An Offer From a Gentleman (Bridgertons, #3)

by Julia Quinn

“Oh, Benedict,” she sighed. “Oh, my love.”

It was like he was a green lad of sixteen, not an experienced man of thirty.

two pump chump

It would be perfect. It had to be perfect. He needed her to love this. He needed her to love him.

God, how she loved this man.

“Sophie,” he said incredulously, “you know I cannot marry you.”

but he will

How could she say she loved him? It made the pain that much more intense.

“If I have a child,” she said, her voice starting to crack, “do you know how much I would love it? More than life, more than breath, more than anything. How could I hurt my own child the way I’ve been hurt? How could I subject her to the same kind of pain?”

“Then she wouldn’t feel the same sort of pain,” Benedict said with a shrug. “Because I wouldn’t reject her either.”

“They say that a smart person learns from her mistakes,” she interrupted, her voice forcefully ending his protest. “But a truly smart person learns from other people’s mistakes.”

“You would kiss me, and then you would hate yourself. And it would only take a second.”

It forced Sophie to remember everything that she didn’t have, reminded her of what she’d never have: a family of her own. Someone to love. Someone who’d love her. All within the bounds of respectability and marriage.

“It’s not your looks, precisely, but rather the way you hold yourself, if that makes any sense.”

Sophie said to Hyacinth, “Fetch me when they arrive. I love children and would be happy to help.”

PLEASEEEE

Benedict felt a lump forming in his throat, and he looked away, not wanting her to see the moisture forming in his own eyes. Would anyone cry for him more than a decade after he died? It was a humbling thing to be in the presence of true love, and Benedict suddenly felt so damned jealous—of his own parents.

“I would have to say,” she said for a third time, “that I love you very much and will support you in all things.” She cleared her throat. “If indeed we are talking about you.”

oh i love you violet

And if you marry someone of, say”—she cleared her throat—“the servant class,

SHE KNOWSSSSSS

“But,” she added, “should you decide to join your life with someone not of our class, I will of course support you in every possible manner.”

😭🫂

“You are my son,” she said simply. “I would give my life for you.”

VIOLETTTTT

Love. He loved Sophie. That was all that should have mattered. He’d thought he’d loved the woman from the masquerade. He’d thought he’d wanted to marry her. But he understood now that that had been nothing but a dream, a fleeting fantasy of a woman he barely knew. But Sophie was … Sophie was Sophie. And that was everything he needed.

He saw her. Her. Not Sophie. Her. And yet it was Sophie.

HE KNOWS

“I searched for you,”

“For six bloody months,” he cursed. “It was as if you fell right off the face of the earth.”

“No,” she said, trying to make her voice calm and even. “It wasn’t that. It could never be that.”

“You are,” she said, her eyes never leaving Sophie’s face, “the sort of woman I would like for my son. Our acquaintance has not been a long one, but I know your character and I know your heart. And I wish—”

IM CRYINH

Colin sighed as he pushed up his mask. “Why don’t you just do us all a favor and marry the girl?”

But it took his heart less than a second to know that a quiet life with Sophie was by far preferable to a public life without her.

The woman who could make his heart sing with a simple smile, the woman who could fill him with contentment just through the simple act of sitting by him while he sketched—that was the real Sophie. And he loved her.

“I love you, too, big brother.” Colin’s smile, always a little bit lopsided, grew. “Now get the hell out of here.”

hehehehe

As This Author has never liked Lady Penwood, she can only say, “Huzzah for Posy!”

HEHEHEE

But Sophie just loved that Araminta, for whom position and power were everything, had just witnessed Sophie being kissed by one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

HAHA

“I beg your pardon,” Lady Bridgerton said in a remarkably polite voice, “but if she truly meant nothing to you, you’d hardly be here in this filthy jail, attempting to have her hanged for theft.”

GET HERRR

“This woman,” Benedict said, his loud, deep voice effectively blotting out all other attempts at an answer, “has accused my fiancée of theft.”

FIANCÉE?!

“Oh, for the love of God, Mother, I took the shoe clips.”

POSYYYY

“And I am more popular,” Lady Bridgerton returned, the snide words so out of character that both Benedict’s and Sophie’s mouths dropped open.

GAGGEDDDDD

Posy nodded again. “And no one stole her wedding ring. It’s in her jewelry box at home.”

IM CRYINGGH

And before anyone could even think to intervene, she had planted her fist squarely into Araminta’s left eye and sent the older woman sprawling.

“That was for not loving your daughters equally.”

GO SOPHIEE

“Have I told you lately,” he whispered in her ear, “how much I love you?”

BENEDICTTTT

“Good.” He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you. It’s a privilege to be your son.”

IM CRYINGGG

“I love you,” he said. Her lips parted. “I want to marry you,” he said. She stopped breathing. “And I don’t care about your parents or my mother’s bargain with Lady Penwood to make you respectable.” He stared down at her, his dark eyes meltingly in love. “I would have married you no matter what.”

CRYING

When I thought about what it was in life I really needed—not what I wanted, but what I needed—the only thing that kept coming up was you.”

I would die before sharing you. How could I ask you to do the same?”

She touched his cheek. “You’re the finest person I know. I adore your family, but I love you.”

He drew back. “Would you care for a bath?”

SHE STINKY

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “Everything I ever dreamed of.”

Sophie reached up and touched his face. “I love you,” she whispered. “I have always loved you. I think I loved you before I even knew you.”

Something wet hit her cheek. A single tear, fallen from his eye.

MY HEART

“You are the reason I exist,” she said softly, “the very reason I was born.”

He loved her. Suddenly the world was a very simple place. He loved her, and that was all that mattered.

This time they had been deliberate. They had chosen more than passion; they had chosen each other.