When He Was Wicked: Bridgerton (Bridgertons Book 6)

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John, who, damn it all, was like a brother to him, had been more of a brother to him than his own had been. John, whose family had taken him in when his father had died. John, whose father had raised him and taught him to be a man. John, with whom— She would have approved of Francesca Bridgerton. Grandmother Stirling would surely have turned her nose up upon learning that Francesca’s father was a mere viscount, but the Bridgertons were an old and immensely popular —and, when the fancy took them, powerful— family. Plus, Francesca’s spine was straight and her manner was proud, and her sense of humor was sly and subversive. If she’d been fifty years older and not nearly so attractive, she would have made quite a fine companion for Grandmother Stirling. Poor John,” Francesca said, stepping outside into the brisk night air. She took a deep inhale, then let out a sigh. “I detest headaches myself. They always seem to lay me especially low.” from Michael Stirling to his cousin John, the Earl of Kilmartin, posted from the 52nd Foot Guards during the Napoleonic Wars I assure you,” Francesca continued, idly trailing the pads of her fingertips along the surface of the piano keys without actually pressing any into sound, “I’m well aware of whom I married.”

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But when she smiled at him he couldn’t say no. And he certainly wasn’t strong enough to deny himself an hour in her presence. To Scotland?” Francesca asked, pressing gently against B-flat on the pianoforte. “With the season so close?” John managed a smile. “I’d just finished telling Michael that I was planning to do just that. I’ll have Simons wake me in time for my meeting.” Oh, he hid it well. It wouldn’t do to be visibly out of sorts. Then some annoyingly perceptive soul might actually take notice, and —God forbid— inquire as to his welfare. And while Michael Stirling held a not unsubstantiated pride in his ability to dissemble and deceive (he had, after all, seduced more women than anyone cared to count, and had somehow managed to do it all without ever once being challenged to a duel)— Well, the sodding truth of it was that he’d never been in love before, and if ever there was a time that a man might lose his ability to maintain a façade under direct questioning, this was probably it. All he could have was her smile and her company, and pathetic idiot that he was, he was willing to take it.

Not with two strong men as escorts,” she said, “and besides, the streets in Mayfair are well lit. We shall be perfectly safe.” She turned to her husband. “What do you say, darling?” John nodded. He took his position in the House of Lords very seriously. Michael had often wondered if he’d have approached the duty with as much gravity, had he been born a lord. Michael could have kissed him for his interference. John of course just thought that he was saving his cousin from needless feminine nagging; there was no way he could know the truth— that Michael was trying to compute the level of guilt one might feel for being in love with one’s cousin’s wife and one’s wife’s sister. This cookie is used to a profile based on user's interest and display personalized ads to the users. Michael glanced out the window. All vestiges of daylight had left the sky. “Isn’t it a bit late for that?” he asked.

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I will tell her to leave you alone,” John said, “although you should know that she only nags because she loves you.” We. We. Not I, not John. We. A subtle reminder that they were a unit. John and Francesca. Lord and Lady Kilmartin. She hadn’t meant it that way, of course, but it was how he heard it all the same.I think not,” Michael said sharply. As if he cared to witness their anniversary celebration. Truly, all it would do was remind him of what he could never have. Which would then remind him the guilt. Or amplify it. Reminders were rather unnecessary; he lived with it every day.

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After a lifetime of chasing women, of smiling slyly as they chased him, of allowing himself to be caught but never permitting his heart to become engaged, he took one look at Francesca Bridgerton and fell so fast and hard into love it was a wonder he managed to remain standing. Unfortunately for Michael, however, Francesca's surname was to remain Bridgerton for only a mere thirty-six hours longer—the occasion of their meeting was, lamentably, a supper celebrating her imminent wedding to his cousin.

For Michael Stirling, London's most infamous bachelor, that moment came the first time he laid eyes on Francesca Bridgerton. Unfortunately for Michael, however, Francesca's surname was to remain Bridgerton for only a mere thirty-six hours longer - the occasion of their meeting was, lamentably, a supper celebrating her imminent wedding to his cousin... One of my favorite scenes in this book is when Violet and Francesca talk about widowhood. Readers have long asked to learn more about Violet, and I realized that I wanted to learn more, too.

When He Was Wicked - Julia Quinn | Author of Historical

John shook his head. “Hate the stuff. It makes my mind fuzzy, and I need my wits about me for the meeting with Liverpool.” Do I?” John asked, wincing as he pressed his fingers harder into the skin of his temple. “I think I’ll lie down, if you don’t mind. I don’t need to leave for an hour.” Michael nodded. “You look pale,” he said, why, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as if it was going to change John’s mind about the laudanum. Michael produced an excellent forgery of a smile and lifted his glass aloft. “Just thirsty,” he said, maintaining the perfect picture of a bon vivant.Which always left Michael a little worried. He thought he hid his feelings well, but what if she knew? She would never speak of it, of course, never even allude to it. He rather suspected they were ironically alike that way; if Francesca suspected he was in love with her, she would never alter her manner in any way. After a lifetime of chasing women, of smiling slyly as they chased him, of allowing himself to be caught and then turning the tables until he was the victor, of caressing and kissing and making love to them but never actually allowing his heart to become engaged, he took one look at Francesca Bridgerton and fell so fast and so hard into love it was a wonder he managed to remain standing. The most critical seven minutes in Michael Stirling’s life, and he hadn’t even been alive for them. In every life there is a turning point. A moment so tremendous, so sharp and breathtaking, that one knows one's life will never be the same. For Michael Stirling, London's most infamous rake, that moment came the first time he laid eyes on Francesca Bridgerton.