“Bridgerton,” he grunted. Damn damn damn. Colin Bridgerton was the last person he wanted to see right now. Even the ghost of Napoleon, come down to slice a rapier through his gullet, would have been preferable.”
“In his heart, she’d been smiling for him.But now she was smiling at Colin Bridgerton, he of the famous charm and sparkling green eyes.”
“Where is he? Bridgerton!" he bellowed.Three chestnut heads swiveled in his direction. Simon stomped across the grass, murder in his eyes. "I meant the idiot Bridgerton.""That, I believe," Anthony said mildly, tilting his chin toward Colin, "would refer to you.”
“He was so damn perverse, he preferred to dream it than to make it come true.”
“[H]e was damned if he was going to water down his arguments simply to satisfy the preference of the mob for dogma and ignorance.”
“He was the firstborn Bridgerton of a firstborn Bridgerton of a firstborn Bridgerton eight times over. He had a dynastic responsibility to be fruitful and multiply.”