When He Was Wicked （Bridgertons #6）
Julia Quinn
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The Bridgerton Basics:
Ms. Quinn Fills You In
What is the order of the Bridgerton books?
Julia Quinn:
Book 1: The Duke and I Book 2: The Viscount Who Loved Me Book 3: An Offer From A Gentleman Book 4: Romancing Mr. Bridgerton Book 5: To Sir Phillip, With Love Book 6: When He Was Wicked Will you write books for all eight Bridgerton siblings?
Julia Quinn: Yes.
Will you write books about their children?
Julia Quinn: I don’t know.
Why was there no mention of Lady Whistledown in To Sir Phillip, With Love? I thought for sure there would be a scene where Eloise learned the truth!
Julia Quinn: Because Lady Whistledown had nothing to do with the plot for To Sir Phillip, With Love. The introduction of Lady Whistledown and “the big secret” would have been irrelevant, not to mention confusing for readers who have not read the previous Bridgerton books.
I do like to refer to items from previous books （Anthony’s fear of bees, for example, or Colin’s ravenous appetite）， but only when they make sense within the framework of the story I’m currently telling. While the Bridgerton books are a loosely connected series, each title, first and foremost, must stand on its own as an individual novel.
I did think about this, however, while I was writing the novel, so my answer is: Colin didn’t tell Eloise because he was so furious with her for running off. Keeping her （a woman who likes to know everything!） out of the loop would be, to him, the perfect revenge.
Will you ever write a story for Violet Bridgerton?
Julia Quinn: The answer, I think, is no. Her love for Edmund was so strong and deep that I have difficulty imagining her ever remarrying. I have received requests to write their story, but I wonder if it would be too bittersweet, since so many readers would already know that he would die young.
What about Francesca Bridgerton? She was a widow in Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. What happened to her?
Julia Quinn: I’m still figuring that out. Look for her story （in which she finds love with her second husband） in summer 2004.
Who will get a story after Francesca?
Julia Quinn: Hyacinth.
What happened to Posy Reiling （from An Offer from A Gentleman）？
Julia Quinn: Posy married a vicar and now lives a few miles away from Benedict and Sophie in Wiltshire. Check out To Sir Phillip, With Love for a little update on her.
In Romancing Mr. Bridgerton, you thank Lisa Kleypas and Stephanie Laurens for the gracious use of their characters. Which characters were those?
Julia Quinn: I thought it would be fun to pay a little homage to my friends and colleagues, so in chapter one of Romancing Mr. Bridgerton, Penelope is reading a book called Mathilda by S.R. Fielding. This book played a big role in Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas （S.R. is actually Sara, the heroine）。 And in the Lady Whistledown column opening chapter nine, I mention Michael Anstruther-Wetherby, who is the brother of Honoria Anstruther-Wetherby, heroine of Devil’s Bride, the first book of Stephanie Laurens’s Cynster series. （I think he’s supposed to get his own book one of these days.）
Are The Further Observations Of Lady Whistledown and Lady Whistedown Strikes Back Bridgerton books?
Not really. The Bridgertons don’t play a role in the anthology, but since Lady Whistledown was such a part of the first four Bridgerton novels, I consider them honorary Bridgerton books.
Bridgerton
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Part One
March, 1820
London, England
Chapter 1
…I wouldn’t call it a jolly good time, but it’s not as bad as that. There are women, after all, and where there are women, I’m bound to make merry.
—from Michael Stirling to his cousin John, the Earl of Kilmartin, posted from the 52nd Foot Guards during the Napoleonic Wars
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.
For Michael Stirling, that moment came the first time he laid eyes on Francesca Bridgerton.
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.
Unfortunately for Michael, however, Francesca’s surname was to remain Bridgerton a mere thirty-six hours longer; the occasion of their meeting was, lamentably, a supper celebrating her imminent wedding to his cousin.
Life was ironic that way, Michael liked to think in his more polite moods.
In his less polite moods, he used a different adjective entirely.
And his moods, since falling in love with his first cousin’s wife, were not often polite.
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 fa?ade under direct questioning, this was probably it.
And so he laughed, and was very merry, and he continued to seduce women, trying not to notice that he tended to close his eyes when he had them in bed, and he stopped going to church entirely, because there seemed no point now in even contemplating prayer for his soul. Besides, the parish church near Kilmartin dated to 1432, and the crumbling stones certainly couldn’t take a direct strike of lightning.
And if God ever wanted to smite a sinner, he couldn’t do better than Michael Stirling.
Michael Stirling, Sinner.
He could see it on a calling card. He’d have had it printed up, even—his was just that sort of black sense of humor—if he weren’t convinced it would kill his mother on the spot.
Rake he might be, but there was no need to torture the woman who’d borne him.
Funny how he’d never seen all those other women as a sin. He still didn’t. They’d all been willing, of course; you couldn’t seduce an unwilling woman, at least not if you took seduction at the true sense of the word and took care not to confuse it with rape. They had to actually want it, and if they didn’t—if Michael sensed even a hint of unease, he turned and walked away. His passions were never so out of control that he couldn’t manage a quick and decisive departure.
And besides, he’d never seduced a virgin, and he’d never slept with a married woman. Oh very well, one ought to remain true to oneself, even while living a lie—he’d slept with married women, plenty of them, but only the ones whose husbands were rotters, and even then, not unless she’d already produced two male offspring; three, if one of the boys seemed a little sickly.
A man had to have rules of conduct, after all.