In honor of Julia Quinn: The Bridgerton Ode

Posted by on Apr 2, 2013 in Blog | 4 comments

Out today: A new Bridger­ton epi­logue by Julia Quinn (The Bridger­tons: Hap­pily Ever After), and in obser­vance, I’m shar­ing a poem I wrote about the series. Yeah, that’s right. Seri­ous fan­girl stuff, writ­ing a poem. When He Was Wicked was one of the first romances-from-the-actual-romance-section that I read. I didn’t know many authors in the genre then, and often chose ran­domly, not even read­ing the back cover blurb. I do remem­ber read­ing the ded­i­ca­tion in WHWW (some­thing like, “For Paul, even though he thought it should be called Love in the Time of Malaria.”)–it made me laugh, it made me buy the book.

Sev­eral peo­ple have told me When He Was Wicked  is their least favorite of the series, but I loved it. It both charmed and moved me, and the snip­pets of let­ters at the begin­ning of each chap­ter were a nov­elty that worked for me. Start­ing in the mid­dle of the series, I was intrigued by the struc­ture of the con­cur­rent story lines and wanted to know more.  I rarely “glom” an author,  but I did with all the pre­vi­ous Bridger­ton books, plus Quinn’s early novels.

That, plus the alpha­bet­i­cal nomen­cla­ture of the Bridger­ton clan, plus a famil­iar­ity with Edward Gorey’s Gash­ly­crumb Tinies are all respon­si­ble for the following:


The Viscount Who Loved MeA is for Anthony, chief of the Bridger­ton clan,

reputed a rake, but really, a most pru­dent and ratio­nal man—

unless he’s behind in cro­quet, and then he turns mad—

Or maybe that’s Kate’s fault; she makes him feel a green lad,

out of his ele­ment and off from his norm.

Never mind: together, they weather the storm.


An Offer from a GentlemanB is for Bene­dict, the artist, and Sophie’s Prince Charming,

though the offer he makes she finds quite alarming.

His mis­tress? He doesn’t get it just isn’t enough,

not until he unmasks her Blind Man’s Bluff.

No pump­kins nor palaces needed for this fairy tale,

just My Cot­tage in the coun­try (and a brief stint in jail).


Romancing Mister Bridgerton

C is for Colin, green-eyed writer and rover,

Penelope’s first crush she never got over.

Some­one should have warned him—blown a whis­tle, perhaps—

that he’d fall for the quiet girl missed by other chaps.

The pudgy girl next door, in the citrus-colored gown?

The one he swore not to marry? Quite a scoop for Whistledown!


The Duke and ID is for Daphne, who is quick to discover

even a sham courtship’s tough with a lurk­ing big brother.

A self-controlled Duke it might drive to the edge,

or off to the duel­ing field after a tryst in the hedge.

Let the men stam­mer and pos­ture and bait,

then send in the Bridger­ton girl to set them all straight.


To Sir Phillip, With LoveE is for Eloise, and it’s words she lives by,

either writ­ten or spo­ken, which (let’s face it) can be rough on a guy.

Plants are so quiet—maybe that’s why Phillip loves botany—

but when the time comes to say “I love you”—well, oughtn’t he?

Hid­ing out in the green­house won’t make it all better;

the girl and her broth­ers will make sure you court to the letter.


When He Was WickedF’s for Francesca, who keeps her wicked side hidden

from all except Michael, who thinks her forbidden.

Just back from India, the rake’s not feel­ing that merry:

Malaria’s bad, but then there’s this other fever to carry.

Frannie’s sus­cep­ti­ble, too, far more than she thought,

but who can resist a man who keeps your tea water hot?


On the Way to the WeddingG is for Gre­gory, who believes this of true love:

If it doesn’t take at first sight, you should give it a shove.

Lucy is mys­ti­fied: Must love befud­dle, bemuse?

Why can’t it be orderly, like a neat line of shoes?

But love demands risk, often again and again;

it gives aim to the aim­less, sum­mons the rebel within.


It's In His KissH is for Hyacinth, who’s prone to be blunt,

ever tak­ing the lead, in waltz or trea­sure hunt.

You just have to love her—that, or strangulation;

Gareth chooses the for­mer and is soon lost in translation.

If love’s like a musi­cale, no sur­prise some notes go amiss,

but hope of fam­ily and com­fort is what’s in her kiss.


And Q—that’s for Quinn, if a few let­ters we skip

to honor our author, the Queen of the Quip,

and say thanks—

for sib­lings quib­bling (you do it the best)—

for hero­ines quirky—

for heroes a-quest—

for quite the quin­tes­sence of romance—

each quiver and thrill,

and to risk sound­ing querulous…

Ms. Quinn, please—

back to your quill.


Okay, it’s no tat­tooed quote, but it is some form of devo­tion! Gregory’s stanza is my favorite, I think. Come to Face­book if you want to find out what hap­pened when I sent the poem to Julia Quinn. And I might just put it up on Pin­ter­est, too, but give me a cou­ple of days. Thanks for reading!



  1. I just want you to know that I LOOOOVVVEEEE Your poem!! The Bridger­ton Series is my absolute favorite of all time, I have read the whole series more than 8 times. This poem is so sweet and true, I love it! I liked your page on FB, hop­ing to read some of your work soon. :)


    • Thank you, Savan­nah! I love to hear that, of course. I don’t know what it is about those Bridger­tons, but I love ‘em. I remem­ber after read­ing the first one, I imme­di­ately drove thirty min­utes to go get another one. :)

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