris snapped.”

“It was going to be embarrassing regardless of what music theychose, but Honoria didn’t have the heart to say it to her face.On the other hand, whichever piece they performed, they wouldsurely butcher it past recognition. Could a difficult piece playedbadly be that much worse than a slightly less difficult piece playedbadly?”

“Daisy said boldly. “Nothingventured, nothing gained.”“Yes, but it is a wise man who understands his limits.”“Who said that?” Daisy asked.“I did,” Honoria answered impatiently”

“We are going to pick up our instruments and play Mozart,”Honoria announced. “And we are going to do it with smiles on ourfaces.”“I have no idea what any of you are talking about,” Daisy said.“I will play,” Sarah said, “but I make no promises about asmile.” She looked at the piano and blinked. “And I am not pickingup my instrument.”Iris actually giggled. Then her eyes lit up. “I could help you.”“Pick it up?”Iris’s grin grew positively devilish. “The window is not far . . .”“I knew I loved you,” Sarah said with a wide smile.”

“I may not like performing in musicales, but I love rehearsing with the three ofyou.”Her three cousins stared at her, momentarily nonplussed.“Don’t you realize how lucky we are?” Honoria said. And then,when no one leapt to agree, she added, “To have each other?”“Couldn’t we have each other over a game of cards?” Iris suggested.”

“That sounded good,” Daisy said with surprise.“It sounded like a fish vomiting,” Sarah said into the piano.“A charming image,” Honoria remarked.“I don’t think fish do vomit,” Daisy remarked, “and if they did, Idon’t think it would sound like—”

“It is really quite remarkable,” Sarah said, “that the two of youare sisters.”“I marvel at it every day,” Iris said flatly.”

“Why is everyone complaining?” Daisy asked impatiently. “Thisis exciting! We get to perform. Do you know how long I have beenwaiting for this day?”“Unfortunately, yes,” Sarah said flatly.“About as long as I have been dreading it,” Iris muttered.”

“Something without the cello,” she muttered.“If I have to do it, you have to do it,” Sarah said with a smirk.Iris glared at her with all the fury of a misunderstood artist. “Youdon’t understand.”“Oh, believe me, I do,” Sarah said with great feeling. “I playedlast year, if you recall. I’ve had an entire year to understand.”

“It’s because she doesn’t have eyelashes,” Daisy said.Iris turned to her with complete calm and said, “I hate you.”“That’s a terrible thing to say, Daisy,” Honoria said, turning onher with a stern expression. It was true that Iris was extraordinarilypale, with the kind of strawberry blond hair that seemed to renderher lashes and brows almost invisible. But she’d always thought Iriswas absolutely gorgeous, almost ethereal-looking.“If she didn’t have eyelashes, she’d be dead,” Sarah said.Honoria turned to her, unable to believe the direction of theconversation. Well, no, that was not completely accurate. Shebelieved it (unfortunately). She just didn’t understand it.“Well, it’s true,” Sarah said defensively. “Or at the very least,blind. Lashes keep all the dust from our eyes.”“Why are we having this conversation?” Honoria wonderedaloud.Daisy immediately answered, “It’s because Sarah said shedidn’t think Iris could look venomous, and then I said—"“I know,” Honoria cut in, and then, when she realized Daisy stillhad her mouth open, looking as if she was only waiting for the rightmoment to complete her sentence, she said it again. “I know. It wasa hypothetical question.”“It still had a perfectly valid answer,” Daisy said with a sniff.”

“It has no piano part,” Honoria reminded her.“I have no objection,” Sarah said quickly. From behind thepiano.”

“Do you really think anyone saves our programs from one yearto the next?” Sarah asked.“My mother does,” Daisy said.“So does mine,” Sarah answered, “but it’s not as if she pullsthem out and compares them side by side.”“My mother does,” Daisy said again.“Dear God,” Iris moaned.”

“Honoria sighed. “We can’t do what we did last year.”“I don’t see why not,” Sarah said. “I can’t imagine anyonewould recognize it from our interpretation”

“I believe I may kill you before the season is out,” Sarahremarked in much the same tone she used when saying, I believe Ishall have lemonade instead of tea.”

“And could it even really be called a kiss? It had been very, veryshort. And did it mean anything if the kisser (him) had been feelingterribly grateful to the kissee (her) and possibly even indebted, inthe most elemental of ways?She’d saved his life, after all. A kiss was not entirely out oforder.Plus, he had said, “Forgive me.” Did it count as a kiss if thekisser had asked for forgiveness?Honoria thought not.”

