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February 7 - February 8, 2024
She missed him so much she could feel it in her bones, a longing like hunger through every part of her. She missed the way his arms felt around her, the way he smelled, the way the scruff on his cheeks brushed her skin when he kissed her forehead and she just wanted to pull him close, close, closer forever.
“That’s the thing about this sort of thing: a sharp bit of hurt now to save a lot of hurt adding up over time.”
“It’s hard for me to muster up my sympathy for the people with more money and more land than they know what to do with,”
“Every woman marries into obsolescence,” Eliza said. “The things that make us celebrated as young women—being charming, and being coquettish and being clever? In a married woman and mother, all of that becomes desperate and embarrassing, like wearing too much rouge. Even our educations serve no purpose after we’re wed. Charlotte and I were tutored in languages and music for the sake of becoming accomplished enough to attract husbands. We’ll marry, and become matrons, and then we will raise our sons to make decisions on our behalf.”
It was a rare gift, Hazel thought, to be surrounded by intelligent people who actually cared what you had to say.
A muse was celebrated, sure, praised and feted, but she existed entirely at the mercy of her artist, who was placing her high on a pedestal so small it didn’t allow her to move more than a step in either direction lest she fall.
Affection was poisoning her, taking over her brain and her thoughts like a growing weed.
Hope was a dangerous thing. Most of the pain in the world, Jack had learned, was because of hope.
can survive a hanging and a stabbing and shipwreck and starvation,” he said. “And I still wouldn’t ever dare to do anything as foolish as standing up Hazel Sinnett.”
“But turns out true stupidity is believing you’re secretly brilliant.”
“I can’t be with you now, Hazel,” Jack said. “Because I can’t bear to say goodbye to you.”
There are always women behind the scenes, pulling the strings, Hazel. We are invisible to history, but we also survive.”
“You are the only life I want, Jack.”
I would give up anything for a life I was allowed to build anew with you. In a heartbeat.”
“Will you still love me even if all of England despises me?” Hazel said. “We’re Scots, Hazel,” Jack said, a smile extending across his face. “If England hates you, we can hate them right back.”
“Let me make this promise to you, Hazel Sinnett,” he said, kissing her neck. “Let me tell the world that I am yours and you are mine. Until death do us part.”
“My heart is yours,” he said. “Beating or still.”
