“Benedict suddenly had to get away. It was either that or kill the twittering ninnyhammer, and with so many witnesses, he didn't think he could get away with it.”

“Sophie stared at the door, trying desperately to keep her eyes focused on anything but Benedict. She'd spent all week hoping for a glimpse,but now that he was here, all she wanted was to escape. If she looked at his face, her eyes inevitably strayed to his lips. And if she looked at his lips, her thoughts immediately went to their kiss. And if she thought about the kiss..."I need that thimble," she blurted out, jumping to her feet. There were some things one just shouldn't think about in public."So you said," Benedict murmured, one of his eyebrows quirking up into a perfect-and perfectly arrogant-arch."It's downstairs," she muttered. "In my room.""But your room is upstairs," Hyacinth said.Sophie could have killed her. "That's what I said," she ground out."No," Hyacinth said in a matter-of-fact tone, "you didn't.""Yes," Lady Bridgerton said, "she did. I heard her."Sophie twisted her head sharply to look at Lady Bridgerton and knew in an instant that the older woman had lied. "I have to get that thimble," she said, for what seemed like the thirtieth time. She hurried toward the doorway, gulping as she grew close to Benedict."Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," he said, stepping aside to allow her through the doorway.But as she brushed past him, he leaned forward, whispering, "Coward.”

“She slid a slim volume of poetry off the shelf and returned to her chair, swishing her rather unnattractive skirts before she sat down.Benedict frowned. He'd never really noticed before how ugly her dress was. Not as bad as the one Mrs. Cabtree had lent her, but certainly not anything designed to bring out the best in a woman. He ought to buy her a new dress. She would never accept it,of course, but maybe if her current garments were accidentally burned..."Mr. Bridgerton?"But how could he manage to burn her dress? She'd have to not be wearing it, and that posed a certain challenge in and of itself..."Are you even listening to me?" Sophie demanded."Hmmm?""You're not listening to me.""Sorry," he admitted. "My apologies. My mind got away from me. Please continue."She began anew, and in his attempt to show how much attention he was paying her, he focused his eyes on her lips, which proved to be a big mistake.Because suddenly those lips were all he could see, and he couldn't stop thinking about kissing her, and he knew- absolutely knew-that if one of them didn't leave the room in the next thirty seconds, he was going to do something for which he'd owe her a thousand apologies.Not that he didn't plan to seduce her. Just that he'd rather do it with a bit more finesse."Oh, dear," he blurted out.Sophie gave him an odd look. He didn't blame her. He sounded like a complete idiot. He didn't think he'd uttered the phrase, "Oh,dear," in years. If ever.Hell,he sounded like his mother."Is something wrong?" Sophie asked."I just remembered something," he said, rather stupidly, in his opinion.She raised her brows in question."Something that I'd forgotten," Benedict said."The things one remembers," she said, looking exceedingly amused, "are most often things one had forgotten.”

“Nothing like trapping the gentlemen where they couldn't get away.”

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

“His mouth captured hers, trying to show her with his kiss what he was still learning to express in words. He loved her. He worshipped her. He'd walk across fire for her. He——still had the audience of her three brothers.Slowly breaking the kiss, he turned his face to the side. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were still standing in the foyer. Anthony was studying the ceiling, Benedict was pretending to inspect his fingernails, and Colin was staring quite shamelessly.”

“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.”