I'm Not A Gentle Pony... I Promise

You Should Be Thankful That Dark Colors Suit You. Not Everyone Wears Black Well." "why, Lady Olivia, Is That A Compliment?" "not So Much As A Compliment To You As An Insult To Everyone Else," She Assured Him. "thanks Heaven For That. I Don't Think I Would Know How To Conduct Myself In A World In Which You Offered Compliments.

Any Man, You'll Soon Learn, Has An Insurmountable Need To Blame Someone Else When He Is Made To Look A Fool.

I Cannot Feel Like A Duchess In My Mother’s Sitting Room.” “what Do You Feel Like, Then?” “hmmm.” She Took A Sip Of Her Tea. “just Daphne Bridgerton, I Suppose. It’s Difficult To Shed The Surname In This Clan. In Spirit, That Is.” “i Hope That Is A Compliment,” Lady Bridgerton Remarked. Daphne Just Smiled At Her Mother. “i Shall Never Escape You, I’m Afraid.” She Turned To Gareth. “there Is Nothing Like One’s Family To Make One Feel Like One Has Never Grown Up.

It Was Juvenile, He Knew, This Need To Assign Blame, But Everyone Had A Right To Childish Emotions From Time To Time, Didn't They?

She Hated That She Was Still So Desperate For A Glimpse Of Him, But It Had Been This Way For Years.