The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)

by Julia Quinn

And then there was Kate Sheffield. The bane of his existence. And the object of his desires.

this is THE line of all time truly

Gently he set his hand on her upper arm and gave it the tiniest of squeezes. “I’m here, Kate,” he murmured. “Everything will be all right.”

awwwww his lover boy era

But she wished—oh, how she wished—that when he was ready to face his fears, she could be the one to help him.

It was that spark. That damnable spark that never seemed to dim between them. That awful prickle of awareness that burned every time she entered a room, or took a breath, or pointed a toe. That sinking feeling that he could, if he let himself, love her.

Furthermore, he always dances with her one more time than is considered de rigueur. Considering how many husbands don’t like to dance with their wives at all, this is romantic stuff, indeed.

smiling so bad rn