“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.”

“He had to kiss her. He had to. It was as basic and elemental as his breath, his blood, his very soul. And when he did...The earth stopped spinning.The birds stopped singing.Everything in the world came to a halt, everything but him and her and the feather-light kiss that connected them.”

“Well,” she finally said, “he’s coming back shortly, so you are absolved of your responsibilities.” “No.” The word came from him like an oath, emerging from the very core of his being. She looked at him in impatient confusion. “What do you mean?” He stepped forward. He wasn’t sure what he was doing. He knew only that he couldn’t stop. “I mean no. I don’t want to be absolved.” Her lips parted. He took another step. His heart was pounding, and something within him had gone hot, and greedy, and if there was anything in the world besides her, besides him—he did not know it. “I want you,” he said, the words blunt, and almost harsh, but absolutely, indelibly true. “I want you,” he said again, and he reached out and took her hand. “I want you.” “Marcus, I—” “I want to kiss you,” he said, and he touched one finger to her lips. “I want to hold you.” And then, because he couldn’t have kept it inside for one second longer, he said, “I burn for you.” He took her face in his hands and he kissed her. He kissed her with everything that had been building within him, every last aching, hungry burst of desire. Since the moment he had realized he loved her, this passion had been growing within him. It had probably been there all along, just waiting for him to realize it. He loved her.”

“With an admittedly goofy spring in his step, he made his way across the main hall to the breakfast room, pausing only to peek through the sitting room at the large window, which some enterprising footman had pulled open to let in the warm, spring air. What a day, what a day. Birds were chirping, the sky was blue, the grass was green (as always, but it was still an excellent thing), and he had kissed Miss Wynter.He nearly bounced right off his feet, just thinking about it.It had been splendid. Marvelous. A kiss to deny all previous kisses. Really, he didn’t know what he’d been doing with all those other women, because whatever had happened when his lips had touched theirs, those had not been kisses.Not like last night.”

“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.”

“There was a certain history to this. While heavily pregnant with Amelia, she had asked him if she was radiant or if she just looked like a waddling duck. He told her she’d looked like a radiant duck. This had not been the correct answer.”

“No, Belle needed him. He had to save her from a disastrous marriage. And then, he supposed, he'd simply marry her himself.John wasn't unaware that he was about to pull one of the greatest about-faces in history. He could only hope that Belle would understand that he had realized she'd had been right all along. People made mistakes, didn't they? After all, he wasn't some infallible storybook hero.”