A Night Like This Quotes

“He said he loved me,” she whispered.

Daniel swallowed, and he had the strangest sensation, almost a premonition of what it must like to be a parent.

Someday, God willing, he’d have a daughter, and that daughter would look like the woman standing in front of him, and if ever she looked at him with that bewildered expression, whispering, “He said he loved me . . .”

Nothing short of murder would be an acceptable response.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Then Elizabeth came, bearing a tray of cakes and sweets, and finally Harriet, who carried with her a small sheaf of paper—her current opus, Henry VIII and the Unicorn of Doom .
“I’m not certain Frances is going to be appeased by an evil unicorn,” Anne told her.
Harriet looked up with one arched brow. “She did not specify that it must be a good unicorn.”
Anne grimaced. “You’re going to have a battle on your hands, that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”
Harriet shrugged, then said, “I’m going to begin in act two. Act one is a complete disaster. I’ve had to rip it completely apart.”
“Because of the unicorn?”
“No,” Harriet said with a grimace. “I got the order of the wives wrong. It’s divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, widowed.”
“How cheerful.”
Harriet gave her a bit of a look, then said, “I switched one of the divorces with a beheading.”
“May I give you a bit of advice?” Anne asked.
Harriet looked up.
“Don’t ever let anyone hear you say that out of
context.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Miss Wynter, I think you should be the evil queen,” Harriet said.
“There’s an evil queen?” Daniel echoed. With obvious delight.
“Of course,” Harriet replied. “Every good play has an evil queen.”
Frances actually raised her hand. “And a un—”
“Don’t say it,” Elizabeth growled.
Frances crossed her eyes, put her knife to her forehead in an approximation of a horn, and neighed.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Oh, Daniel,” his mother exclaimed, catching him before he could make his escape, “do come join us. We’re trying to decide if Honoria should be married in lavender-blue or blue-lavender.”
He opened his mouth to ask the difference, then decided against it. “Blue-lavender,” he said firmly, not having a clue as to what he was talking about.
“Do you think so?” his mother responded, frowning. “I really think lavender-blue would be better.”
The obvious question would have been why she’d asked his opinion in the first place, but once again, he decided that the wise man did not make such queries.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Help me. Please?”
She gave him an abashed nod (but not nearly so
abashed as she ought) and turned to Harriet. “I think that Lord Winstead refers to the rhyming qualities of the title.” Harriet blinked a few times. “It doesn’t rhyme.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Elizabeth burst out. “ Finstead Winstead?”
Harriet’s gasp very nearly sucked the air from the room. “I never noticed!” she exclaimed.
“Obviously,” her sister drawled.
“I must have been thinking about you when I wrote
the play,” Harriet said to Daniel. From her expression, he gathered he was meant to feel flattered, so he tried to smile.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Daniel chuckled. Whoever that poor girl was, he hoped his family was paying her well.
And then, finally, she lifted her fingers from the keys as Daisy began her painful violin solo. He watched her exhale, stretching her fingers, and then . . .

She looked up.

Time stopped. It simply stopped. It was the most maudlin and clichéd way of describing it, but those few seconds when her face was lifted toward his . . . they stretched and pulled, melting into eternity.

She was beautiful. But that didn’t explain it. He’d seen beautiful women before. He’d slept with plenty of them, even. But this . . . Her . . . She . . .

Even his thoughts were tongue-tied.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“What about me?” Frances asked.
“The butler,” Harriet replied without even a second of hesitation.
Frances’s mouth immediately opened to protest.
“No, no,” Harriet said. “It’s the best role, I promise. You get to do everything.”
“Except be a unicorn,” Daniel murmured.
Frances tilted her head to the side with a resigned expression.
“The next play,” Harriet finally gave in. “I shall find a way to include a unicorn in the one I’m working on right now.”
Frances pumped both fists in the air. “Huzzah!”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Have you seen Frances?”

He tilted his head to the right. “I believe she’s off rooting about in the bushes.”

Anne followed his gaze uneasily.

“Rooting?”

“She told me she was practicing for the next play.”

Anne blinked at him, not following.

“For when she gets to be a unicorn.”

“Oh, of course.” She chuckled. “She is rather tenacious, that one.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Then, with a cheeky quirk of his brows, he leaned forward and murmured, “Would it be improper of me to admit that I am inordinately flattered by your attention to
the details of my face?”
Anne snorted out a laugh. “Improper and ludicrous.”
“It is true that I have never felt quite so colorful,” he said, with a clearly feigned sigh.
“You are a veritable rainbow,” she agreed. “I see red and . . . well, no orange and yellow, but certainly green and blue and violet.”
“You forgot indigo.”
“I did not,” she said, with her very best governess voice. “I have always found it to be a foolish addition to the spectrum. Have you ever actually seen a rainbow?”
“Once or twice,” he replied, looking rather amused by her rant.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“His brows rose. “And how is it that you have come to be such an expert on scrapes and bruises?”
“I’m a governess,” she said. Because really, that ought to be explanation enough.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“With an admittedly goofy spring in his step, he made his way across the main hall to the breakfast room, pausing only to peek through the sitting room at the large window, which some enterprising footman had pulled open to let in the warm, spring air. What a day, what a day. Birds were chirping, the sky was blue, the grass was green (as always, but it was still an excellent thing), and he had kissed Miss Wynter.
He nearly bounced right off his feet, just thinking about it.
It had been splendid. Marvelous. A kiss to deny all previous kisses. Really, he didn’t know what he’d been doing with all those other women, because whatever had happened when his lips had touched theirs, those had not been kisses.
Not like last night.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“I want you. I want you now, in every way a man can want a woman.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Finally, he reached his street. It was quiet, blessedly so, and the only sound was his own groan as he lifted his foot to the first stone step at the entrance to Winstead House. The only sound, that was, until someone whispered his name.
He froze. “Anne?”
A figure stepped out of the shadows, trembling in the night. “Daniel,” she said again, and if she said anything more, he did not hear it. He was down the stairs in an instant, and she was in his arms, and for the first time in nearly a week, the world felt steady on its axis.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“You should do that more often,” he said. “Laugh, I mean.”
“I know.” But that sounded sad, and she didn’t want to be sad, so she added, “I don’t often get to torture grown men, though.”
“Really?” he murmured. “I would think you do it all the time.”
She looked at him.
“When you walk into a room,” he said softly, “the air changes.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“I--" She swallowed, perhaps summoning her courage, then continued, "I would not lie to you and say that I did not want this."
"Me," he cut in peevishly. "You wanted me."
She closed her eyes. “Yes,” she finally said, “I wanted you.”
Part of him wanted to interrupt again, to remind her that she still wanted him, that it wasn’t and would never be in the past.
“But I can’t have you,” she said quietly, “and because of that, you can’t have me.”
And then, to his complete astonishment, he asked, “What if I married you?”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This

“Tea?” Daniel asked, signaling to the innkeeper.
“Please. Or anything that is hot.” She pulled off her gloves, pausing to frown at a little hole that was growing at the tip of her right forefinger. That wouldn’t do. She needed all the dignity she could muster in that finger.
Heaven knew she shook it at the girls often enough.”
― Julia Quinn, A Night Like This