One of the servants had reported that Daisy had been sneaking around the house at night, deliberately tripping all the traps to keep the mice from being killed. “Is this true, daughter?” Thomas Bowman had rumbled, his gaze filled with ire as he stared at Daisy. “It could be,” she had allowed. “But there is another explanation.” “And what is that?” Bowman had asked sourly. Her tone turned congratulatory. “I think we are hosting the most intelligent mice in New York!

One should make the best choice possible given the circumstances, and then avoid second-guessing for the sake of one's own sanity.

Weddings are never about the bride and groom, weddings are public platforms for dysfunctional families.

I have always hated flying. The idea of it is an affront to nature. People are meant to stay on the ground.

If my love can hold you, I'll keep you with me.

I think you'll have to marry me, Miss Fielding." "To save your reputation?" Derek grinned, bending to kiss the flash of pale throat revealed by the robe. "Someone has to make a respectable man of me.

Make your choice and accept the consequences.