Julia Quinn

“But when he said he couldn’t shoot, it just seemed to make an odd sort ofsense to tell him that Hermione couldn’t dance. It fit, really. Men were supposed to shoot, and womenwere supposed to dance, and trusty best friends were supposed to keep their foolish mouths shut.Clearly, all three of them needed a bit of instruction.”

“There is so much I hope to teach you, little one. I hope that I may do so by example, but I feel the needto put the words topaper as well. It is a quirk of mine, one which I expect you will recognize and find amusing by the timeyou read this letter.Be strong.Be diligent.Be conscientious. There is never anything to be gained by taking the easy road. (Unless, of course, theroad is an easy one to begin with. Roads sometimes are. If that should be the case, do not forge a new,more difficult one. Only martyrs go outlooking for trouble.)Love your siblings. You have two already, and God willing, there will be more. Love them well, for theyare your blood,and when you are unsure, or times are difficult, they will be the ones to stand by your side.Laugh. Laugh out loud, and laugh often. And when circumstances call for silence, turn your laugh into asmile.Don't settle. Know what you want and reach for it. And if you don't know what you want, be patient.The answers willcome to you in time, and you may find that your heart s desire has been right under your nose all thewhile.And remember, always remember that you have a mother and a father who love each other and loveyou.I feel you growing restless. Your father is making strange gasping sounds and will surely lose his temperaltogether if Ido not move from my escritoire to my bed.Welcome to the world, little one. We are all so delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“She was married now, and suddenly she understoodwhat it was her motherhad been trying so hard to tell her on her wedding night. Marriage was about compromise, and she andPhillip were verydifferent people. They might be perfect for one another, but that didn't mean they were the same. And ifshe wanted him to change some of his ways for her, well then, she was going to have to do the same forhim.”

“. . . I do not tell you often enough, dear Mother, how very grateful I am that I am yours. It is a rare parent who would offer a child such latitude and understanding. It is an even rarer one who calls a daughter friend. I do love you, dear Mama.”

“He shook his head in wonder. "You are magnificent.""I keep telling everyone that," she said with a nonchalant shrug, "But you seem to be the only one to believe me.”

“You’re very impatient,” Violet said, facing the door. “You always have been.”“I know,” Eloise said, wondering if this was a scolding, and if so, why was her mother choosing to do it now?“I always loved that about you,” Violet said. “I always loved everything about you, of course, but for some reason I always found your impatience especially charming. It was never because you wanted more, it was because you wanted everything.”Eloise wasn’t so sure that sounded like such a good trait.“You wanted everything for everyone, and you wanted to know it all and learn it all, and . . .”For a moment Eloise thought her mother might be done, but then Violet turned around and added, “You’ve never been satisfied with second-best, and that’s good, Eloise. I’m glad you never married any of those men who proposed in London. None of them would have made you happy. Content, maybe, but not happy.”Eloise felt her eyes widen with surprise.“But don’t let your impatience become all that you are,” Violet said softly. “Because it isn’t, you know. There’s a great deal more to you, but I think sometimes you forget that.” She smiled, the gentle, wise smile of a mother saying goodbye to her daughter.”

“Are you certain you'll be happy?" she asked.Eloise smiled ruefully. "It's a little late to wonder, don't you think?""It might be too late to do anything about it, but it's never too late to wonder.”

“Phillip muttered something under his breath."What did you say?" she asked."Nothing.""You said something."He gave her an impatient look. "If I'd meant for you to hear it, I would have said it out loud."She sucked in her breath. "Then you shouldn't have said it at all.""Some things," Phillip muttered, "are impossible to keep inside.""What did yousay?" she demanded.Phillip raked his hand through his hair. "Eloise—""Did you insult me?""Do you really want to know?""Since it appears we are to be wed," she bit off, "yes.""I don't recall my exact words," Phillip shot back, "but I believe I may have uttered the wordswomenandlack of sense inthe same breath.”

“Shall we return to the dining room?" Anthony queried. "I imagine you're hungry, and if we tarry muchlonger, Colin is sure tohave eaten our host out of house and home."Eloise nodded. "Either that, or they've all killed him by now."Anthony paused to consider that. "It would save me the expense of a wedding.""Anthony!""It's a joke, Eloise," he said, giving his head a weary shake. "Come along, now. Let's make sure your SirPhillip still residesamong the ranks of the living.”

“A lot could happen in a week.Just look at the last one.”

