“Caroline stamped her foot in frustration, but when it landed, it landed on something considerablyless flat than the floor."Owww!" he yelled.Oh! His foot!Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry , she mouthed.I didn't mean it."If you think I can understand that," he growled, "you're crazier than I'd originally thought.”

“Just curious,she mouthed."What? I didn't catch that."Jjuussttccuurriioouuss.She drew it out this time, hoping he'd be able to read her lips."If you spoke out loud," he drawled, "I might understand what you're saying."Caroline stamped her foot in frustration, but when it landed, it landed on something considerablyless'flat than the floor."Owww!" he yelled.Oh! His foot!Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry , she mouthed.I didn't mean it."If you think I can understand that," he growled, "you're crazier than I'd originally thought.”

“Ellie fought the urge to stamp her foot. "I meant it this time. Do you accept my apology?""It appears," he said, raising his eyebrows, "that you might do me bodily harm if I do not.""Ungracious prig," she muttered. "I am trying to apologize.""And I," he said, "am trying to accept.”

“She was in big trouble now."You stupid man," she said to the body on the floor. "Why did you have to lunge at me like that? Why couldn't you have left well enough alone? I told your father I wasn't going to marry you. I told him I wouldn't marry you if you were the last idiot in Britain."She nearly stamped her foot in frustration. Why was it her words never came out quite the way sheintended them to? "What I meant to say was that you are an idiot," she said to Percy, who, notsurprisingly, didn't respond, "and that I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man in Britain, and- Oh, blast. What am I doing talking to you, anyway? You're quite dead.”

“But Benedict Bridgerton was obviously determined not to be a gentleman this afternoon, because when she moved one of her feet-just to flex her toes, which were falling asleep in her shoes, honest!-barely half a second passed before he growled, "Don't even think about it.""I wasn't!" she protested. "My foot was falling asleep. And hurry up! It can't possibly take so long to get dressed.""Oh?" he drawled."You're doing this just to torture me," she grumbled."You may feel free to face me at any time," he said, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "I assure you that I asked you to turn your back for the sake of your sensibilities, not mine.”

“The youngest one,” she interrupted. “The youngest son, I mean. The one who is unmarried.”“I know who he is.”“Very well, then. What is wrong with him?” At that she cocked her head to the side and waited expectantly.He thought for a moment. “Nothing.”“You—wait.” She blinked. “Nothing?”He shook his head, then shifted his weight a little; his good foot was beginning to fall asleep. “Nothing comes immediately to mind.” It was true. She could do a good deal worse than Gregory Bridgerton.“Really?” she asked suspiciously. “You find nothing at all objectionable about him.”Marcus pretended to think about this a bit longer. Clearly he was supposed to be playing a role here, probably that of the villain. Or if not that, then the grumpy old man. “I suppose he’s a bit young,” he said.”

“Of course. The team on your carriage was beautiful. They are yours, aren't they?"He ignored her and walked ahead until his foot connected with soft mushy ground. "Shit," he muttered."Exactly."He glared at her, thinking himself a saint for not going for her throat.”