Felicity," Mrs. Featherington interurupted, "why don't you tell Mr. Brdgerton about your watercolors?" For the life of him, Colin couldn't imagine a less interesting topic (except maybe for Phillipa's watercolors), but he nonetheless turned to the youngest Featherington with a friendly smile and asked, "And how are your watercolors?" But Felicity, bless her heart, gave him a rather friendly smile herself and said nothing but, "I imagine they're fine, thank you.

Michael nodded tersely, eyeing a table across the room. It was empty. So empty. So joyfully, blessedly empty. He could picture himself a very happy man at that table. "Not feeling very conversational this evening, are we?" Colin asked, breaking into his (admittedly tame) fantasies.

It’s a curse, really,” Lady Danbury said. “I’m the only person I know my age who has perfect hearing.” “Most would call that a blessing.” She snorted. “Not with that musicale looming over the horizon.

Until you've lived through all that," he said, "don't you ever complain about what we have. Because to me... to me..." He choked on the words, but he barely paused before he continued. "This - us - is heaven. I can't bear to hear you say otherwise.

It's the curse of motherhood. You're required to love us even when we vex you.

Everyone has secrets. Especially me.

This is why I didn't get married last year," she said to him. "I wouldn't be here to nurse you." She thought about that for a moment. "Of course, one could make the argument that you wouldn't be in this situation if not for me. But we're not going to dwell upon that.