“Love's about finding the one person who makes your heart complete. Who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. Its about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing all the way to your bones that she's simply the best person you've ever known.”
― Julia Quinn, The Viscount Who Loved Me

“His mouth captured hers, trying to show her with his kiss what he was still learning to express in words. He loved her. He worshipped her. He'd walk across fire for her. He—

—still had the audience of her three brothers.

Slowly breaking the kiss, he turned his face to the side. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were still standing in the foyer. Anthony was studying the ceiling, Benedict was pretending to inspect his fingernails, and Colin was staring quite shamelessly.”
― Julia Quinn, The Duke and I

“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.”
― Julia Quinn, The Viscount Who Loved Me

“Well,” he said with an affected sigh, “you have my approval, at least.”
“Why?” Hyacinth asked suspiciously.
“It would be an excellent match,” he continued. “If nothing else, think of the children.”
She knew she’d regret it, but still she had to ask. “What children?”
He grinned. “The lovely lithping children you could have together. Garethhhh and Hyathinthhhh. Hyathinth and Gareth. And the thublime Thinclair tots.”
Hyacinth stared at him like he was an idiot.
Which he was, she was quite certain of it.
She shook her head. “How on earth Mother managed to give birth to seven perfectly normal children and one freak is beyond me."
"Thith way to the nurthery.” Gregory laughed as she
headed back into the room. “With the thcrumptious little
Tharah and Thamuel Thinclair. Oh, yeth, and don’t forget
wee little Thuthannah!”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“Gareth sucked in a breath. Hyacinth’s brother wasn’t going to make this easy on him. But that didn’t matter. He had vowed to do this right, and he would not be cowed.

He looked up, meeting the viscount’s dark eyes with steady purpose. “I would like to marry Hyacinth,” he said. And then, because the viscount did not say anything, because he didn’t even move, Gareth added, “Er, if she’ll have me.”

And then about eight things happened at once. Or perhaps there were merely two or three, and it just seemed like eight, because it was all so unexpected.

First, the viscount exhaled, although that did seem to understate the case. It was more of a sigh, actually—a huge, tired, heartfelt sigh that made the man positively deflate in front of Gareth. Which was astonishing. Gareth had seen the viscount on many occasions and was quite familiar with his reputation. This was not a man who sagged or groaned.

His lips seemed to move through the whole thing, too, and if Gareth were a more suspicious man, he would have thought that the viscount had said, “Thank you, Lord.”

Combined with the heavenward tilt of the viscount’s eyes, it did seem the most likely translation.

And then, just as Gareth was taking all of this in, Lord Bridgerton let the palms of his hands fall against the desk with surprising force, and he looked Gareth squarely in the eye as he said, “Oh, she’ll have you. She will definitely have you.”

It wasn’t quite what Gareth had expected. “I beg your pardon,” he said, since truly, he could think of nothing else.

“I need a drink,” the viscount said, rising to his feet. “A celebration is in order, don’t you think?”

“Er…yes?”

Lord Bridgerton crossed the room to a recessed bookcase and plucked a cut-glass decanter off one of the shelves. “No,” he said to himself, putting it haphazardly back into place, “the good stuff, I think.” He turned to Gareth, his eyes taking on a strange, almost giddy light. “The good stuff, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Ehhhh…” Gareth wasn’t quite sure what to make of this.

“The good stuff,” the viscount said firmly. He moved some books to the side and reached behind to pull out what looked to be a very old bottle of cognac. “Have to keep it hidden,” he explained, pouring it liberally into two glasses.

“Servants?” Gareth asked.

“Brothers.” He handed Gareth a glass. “Welcome to the family.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“Oh, God, Francesca,Now there’s a good one.Why?Why? Why?” He gave each one a different tenor, as if he were testing out the word, asking it to
different people.
“Why?” he asked again, this time with increased volume
as he turned around to face her.
“Why? It’s
because I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when you
were with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but I
love you, anyway.”
Francesca sagged against the door.
“How’s that for a witty little joke?” he mocked. “I loveyou. I loveyou, my cousin’s wife. I loveyou, the
one woman I can never have. I loveyou, Francesca Bridger-ton Stirling.”
― Julia Quinn, When He Was Wicked

“This is a wonderful day,” Anthony was muttering to himself. “A wonderful day.” He looked up sharply at Gareth. “You don’t have sisters, do you?”
“None,” Gareth confirmed.
“I am in possession of four,” Anthony said, tossing back at least a third of the contents of his glass. “Four. And now they’re all off my hands. I’m done,” he said, looking as if he might break into a jig at any moment. “I’m free.”
“You’ve daughters, don’t you?” Gareth could not resist reminding him.
“Just one, and she’s only three. I have years before I have to go through this again. If I’m lucky, she’ll convert to Catholicism and become a nun.
Gareth choked on his drink.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Anthony said, looking at the bottle. “Aged twenty-four years.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever ingested anything quite so ancient,” Gareth murmured.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“She tried to remind herself that beauty was only skin deep, but that didn't offer any helpful excuses when she was berating herself for never knowing what to say to people. There was nothing more depressing than an ugly girl with no personality.”
― Julia Quinn, Romancing Mister Bridgerton

“Miss Bridgerton,” he said, “the devil himself couldn’t scare you.”

