“It wasn't one of my favorite boots," Marcus said, trying to cheer Miss Royle up. She looked as if someone had decapitated a puppy.”

“Don’t look so upset,” Hyacinth said, once it was justthe two of them again. “You’re quite a catch.”He looked at her assessingly. “Is one meant to say suchthings quite so directly?”She shrugged. “Not to men one is trying to impress.”“Touché, Miss Bridgerton.”She sighed happily. “My three favorite words.”Of that, he had no doubt.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, sending up a quick prayer for his continued recovery.“You’re welcome,” Marcus murmured.Honoria let out a little shriek of surprise, jumping back nearly a foot.“Sorry,” he said, but he was laughing.It was quite the loveliest sound Honoria had ever heard.“I wasn’t thanking you,” she said pertly.“I know.” He smiled”

“She had been born for this man, and she had spent so many years trying to accept the fact that he had been born for someone else...”

“Your fangs are showing, Miss Lyndon.""Are they?" she asked, reaching up to touch her face. "I shall have to remember to retract them."Charles burst out laughing. "You, Miss Lyndon, are a treasure.""That's what I keep telling everyone," she said with a shrug and a wicked smile, "but no one seems to believe me.”

“Let me try,” he said, and he took the ends and positionedhimself in front of her mirror.She watched him for about two seconds before declaring,“You’re going to have to go home.”His eyes did not leave the reflection of his neckcloth in themirror. “I haven’t even got past the first knot.”“And you’re not going to.”He gave her a supercilious look, brow quirked and all.“You’re never going to get it right,” she pronounced. “I mustsay, between this and your boots, I am revising my opinion on theimpracticalities of couture, male versus female.”“Really?”Her gaze dropped to his boots, polished to a perfect shine. “Noone has ever had to take a knife to my footwear.”“I wear nothing that buttons up the back,” he countered.“True, but I may choose a dress that buttons in the front,whereas you cannot go out and about without a neckcloth.”

“Colin's chuckles grew more heartfelt. "You really ought to have more faith in your favorite brother, dear sis.""He’s your favorite brother?" Simon asked, one dark brow raised in disbelief."Only because Gregory put a toad in my bed last night," Daphne bit off, "and Benedict's standing has never recovered from the time he beheaded my favorite doll.""Makes me wonder what Anthony's done to deny him even an honorable mention," Colin murmured."Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Daphne asked pointedly.Colin shrugged. "Not really.""Didn't," she asked through clenched teeth, "you just tell me you promised a dance to Prudence Featherington?""Gads, no. You must have misheard.""Perhaps Mother is looking for you, then. In fact, I'm certain I hear her calling your name."Colin grinned at her discomfort. "You're not supposed to be so obvious," he said in a stage whisper, purposely loud enough for Simon to hear. "He'll figure out that you like him."Simon's entire body jerked with barely contained mirth."It's not his company I'm trying to secure," Daphne said acidly. "It's yours I'm trying to avoid."Colin clapped a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Daff." He turned to Simon. "Oh, how she wounds me.""You missed your calling, Bridgerton," Simon said genially. "You should have been on the stage.""An interesting idea," Colin replied, "but one that would surely give my mother the vapors." His eyes lit up. "Now that's an idea. And just when the party was growing tedious. Good eve to you both." He executed a smart bow and walked off.”