“I never thought I would be left behind."He chuckled. "Eloise Bridgerton, I don't think anyone wouldever make the mistake of leaving youbehind.”

“I had to do something," she said. "I couldn't just sit and wait for life to happen to me any longer.”

“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 nearlygetting him tortured andkilled, 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 waveddismissively at Gregory—"is an infant.”

“Eloiseis getting married as well.”“Eloise?” Michael asked with some surprise. “Was she even being courted by anyone?”“No,” Francesca said, quickly flipping to the third sheet of her mother‟s letter. “It‟s someone she‟s never met.”“Well, I imagine she‟s met him now,” Michael said in a dry voice.”

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

“Michael had to clutch the end of the table to keep from rising. He could have had Shakespeare at his side to translate, and still not have been able to explain why Colin‟s remark infuriated him so.”

“Michael wondered what the legal ramifications were for strangling a knight of the realm. Surely nothing he couldn‟t live with.”

“And what renders him so unmarriageable?” Eloise asked.Francesca leveled a serious stare at her older sister. Eloise was mad if she thought she should set her cap for Michael.“Well?” Eloise prodded.“He could never remain faithful to one woman,” Francesca said, “and I doubt you’d be willing to put up with infidelities.”“No,” Eloise murmured, “not unless he’d be willing to put up with severe bodily injury.”

“Francesca actually felt her chin drop. “Mother,” she said, shaking her head, “you really should have stopped at seven.”“Children, you mean?” Violet asked, sipping at her tea. “Sometimes I do wonder.”“Mother!” Hyacinth exclaimed.Violet just smiled at her. “Salt?”“It took her eight tries to get it right,” Hyacinth announced, thrusting the salt cellar at her mother with a decided lack of grace.“And does that mean that you, too, hope to have eight children?” Violet inquired sweetly.“God no,” Hyacinth said. With great feeling. And neither she nor Francesca could quite resist a chuckle after that.”

“I‟m going to kill her,” Francesca said to no one in particular. Which was probably a good thing, as there was no one else present.“Who are you talking to?” Hyacinth demanded.“God,” Francesca said baldly. “And I do believe I have been given divine leave to murder you.”“Hmmph,” was Hyacinth‟s response. “If it was that easy, I‟d have asked permission to eliminate half the ton years ago.”Francesca decided just then that not all of Hyacinth‟s statements required a rejoinder. In fact, few of them did.”

“I hope you know that I am listening, should you ever change your mind.”

“A lot of women want children.”“Right,” he said, coughing on the word. “Of course. But… don‟t you think you might want a husband first?”“Of course.”

“There were a lot of things in life to be afraid of, but strangeness ought not be among them.”

“It was one of those things that had to be experienced to be understood”

“She didn‟t like to be thwarted, and she certainly did not enjoy admitting that she might not be able to arrange her world—and the people inhabiting it—to her satisfaction.”

“Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Cousin‟s Wife.Moses must have forgotten to write that one down”

“Their fathers had been twins, but John‟s had entered the world seven minutes before Michael‟s.The most critical seven minutes in Michael Stirling‟s life, and he hadn‟t even been alive for them.”

“Oh, Elizabeth," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her mouth, "I love you so much. You must believe me.""I believe you," she said softly, "because in your eyes, I see what I feel in my heart.”

“and he stopped going to church entirely, because there seemed no point now in even contemplating prayer for his soul. Besides, the parish church near Kilmartin dated to 1432, and the crumbling stones certainly couldn‟t takea direct strike of lightning.And if God ever wanted to smite a sinner, he couldn‟t do better than Michael Stirling.Michael Stirling, Sinner.He could see it on a calling card. He‟d have had it printed up, even—his was just that sort of black sense of humor—if he weren‟t convinced it would kill his mother on the spot.Rake he might be, but there was no need to torture the woman who‟d borne him.”

“This was killing her. She had to break the silence. This was not natural. It was too awful. People were meant to talk.”

“It was nearly impossible to keep anything a secret, especially from hersisters, the youngest of whom—Hyacinth—could probably have won the war against Napoleon in halfthe time if His Majesty had only thought to draft her into the espionage service.”

“If you cannot recognize the problem, there is no way that I could explain it to you."He laughed, damn the man. "My goodness," he said, "that was an expert sidestep.”

“Do you live here?" Sophie asked dryly."No," he said, plopping down into the chair next to her, "although my mother is constantly telling me to make myself right at home.”

“I'm leaving!" she said, with, in her opinion, great drama and resolve.But he just answered her with a sly half smile, and said, "I'm following."And the bloody man remained two strides behind her the entire way home.”