She forced her eyes to meet his. “That’s not a compliment, is it?”

He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across her knuckles. “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself,” he murmured.

To all who observed, he was the soul of propriety, but Hyacinth caught the daring gleam in his eye, and she felt the breath leave her body as tingles of electricity rushed across her skin. Her lips parted, but she had nothing to say, not a single word. There was nothing but air, and even that seemed in short supply.

And then he straightened as if nothing had happened and said, “Do let me know what you decide.”

She just stared at him.

“About the compliment,” he added. “I am sure you will wish to let me know how I feel about you.”

Her mouth fell open.

He smiled. Broadly. “Speechless, even. I’m to be commended.”

“You—”

“No. No,” he said, lifting one hand in the air and pointing toward her as if what he really wanted to do was place his finger on her lips and shush her. “Don’t ruin it. The moment is too rare.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“I understand that you are an accomplished swords-man,” she finally said.
He eyed her curiously. Where was she going with this? “I like to fence, yes,” he replied.
“I have always wanted to learn.”
“Good God,” Gregory grunted.
“I would be quite good at it,” she protested.
“I’m sure you would,” her brother replied, “which is why you should never be allowed within thirty feet of a sword.” He turned to Gareth. “She’s quite diabolical.”
“Yes, I’d noticed,” Gareth murmured, deciding that maybe there might be a bit more to Hyacinth’s brother than he had thought.
Gregory shrugged, reaching for a piece of shortbread. “It’s probably why we can’t seem to get her married off.”
“Gregory!” This came from Hyacinth, but that was only because Lady Bridgerton had excused herself and followed one of the footmen into the hall.
“It’s a compliment!” Gregory protested. “Haven’t you waited your entire life for me to agree that you’re smarter than any of the poor fools who have attempted to court you?”
“You might find it difficult to believe,” Hyacinth shot back, “but I haven’t been going to bed each night thinking to myself—Oh, I do wish my brother would offer me something that passes for a compliment in his twisted mind.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“First of all, this goes no further than this room."
"Agreed," she said quickly.
Anthony looked pointedly at Simon.
"Of course," he replied.
"Mother would be devastated if she learned the truth."
"Actually," Simon murmured, "I rather think your mother would applaud our ingenuity, but since you have quite obviously known
her longer, I bow to your discretion."
Anthony shot him a frosty look. "Second, under no circumstances are the two of you to be alone together. Ever."
"Well, that should be easy," Daphne said, "as we wouldn't be allowed to be alone if we were courting in truth, anyway."
Simon recalled their brief interlude in the hall at Lady Danbury's house, and found it a pity that he wasn't to be allowed any more private time with Daphne, but he recognized a brick wall when he saw one, especially when said wall happened to be named
Anthony Bridgerton. So he just nodded and murmured his assent.
"Third—"
"There is a third?" Daphne asked.            
"There would be thirty if I could think of them," Anthony growled.                                       
"Very well," she acceded, looking most aggrieved. "If you must.”
― Julia Quinn, The Duke and I

“He smiled, and suddenly she knew that his words were true. Everything would be all right. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Tragedy couldn't coexist in a world with one of Colin's smiles.”
― Julia Quinn

“You’ll be seeing him tomorrow night, anyway.”

“I am?” Hyacinth asked, at precisely the moment Mr. St. Clair said, “She will?”

“You’re accompanying me to the Pleinsworth poetry reading,” Lady D told her grandson. “Or have you forgotten?”

Hyacinth sat back, enjoying the sight of Gareth St. Clair’s mouth opening and closing in obvious distress. He looked a bit like a fish, she decided. A fish with the features of a Greek god, but still, a fish.

“I really…” he said. “That is to say, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will be there,” Lady D said. “You promised.”

He regarded her with a stern expression. “I cannot imagine—”

“Well, if you didn’t promise, you should have done, and if you love me…”

Hyacinth coughed to cover her laugh, then tried not to smirk when Mr. St. Clair shot a dirty look in her direction.

“When I die,” he said, “surely my epitaph will read, ‘He loved his grandmother when no one else would.’”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Lady Danbury asked.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“Gregory,” she said, “you cannot leave me here. What if someone finds you and removes you from the house? Who will know I am here? And what if…and what if…and then what if…”
He smiled, enjoying her officiousness too much to actually listen to her words. She was definitely herself again.
“When this is all over,” he said, “I shall bring you a sandwich.”
That stopped her short. “A sandwich? A sandwich?”
― Julia Quinn, On the Way to the Wedding

“Milk?” Lady Bridgerton asked.
“Thank you,” Gareth replied. “No sugar, if you please.”
“Hyacinth takes hers with three,” Gregory said, reaching for a piece of shortbread.
“Why,” Hyacinth ground out, “would he care?”
“Well,” Gregory replied, taking a bite and chewing, “he is your special friend.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“He ought to buy her a new dress. She would never accept it, of course, but maybe if her current garments were accidentally burned...