“There,” she said triumphantly. “Like that.”He began to wonder if they were speaking the same language.“Like what?”“That! What you just said.”He crossed his arms. It seemed the only acceptable reply. If shecouldn’t speak in complete sentences, he saw no reason why hehad to speak at all.”

“Marcus’s appearance theday before had been discussed, dissected, analyzed, and—by LadySarah Pleinsworth, Honoria’s cousin and one of her closest friends—rendered into poetry.“He came in the rain,” Sarah intoned. “The day had been plain.”Honoria nearly spit out her tea.“It was muddy, this lane—”Cecily Royle smiled slyly over her teacup. “Have youconsidered free verse?”“—our heroine, in pain—”“I was cold,” Honoria put in.Iris Smythe-Smith, another of Honoria’s cousins, looked up withher signature dry expression. “I am in pain,” she stated.“Specifically, my ears.”Honoria shot Iris a look that said clearly, Be polite. Iris justshrugged.“—her distress, she did feign—”“Not true!” Honoria protested.“You can’t interfere with genius,” Iris said sweetly.“—her schemes, not in vain—”“This poem is devolving rapidly,” Honoria stated.“I am beginning to enjoy it,” said Cecily.“—her existence, a bane . . .”Honoria let out a snort. “Oh, come now!”“I think she’s doing an admirable job,” Iris said, “given thelimitations of the rhyming structure.” She looked over at Sarah, whohad gone quite suddenly silent. Iris cocked her head to the side; sodid Honoria and Sarah.Sarah’s lips were parted, and her left hand was still outstretchedwith great drama, but she appeared to have run out of words.“Cane?” Cecily suggested. “Main?”“Insane?” offered Iris.“Any moment now,” Honoria said tartly, “if I’m trapped heremuch longer with you lot.”

“It was juvenile, he knew, this need to assign blame, but everyone had a right to childish emotions from time to time, didn't they?”

“the unexpected moment [is] always sweeter.”

“He gave her his best smile. Hisbest I-almost-died-so-how-can-you-deny-me smile. Or at leastthat’s how he hoped it appeared. The truth was, he wasn’t a veryaccomplished flirt, and it might very well have come across as an Iam-mildly-deranged-so-it’s-in-all-of-our-best-interests-if-youpretend-to-agree-with-me smile.”

“Forget Romeo and Juliet. This was much closer to The Taming of the Shrew.”

“You should be thankful that dark colors suit you. Not everyone wears black well.""Why, Lady Olivia, is that a compliment?""Not so much as a compliment to you as an insult to everyone else," she assured him."Thanks heaven for that. I don't think I would know how to conduct myself in a world in which you offered compliments.”

“It's good that you can be horrid when neccesary. It's a useful skill."She leaned on her elbow, settling her chin onto her hand. "Funny, my brother never seemed to think so.”

“What?""You're so neat," she said, looking almost embarrassed. He glanced pointedly over his shoulder. "There are four hundred on the other side of this door.""But you're ruining me.""I can't do it neatly?”

“When a man writes a romance, the woman dies. When a woman writes one, it ends all tidy and sweet.”

“He felt a bit like Romeo to her Juliet, minus the feuding families and poison.And with pigeons.”

“What is this 'baronet'?" the prince asked."Endlessly in between," Harry replied with a sigh. "A bit like purgatory, really.”

“Come along, Sally," she called out to her maid, who was lagging at least a dozen steps behind."it's eraly," Sally moaned."It's half seven," Olivia told her, holding steady for a few moments to allow Sally to catch up."That's early.""Normally, I would agree with you, but as it happens I believe I am turning over a new leaf. Just see how lovely it is outside. The sun is shinning, there is music in the air...""I hear no music," Sally grumbled."Birds, Sally. The birds are singing."Sally remained unconvinced. "That leaf of yours - I don't suppose you'd consider turning it back over again?”

“ How I Would Like to Kill My Brother,Version SixteenBy Olivia Bevelstoke No. really, what was the point? She could hardly top Version Fifteen, which had featured both vivisection and wild boar.”

“You make me smile.”

“He’d mesmerized her, held her soul captive. And she couldn’t move.“Unless you want more than a dream,” he said.She did.“Will you stay?” he whispered. “Or will you go?”She stayed. Heaven help her, she stayed.And Michael showed her just how romantic a library could be.”

“This thing between them, this bond—it wasn’t just passion,and it wasn’t wicked.It was love, and it was divine.”