“It's very bad form to spy on one's host," he said, planting his hands on his hips and somehow managing to look both authoritative and relaxed at the same time."It was an accident," she grumbled."Oh, I believe you there," he said. "But even if you didn't intend to spy on me, the fact remains that when the opportunity arose, you took it.""Do you blame me?"He grinned. "Not at all. I would have done precisely the same thing."Her mouth fell open."Oh, don't pretend to be offended," he said."I'm not pretending."He leaned a bit closer. “To tell the truth, I'm quite flattered.""It was academic curiosity," she ground out. "I assure you."His smile grew sly. "So you're telling me that you would have spied upon any naked man you'd come across?""Of course not!""As I said," he drawled, leaning back against a tree, "I'm flattered.""Well, now that we have that settled," Sophie said with a sniff, "I'm going back to Your Cottage.”

“It has oft been said that physicians make the worst patients, but it is the opinion of This Author that any man makes a terrible patient. One might say it takes patience to be a patient, and heaven knows, the males of our species lack an abundance of patience.”

“Does that feel better?" she asked, not expecting any sort of an answer but feeling nonetheless that she ought to continue with her one-sided conversation. "I really don't know very much about caring for the ill, but it just seems to me like you'd want something cool on your brow. I know if I were sick, that's how I'd feel."He shifted restlessly, mumbling something utterly incoherent."Really?" Sophie replied, trying to smile but failing miserably. "I'm glad you feel that way."He mumbled something else."No," she said, dabbing the cool cloth on his ear, "I'd have to agree with what you said the first time." He went still again."I'd be happy to reconsider," she said worriedly. "Please don't take offense." He didn't move.Sophie sighed. One could only converse so long with an unconscious man before one started to feel extremely silly.”

“Mr. Bridgerton?" she asked softly. "Mr. Bridgerton!" Benedict's head jerked up violently."What? What?""You fell asleep."He blinked confusedly. "Is there a reason that's bad?""You can't fall asleep in your clothing.”

“Turn right up ahead," he directed. "It'll take us directly to my cottage."She did as he asked. "Does your cottage have a name?""My Cottage.""I might have known," she muttered.He smirked. Quite a feat, in her opinion, since he looked sick as a dog. "I'm not kidding," he said.Sure enough, in another minute they pulled up in front of an elegant country house, complete with a small, unobtrusive sign in front reading, MY COTTAGE”

“He'd thought he would stop looking for her. He was a practical man, and he'd assumed that eventually he would simply give up. And in some ways, he had. After a few months he found himself back in the habit of turning down more invitations than he accepted. A few months after that, he realized that he was once again able to meet women and not automatically compare them to her.But he couldn't stop himself from watching for her. He might not feel the same urgency, but whenever he attended a ball or took a seat at a musicale, he found his eyes sweeping across the crowd, his ears straining for the lilt of her laughter.She was out there somewhere. He'd long since resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't likely to find her, and he hadn't searched actively for over a year, but...He smiled wistfully. He just couldn't stop from looking. It had become, in a very strange way, a part of who he was. His name was Benedict Bridgerton, he had seven brothers and sisters, was rather skilled with both a sword and a sketching crayon, and he always kept his eyes open for the one woman who had touched his soul.”

“Francesca couldn’t say anything, because that would just make her mother feel even worse, and soinstead they stood there as they always did, thinking the same thing but never speaking of it, wonderingwhich of them hurt more.”

“Eloise,” Penelope said, somewhat breathless from trying to shake offHyacinth.“Penelope.” But Eloise’s voice sounded curious. Which did notsurprise Penelope; Eloise was no fool, and she was well aware that herbrother’s normal modes of behavior did not include beatific smiles in herdirection.“Eloise,” Hyacinth said, for no reason Penelope could deduce.“Hyacinth.”Penelope turned to her husband. “Colin.”He looked amused. “Penelope. Hyacinth.”Hyacinth grinned. “Colin.” And then: “Sir Phillip.”“Ladies.” Sir Phillip, it seemed, favored brevity.“Stop!” Eloise burst out. “What is going on?”“A recitation of our Christian names, apparently,” Hyacinth said.”

“I’ve already instructed theothers to keep their mouths shut.”“Even Hyacinth?” Penelope asked doubtfully.“Especially Hyacinth.”“Did you bribe her?” Violet asked. “Because it won’t work unless youbribe her.”“Good Lord,” Colin muttered. “One would think I’d joined this familyyesterday. Of course I bribed her.” He turned to Penelope. “No offense torecent additions.”“Oh, none taken.”