...But how could he manage to burn her dress? She’d have to not be wearing it, and that posed a certain challenge in and of itself...”
― Julia Quinn, An Offer From a Gentleman

“You have a minute and a half left."

"Fine," she snapped. "Then I'll reduce this conversation to one single fact. Today I had six callers. Six! Can you recall the last time I had six callers?"
Anthony just stared at her blankly.

"I can't," Daphne continued, in fine form now. "Because it has never happened. Six men marched up our steps, knocked on our door, and gave Humboldt their cards. Six men brought me flowers, engaged me in conversation, and one even recited poetry."

Simon winced.

"And do you know why?" she demanded, her voice rising dangerously. "Do you?"
Anthony, in his somewhat belatedly arrived wisdom, held his tongue.
"It is all because he"—she jabbed her forefinger toward Simon—"was kind enough to feign interest in me last night at Lady Danbury's ball.”
― Julia Quinn, The Duke and I

“He turned to her. “Didn’t you see the lightning strike the steeple?”

She recovered with a sip of tea, then smiled sweetly. “I was listening too devotedly to the sermon.”

“Claptrap last week,” Lady D announced. “I think the priest is getting old.”

Gareth opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, his grandmother’s cane swung around in a remarkably steady horizontal arc. “Don’t,” she warned, “make a comment beginning with the words, ‘Coming from you…’”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he demurred.

“Of course you would,” she stated. “You wouldn’t be my grandson if you wouldn’t.” She turned to Hyacinth. “Don’t you agree?”

To her credit, Hyacinth folded her hands in her lap and said, “Surely there is no right answer to that question.”

“Smart girl,” Lady D said approvingly.

“I learn from the master.”

Lady Danbury beamed.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“I’m not trying to impress you,” he replied, glancing up at the front of the room. “Gads,” he said, blinking in surprise. “What is that ?”
Hyacinth followed his gaze. Several of the Pleinsworth progeny, one of whom appeared to be costumed as a shepherdess, were milling about.
“Now that’s an interesting coincidence,” Gareth murmured.
“It might be time to start bleating,” she agreed.
“I thought this was meant to be a poetry recitation.”
Hyacinth grimaced and shook her head. “An unexpected change to the program, I’m afraid.”
“From iambic pentameter to Little Bo Peep?” he asked doubtfully. “It does seem a stretch.”
Hyacinth gave him a rueful look. “I think there will still be iambic pentameter.”
His mouth fell open. “From Peep?”
She nodded, holding up the program that had been resting in her lap. “It’s an original composition,” she said, as if that would explain everything. “By Harriet Pleinsworth.The Shepherdess, the Unicorn, and Henry VIII .”
“All of them? At once?”
“I’m not jesting,” she said, shaking her head.
“Of course not. Even you couldn’t have made this up.”
Hyacinth decided to take that as a compliment.
“Why didn’t I receive one of these?” he asked, taking the program from her.
“I believe it was decided not to hand them out to the gentlemen,” Hyacinth said, glancing about the room. “One has to admire Lady Pleinsworth’s foresight, actually. You’d surely flee if you knew what was in store for you.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“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.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“In his heart, she’d been smiling for him.

But now she was smiling at Colin Bridgerton, he of the famous charm and sparkling green eyes.”
― Julia Quinn, Just Like Heaven

“Why don’t you purchase an Italian dictionary? I will assume the expense.”
“I have one,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s very good. Half the words are missing.”
“Half?”
“Well, some,” she amended. “But truly, that’s not the problem.”
He blinked, waiting for her to continue.
She did. Of course. “I don’t think Italian is the author’s native tongue,” she said.
“The author of the dictionary?” he queried.
“Yes. It’s not terribly idiomatic.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“Now doesn't even compare to tomorrow. And tomorrow couldn't possibly compete with the next day. As perfect as I feel this very moment, tomorrow is going to be even better.”
― Julia Quinn, The Duke and I

“I can live with you hating me... I just can't live without you.”
― Julia Quinn, An Offer From a Gentleman

“Sometimes there is a summer evening so perfect the very air seems charged with magic. In England, such evenings are not only rare, they are intensely brittle.”
― Margaret Buntrock, Pains Hill

“Lucy knew that she was not destined to feel that way. If it existed---if love existed the way Greggory Bridgerton imagined it---ut dud bit wait for her”
― Julia Quinn, On the Way to the Wedding

“Lucy knew that she was not destined to feel that way. If it existed---if love existed the way Gregor Bridgerton imagined it---it did not wait for her.”
― Julia Quinn, On the Way to the Wedding

“He is the only person I can think of who you wouldn't---or rather, couldn't---run into the ground.”
― Julia Quinn, It's in His Kiss

“She was, he thought, born to rest in the shelter of his arms. And he was born to hold her.”
― Julia Quinn, An Offer From a Gentleman

“If she was the stars, he was her sky. If he was the fire, she was his frost. She captivated him. Completed him.”
― Hillary Raymer, All the Chaos of Constellations