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

by Julia Quinn

In his opinion, necessity had never been the mother of invention. Accidents. It was all about accidents. No scientist would admit to it, of course, but most great invention occurred while one was attempting to solve some other problem entirely.

Love can rather creep up on a person, you know.”

“You happen to life, Eloise,” Anthony said. “You’ve always made your own decisions, always been in control. It might not always feel that way, but it’s true.”

There was nothing subtle or deniable about Eloise Bridgerton. She would never skirt around an issue when she could just walk right in and stick her nose directly into the heart of the matter.

. . and as I’m sure you can imagine, they were all possessed of a most foul temper. Is it my fault I am so superior? I think not. No more, I suppose, than it is their fault they were born men and thus without the barest hint of common sense or innate good manners.

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

“I always loved everything about you, of course, but for some reason I always found your impatience especially charming. It was never because you wanted more, it was because you wanted everything.”

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.