Quotes by Julia Quinn

My mother is convinced that yellow is a happy color and that a happy girl would get a husband.-Penelope Featherington

The youngest one,” she interrupted. “The youngest son, I mean. The one who is unmarried.”“I know who he is.”“Very well, then. What is wrong with him?” At that she cocked her head to the side and waited expectantly.He thought for a moment. “Nothing.”“You—wait.” She blinked. “Nothing?”He shook his head, then shifted his weight a little; his good foot was beginning to fall asleep. “Nothing comes immediately to mind.” It was true. She could do a good deal worse than Gregory Bridgerton.“Really?” she asked suspiciously. “You find nothing at all objectionable about him.”Marcus pretended to think about this a bit longer. Clearly he was supposed to be playing a role here, probably that of the villain. Or if not that, then the grumpy old man. “I suppose he’s a bit young,” he said.

You have asked her to marry you, I hopeI might have demanded it, he admitted.Even better

You know all of the young gentlemen better than I do,” Lady Manston continued. “Are there any we should avoid?” All of them, George wanted to say. What about Ashbourne’s son?“No.” “No?” his mother echoed. “No, as in you don’t have an opinion?” “No, as in no. He is not for Billie.” Who, George could not help but note, was watching the mother-son exchange with an odd mix of curiosity and alarm. “Any particular reason?” Lady Manston asked. “He gambles,” George lied. Well, maybe it wasn’t a lie. All gentlemen gambled. He had no idea if the one in question did so to excess. “What about the Billington heir? I think he —” “Also no.” His mother regarded him with an impassive expression. “He’s too young,” George said, hoping it was true. “He is?” She frowned. “I suppose he might be. I can’t remember precisely.

Oh, come now, you two,” Lady Manston said, “surely it can be no surprise that I have long hoped for an alliance between the Rokesbys and Bridgertons.” “Alliance?” Billie echoed, and all George could think was that it was a terrible, clinical word, one that could never encompass all that he had come to feel for her.

Would you care to dance?” he blurted. “Now?” She smiled adorably. “Is there music?” There wasn’t. It was some testament to how foolish in love he’d become that he did not even feel embarrassed.

For a moment he could do nothing but close his eyes. Was this a taste of the rest of his life as Billie Bridgerton’s husband? Was he destined to live in terror, wondering what sort of danger she’d thrown herself into that day? Was it worth it?“George?” she whispered. She sounded uneasy. Had she seen something in his expression? A sign of doubt? He touched her cheek, and he looked into her eyes. He saw his whole world there.“I love you,” he said. Someone gasped. It might have been his mother. “I cannot live without you,” he said, “and in fact, I refuse to do so. So no, you will not be going on some ill-advised mission to the coast to hand off a potentially dangerous package to people you don’t know. Because if anything happened to you…” His voice broke, but he didn’t care. “If anything happened to you, it would kill me. And I’d like to think you love me too much to let that happen.” Billie stared at him in wonder, her softly parted lips trembling as she blinked back tears. “You love me?” she whispered. He nearly rolled his eyes. “Of course I do.” “You never said.” “I must have done.” “You didn’t. I would have remembered.” “I would remember, too,” he said softly, “if you’d ever said it to me.” “I love you,” she said immediately. “I do. I love you so much. I —” “Thank God,” Lady Manston exclaimed. George and Billie both turned.

He touched her cheek, and he looked into her eyes. He saw his whole world there

You have a freckle,” he murmured. “Right” – he leaned down and dropped a light kiss near the inside of her elbow – “here.” “You’ve seen it before,” she said softly. It wasn’t in an immodest spot; she had plenty of frocks with short sleeves. He chuckled. “But I’ve never given it it’s proper due.” “Really.” “Mmm-hmm.” He lifted her arm, twisting it just a bit so that he could pretend to be studying her freckle. “It is clearly the most delightful beauty mark in all of England.” A marvelous sense of warmth and contentment melted through her. Even as her body burned for his, she could not stop herself from encouraging his teasing conversation. “Only England?” “Well, I haven’t traveled very extensively abroad…” “Oh, really?” “And you know…” His voice dropped to a husky growl. “There may be other freckles right here in this room. You could have one here.” He dipped a finger under the bodice of her nightgown, then moved his other hand to her hip. “Or here.” “I might,” she agreed. “The back of your knee,” he said, the words hot against her ear. “You could have one there.” She nodded. She wasn’t sure she was still capable of speech. “One of your toes,” he suggested. “Or your back.” “You should probably check,” she managed to get out. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

Its the curse of motherhood. Youre required to love us even when we vex you.

There were rules among friends, commandments, really, and the most important one was Thou Shalt Not Lust After Thy Friends Sister.

Watch over Honoria, will you? See that she doesn’t marry an idiot.

You have a minute and a half left.Fine, she snapped. Then Ill 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 cant, 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 Danburys ball.

Did you know I have always suspected that men were idiots, Daphne ground out, but I was never positive until today.

Any man, youll soon learn, has an insurmountable need to blame someone else when he is made to look a fool.

She tried to remind herself that beauty was only skin deep, but that didnt 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.It hurts, because deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often very funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.

I can’t help but think that if she was going to kill herself, she might as well have done it earlier. Perhaps when I was a toddler. Or better yet, an infant. It certainly would have made my life easier. I asked my uncle Hugh (who is not really my uncle, but he is married to the stepsister of my current mother’s brother’s wife and he lives quite closeand he’s a vicar) if I would be going to hell for such a thought. He said no, that frankly, it made a lot of sense to him. I do think I prefer his parish to my own.

This was different. He didnt want a woman. He wanted her. And he supposed that if he had to spend the afternoon being strange, sad, and disfigured just to be in her company, it would be well worth it. Then he remembered the wart. He turned to Miss Wynter and said firmly, I am not getting a wart.Really, a man had to draw the line somewhere.

Yes?When you said you werent angry...Yes?Were you?I was rather annoyed, he admitted.But not angry? She sounded as if she didnt believe him.Believe me, Henry, when I get angry, youll know.What happens?His eyes clouded over slightly before he answered. You dont want to know.She believed him.

Oh, go ahead and giggle, Lady Danbury sighed. Ive found that the only way to avoid parental frustration is to view him as a source of amusement.