“He smacked the heel of his hand against his forhead, as if that could knock the mental picture out of his head. Hell, he though irritably, he didn't want to knock the image just out of his head. He wanted to send it clear across the room and out the window.”

“Darling," he said distractedly,"about the moon...""Yes?""I don't think it matters whether you want it or not.""What are you talking about?" "The moon. I think it's yours."Victoria yawned, not bothering to open her eyes. "Fine. i'm glad to have it.""But--" Robert shook his head. He was growing fanciful. the moon didn't belong to his wife. It didn't follow her, protect her. It certainly didn't wink at anybody.But he stared out the window the rest of the way home, just in case”

“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.”

“This has been a perfect day," Anne said quietly. "Almost," Daniel whispered, and then she was in his arms again. He kissed her, but it was different this time. Less urgent. Less fiery. The touch of their lips was achingly soft, and maybe it didn't make her feel crazed, like she wanted to press herself against him and take him within her. Maybe instead he made her feel weightless, as if she could take his hand and float away, just as long as he never stopped kissing her. Her entire body tingled, and she stood on her tiptoes, almost waiting for the moment she left the ground. And then he broke the kiss, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against hers. "There," he said, cradling her face in his hands. "Now it's a perfect day.”

“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.”

“She’d ceased spying upon him, that was true, but the damage was done. Every time he sat at his desk, he could feel her eyes upon him, even though he knew very well she’d shut her curtains tight. But clearly, reality had very little to do with the matter, because all he had to do, it seemed, was glance at her window, and he lost an entire hour’s work.It happened thus: He looked at the window, because it was there, and he couldn’t very well never happen to glance upon it unless he also shut his curtains tight, which he was not willing to do, given the amount of time he spent in his office. So he saw the window, and he thought of her, because, really, what else would he think of upon seeing her bedroom window? At that point, annoyance set in, because A) she wasn’t worth the energy, B) she wasn’t even there, and C) he wasn’t getting any work done because of her.C always led into a bout of even deeper irritation, this time directed at himself, because D) he really ought to have better powers of concentration, E) it was just a stupid window, and F) if he was going to get agitated about a female, it ought to be one he at least liked.F was where he generally let out a loud growl and forced himself to get back to his translation. It usually worked for a minute or two, and then he’d look back up, and happen to see the window, and the whole bloody nonsense cycled back to the beginning.”

“Forty-five minutes later, Benedict was slouching in his chair, his eyes glazed. Every now and then he had to stop and make sure his mouth wasn't hanging open.His mother's conversation was that boring.The young lady she had wanted to discuss with him had actually turned out to be seven young ladies, each of which she assured him was better than the last.Benedict thought he might go mad. Right here in his mother's sitting room he was going to go stark, raving mad. He'd suddenly pop out of his chair, fall to the floor in a frenzy his arms and legs waving, mouth frothing-"Benedict, are you even listening to me?"He looked up and blinked. Damn. Now he would have to focus on his mother's list of possible brides. The prospect of losing his sanity had been infinitely more appealing.”