“All—all right," she said, looking dubiously at the chair. "I—um, I need to change, though.""I'll just wait in the hall." He straightened his spine and walked from the room, deciding he was the noblest, most chivalrous, and possibly the most stupid man in all Britain.”

“You should do that more often,” he said. “Laugh, I mean.”“I know.” But that sounded sad, and she didn’t want to be sad, so she added, “I don’t often get to torture grown men, though.”“Really?” he murmured. “I would think you do it all the time.”She looked at him.“When you walk into a room,” he said softly, “the air changes.”

“When you walk into a room,” he said softly, “the air changes.”

“First of all, this goes no further than this room.""Agreed," she said quickly.Anthony looked pointedly at Simon."Of course," he replied."Mother would be devastated if she learned the truth.""Actually," Simon murmured, "I rather think your mother would applaud our ingenuity, but since you have quite obviously known her longer, I bow to your discretion."Anthony shot him a frosty look. "Second, under no circumstances are the two of you to be alone together. Ever.""Well, that should be easy," Daphne said, "as we wouldn't be allowed to be alone if we were courting in truth, anyway."Simon recalled their brief interlude in the hall at Lady Danbury's house, and found it a pity that he wasn't to be allowed any more private time with Daphne, but he recognized a brick wall when he saw one, especially when said wall happened to be named Anthony Bridgerton. So he just nodded and murmured his assent."Third—" "There is a third?" Daphne asked.            "There would be thirty if I could think of them," Anthony growled.                                        "Very well," she acceded, looking most aggrieved. "If you must.”

“No," he said hoarsely, "the chair will do just fine, thank you.""If I know you are uncomfortable, I shan't be able to sleep." She sounded remarkably like a damsel in distress.Dunford shuddered. He had never been able to resist playing hero. Slowly he got to his feet and walked to the empty side of the bed.How bad could it be?”

“I think you're going to break more hearts this spring than I'll be able to count.""It isn't your job to count them," he said, his voice quiet and hard."No, it isn't, is it?" She looked over at him and smile wryly. "But I'm going to end up doing it all the same, won't I?""And why is that?"She didn't seem to have an answer to that, and then, just when he was sure she would say no more, she whispered, "Because I won't be able to stop myself.”

“Speaking of which,” he murmured.Hyacinth’s mouth fell open as he dropped down to oneknee. “What are you doing?” she squeaked, franticallylooking this way and that. Lord St. Clair was surely peekingout at them, and heaven only knew who else was, too.“Someone will see,” she whispered.He seemed unconcerned. “People will say we’re inlove.”“I—” Good heavens, but how did a woman argueagainst that?“Hyacinth Bridgerton,” he said, taking her hand in his,“will you marry me?”She blinked in confusion. “I already said I would.”“Yes, but as you said, I did not ask you for the right reasons.They were mostly the right reasons, but not all.”“I—I—” She was stumbling on the words, choking onthe emotion.He was staring up at her, his eyes glowing clear andblue in the dim light of the streetlamps. “I am asking youto marry me because I love you,” he said”