“Eloise, whose mouth was as sharp as Hyacinth’s (though thankfully tempered by some discretion), hadremarked that they had best get Hyacinth married off quickly or their mother was going to become analcoholic. Lady Bridgerton had not appreciated the comment, although she privately thought it might betrue.”

“It was heaven. Forget angels, forget St. Peter and glittering harpsichords. Heaven was a dance in the arms of one's true love.”

“Did you know I dream about your hair? I use to say it was the color of the sun at sunset, but I'm wrong. It's brighter than the sun, just as you are.”

“But he wanted to smile. He would have done, if he'd been able. Surely that had to be the most important thing.The jabbing at his leg stopped for a bit, then started up again. Then there was a lovely, short pause, and then-Damn, that hurt.But not enough to cry out. Although he might have moaned. He wasn't sure. They'd poured hot water on him. Lots of it. He wondered if they were trying to poach his leg.Boiled meat. How terribly British of them.He chuckled. He was funny. Who knew he was so funny?"Oh, my God!" he heard Honoria yell. "What did I do to him?"He laughed some more. Because she sounded ridiculous.Almost as if she were speaking through a foghorn.Oooorrrrhhhh myyy Grrrrrrrrrd.He wondered if she could hear it,too.Wait a moment..Honoria was asking what she'd done to him?Did that mean she was wielding the scissors now?He wasn't sure how he ought to feel about this.On the other hand...boiled meat!He laughed again,deciding he didn't care.God,he was funny.How was it possible no one had ever told him he was funny before?”

“Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.”

“By the following morning, Anthony was drunk. By afternoon, he was hungover.His head was pounding, his ears were ringing, and his brothers, who had been surprised to discover himin such a state attheir club, were talking far too loudly.Anthony put his hands over his ears and groaned.Everyone was talking far too loudly.“Kate boot you out of the house?” Colin asked, grabbing a walnut from a large pewter dish in the middletheir table andsplitting it open with a viciously loud crack.Anthony lifted his head just far enough to glare at him.Benedict watched his brother with raised brows and the vaguest hint of a smirk. “She definitely bootedhim out,” he said to Colin. “Hand me one of those walnuts, will you?”Colin tossed one across the table. “Do you want the crackers as well?”Benedict shook his head and grinned as he held up a fat, leather-bound book. “Much more satisfying tosmash them.”“Don’t,” Anthony bit out, his hand shooting out to grab the book, “even think about it.”“Ears a bit sensitive this afternoon, are they?”If Anthony had had a pistol, he would have shot them both, hang the noise.“If I might offer you a piece of advice?” Colin said, munching on his walnut.“You might not,” Anthony replied. He looked up. Colin was chewing with his mouth open. As this hadbeen strictly forbidden while growing up in their household, Anthony could only deduce that Colin wasdisplaying such poor manners only to make more noise. “Close your damned mouth,” he muttered.Colin swallowed, smacked his lips, and took a sip of his tea to wash it all down. “Whatever you did,apologize for it. I know you, and I’m getting to know Kate, and knowing what I know—”“What the hell is he talking about?” Anthony grumbled.“I think,” Benedict said, leaning back in his chair, “that he’s telling you you’re an ass.”“Just so!” Colin exclaimed.Anthony just shook his head wearily. “It’s more complicated than you think.”“It always is,” Benedict said, with sincerity so false it almost managed to sound sincere.“When you two idiots find women gullible enough to actually marry you,” Anthony snapped, “then youmay presume tooffer me advice. But until then ...shut up.”Colin looked at Benedict. “Think he’s angry?”Benedict quirked a brow. “That or drunk.”Colin shook his head. “No, not drunk. Not anymore, at least. He’s clearly hungover.”“Which would explain,” Benedict said with a philosophical nod, “why he’s so angry.”Anthony spread one hand over his face and pressed hard against his temples with his thumb and middlefinger. “God above,”he muttered. ‘‘What would it take to get you two to leave me alone?”“Go home, Anthony,” Benedict said, his voice surprisingly gentle.”

“He was no fool; he knew that love existed. But he also believed inthe power of the mind, and perhaps even more importantly, the power of the will. Frankly, he saw noreason why love should be an involuntary thing.If he didn’t want to fall in love, then by damn, he wasn’t going to. It was as simple as that. Ithad to be assimple as that.”