You Are Always Looking At People Like

He Said He Loved Me,” She Whispered. Daniel Swallowed, And He Had The Strangest Sensation, Almost A Premonition Of What It Must Like To Be A Parent. Someday, God Willing, He’d Have A Daughter, And That Daughter Would Look Like The Woman Standing In Front Of Him, And If Ever She Looked At Him With That Bewildered Expression, Whispering, “he Said He Loved Me . . .” Nothing Short Of Murder Would Be An Acceptable Response.

He Gave Her A Sly, Sideways Look. "did You Bring It?" "my List? Heavens, No. What Can You Be Thinking?" His Smile Widened. "i Brought Mine." Daphne Gasped. "you Didn't!" "i Did. Just To Torture Mother. I'm Going Peruse It Right In Front Of Her, Pull Out My Quizzing Glass—" "you Don't Have A Quizzing Glass." He Grinned—the Slow, Devastatingly Wicked Smile That All Bridgerton Males Seemed To Possess. "i Bought One Just For This Occasion." "anthony, You Absolutely Cannot. She Will Kill You. And Then, Somehow, She'll Find A Way To Blame Me." "i'm Counting On It.

Never," He Spat Out, "kick A Man Who Is Pointing A Gun At You.

She Smelled Like England, Of Soft Rain And Sun-kissed Meadows. And She Felt Like The Best Kind Of Heaven. He Wanted To Wrap Himself Around, Bury Himself Within Her, And Stay There For All Of His Days. He Hadn’t Had A Drop To Drink In Three Years, But He Was Intoxicated Now, Bubbling With A Lightness He’d Never Thought To Feel Again.

Sometimes There Are Reasons For Our Fears That We Can’t Quite Explain. Sometimes It’s Just Something We Feel In Our Bones, Something We Know To Be True, But Would Sound Foolish To Anyone Else.