To Sir Phillip, With Love (Bridgertons, #5)

by Julia Quinn

Men. The day they learned to admit to a mistake was the day they became women.

Her mother had once told her that she could catch more flies with honey than a sledgehammer, but Eloise never could learn to keep her thoughts to herself.

“My children never disappoint me,” she said softly. “They merely . . . astonish me. I believe I like it that way.”

This sense of comfort, of easy companionship, of sitting next to someone in a carriage and knowing with every fiber of your being that it was where you belonged.

All words were lost as they moved. They weren’t graceful, and they didn’t move as one. Their bodies weren’t in tune, and the sounds they made were not musical or lovely.