“Dogs deserve proper names.""Cats, too?""Cats are entirely different. They catch mice.”

“But she was already in. Gareth couldn't help but stand back in admiration. Hyacinth Bridgerton was clearly a natural born athlete.Either that or a cat burglar.”

“How delightful! Dunford had just come into an unexpected inheritance. She rather hoped it was something good. One of her friends had just unwillingly inherited thirty-seven cats.”

“I miss my dog."..."What was his name again?""Mouse.""That was very unkind of you.""Naming him mouse?""Isn't he a greyhound?""I could have named hum Turtle.""Frederick!"..."It's better than Frederic," Annabel said, "Good heavens, that's my brother's name.”

“I’m trying to embroider.” Hyacinth held up her handiworkas proof.“You’re trying to avoid—” Her mother stopped, blinking.“I say, why does that flower have an ear?”“It’s not an ear.” Hyacinth looked down. “And it’s not aflower.”“Wasn’t it a flower yesterday?”“I have a very creative mind,” Hyacinth ground out,giving the blasted flower another ear.“That,” Violet said, “has never been in any doubt.”Hyacinth looked down at the mess on the fabric. “It’s atabby cat,” she announced. “I just need to give it a tail.”

“Turn right up ahead," he directed. "It'll take us directly to my cottage."She did as he asked. "Does your cottage have a name?""My Cottage.""I might have known," she muttered.He smirked. Quite a feat, in her opinion, since he looked sick as a dog. "I'm not kidding," he said.Sure enough, in another minute they pulled up in front of an elegant country house, complete with a small, unobtrusive sign in front reading, MY COTTAGE”

“There was a huge difference between dislike and disregard.”