When He Was Wicked (Bridgertons, #6)

by Julia Quinn

In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and clear that one feels as if one’s been hit in the chest, all the breath knocked out, and one knows, absolutely knows without the merest hint of a shadow of a doubt that one’s life will never be the same.

when a man asks for your hand, you will have to judge him on his merits and not by some arbitrary standard you have set out ahead of time.”

“It isn’t gossip,” Hyacinth retorted. “It’s the honest dissemination of information.”

Nothing had the power to irritate like the reflection of one’s own behavior in someone else.

And she never knew that he lay awake the whole time, his lips at her temple, his hand against her hair. Whispering her name. Whispering other words as well.

Thank you, Michael, for letting my son love her first.