“But just for the sake of argument, let's say I am cornered. Or perhaps I am in the middle of a crowded ballroom and do not want to make a scene. If you were flirting with a young lady who had just told you not to call her sweetheart, what would you do?""I would accede to her wishes and bid her good night," he said starchily."You would not!" Henry accused with a playful smile. "You're a terrible rake, Dunford. Belle told me.""Belle talks too much," he muttered.”

“If I wanted Belle," he cut in, "I would have asked her to marry me." He pulled her more tightly against him. "Henry, I love you. I'd love you if you wore a sackcloth. I'd love you if you had a mustache." He paused and tweaked her nose. "Well, the mustache would be difficult. Please promise me you won't grow one.”

“Not that I knew who you were until last month. But now that I've got you, I'm not letting you go.""You're not?"Blake stared at her in irritated confusion. What was her game? "Do you think I'm an idiot?" he spat out."No," she said. "I've just escaped from a den of idiots, so I'm well familiar with the breed, and you're something else entirely. I am, however, hoping you're not a terribly good shot.”

“Not," Caroline had said, "that I disapprove of your moniker. It is simply that my husband's name is also Henry, and it's rather disconcerting for me to use it on a girl of your tender years."Henry had only smiled and told her that that was just fine. It had been so long since she had had a maternal figure that she would have been inclined to let Caroline call her Esmerelda if she so desired.”

“I--" She swallowed, perhaps summoning her courage, then continued, "I would not lie to you and say that I did not want this.""Me," he cut in peevishly. "You wanted me."She closed her eyes. “Yes,” she finally said, “I wanted you.”Part of him wanted to interrupt again, to remind her that she still wanted him, that it wasn’t and would never be in the past.“But I can’t have you,” she said quietly, “and because of that, you can’t have me.”And then, to his complete astonishment, he asked, “What if I married you?”

“I wanted to skewer her with a stare, flay her with a frown, impale her with a—I say, what are you doing?"Charles would have answered her, but he was laughing so hard he was doubled over.”

“Miss Bridgerton,” he said, “the devil himself couldn’t scare you.”She forced her eyes to meet his. “That’s not a compliment, is it?”He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across her knuckles. “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” he murmured.To all who observed, he was the soul of propriety, but Hyacinth caught the daring gleam in his eye, and she felt the breath leave her body as tingles of electricity rushed across her skin. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say, not a single word. There was nothing but air, and even that seemed in short supply.And then he straightened as if nothing had happened and said, “Do let me know what you decide.”She just stared at him.“About the compliment,” he added. “I am sure you will wish to let me know how I feel about you.”Her mouth fell open.He smiled. Broadly. “Speechless, even. I’m to be commended.”“You—”“No. No,” he said, lifting one hand in the air and pointing toward her as if what he really wanted to do was place his finger on her lips and shush her. “Don’t ruin it. The moment is too rare.”