But Hyacinth Bridgerton, Who At Ten Should

Interesting, He Later Reflected, Was Perhaps Not The Correct Word.by The Time He And Henry Arrived Back At The House For Their Midday Meal-a Scrumptious Bowl Of Hot, Sticky Porridge-he Had Mucked Out The Stable Stalls, Milked A Cow, Been Pecked By Three Separate Hens, Weeded A Vegetable Garden, And Fallen Into A Trough.

She'd Met Colin On A Monday. She'd Kissed Him On A Friday. Twelve Years Later. She Sighed. It Seemed Fairly Pathetic.

Anthony Bridgerton Leaned Back In His Leather Chair,and Then Announced, "i'm Thinking About Getting Married." Benedict Bridgerton, Who Had Been Indulging In A Habit His Mother Detested—tipping His Chair Drunkenly On The Back Two Legs—fell Over. Colin Bridgerton Started To Choke. Luckily For Colin, Benedict Regained His Seat With Enough Time To Smack Him Soundly On The Back, Sending A Green Olive Sailing Across The Table. It Narrowly Missed Anthony's Ear.

It Was Funny, He Reflected Later, How One’s Life Could Alter In An Instant, How One Minute Everything Could Be A Certain Way, And The Next It’s Simply ... Not

Heartache, Daphne Eventually Learned, Never Really Went Away; It Just Dulled. The Sharp, Stabbing Pain That One Felt With Each Breath Eventually Gave Way To A Blunter, Lower Ache—the Kind That One Could Almost—but Never Quite—ignore.