Deep inside, she
knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often
even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere
between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the
wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.
He murmured her name, tenderly taking her face in his hands. "I love you," he said, his voice low and fervent. "I love you with everything I am, everything I've been, and everything I hope to be."
"I love you with my past, and I love you for my future." He bent forward and kissed her, once, softly, on the lips. "I love you for the children we'll have and for the years we'll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles, and even more, for every one of your smiles."
"Felicity," Mrs. Featherington interrupted, "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."
No one knows as well as I how much nonsense is printed in books.
She had been born for this man, and she had spent so many years trying to accept the fact that he had been born for someone else...
"You're in a rather odd mood today."
"I'm soaking wet, Eloise."
"No need to snap at me about it, I didn't force you to walk across town in the rain."
"It wasn't raining when I left,"
There was something about a sibling that brought out the eight-year-old in a body.
"I'm sure the sky was gray,"
Clearly, she had a bit of the eight-year-old in her as well.
Colin decided then and there that the female mind was a strange and incomprehensible organ - one which no man should even attempt to understand. There wasn't a woman alive who could go from point A to B without stopping at C, D, X, and 12 along the way.
He murmured her name, tenderly taking her face in his hands. "I love you," he said, his voice low and fervent. "I love you with everything I am, everything I've been, and everything I hope to be."
"I love you with my past, and I love you for my future." He bent forward and kissed her, once, softly, on the lips. "I love you for the children we'll have and for the years we'll have together. I love you for every one of my smiles, and even more, for every one of your smiles."
"Felicity," Mrs. Featherington interrupted, "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."
No one knows as well as I how much nonsense is printed in books.
She had been born for this man, and she had spent so many years trying to accept the fact that he had been born for someone else...
"You're in a rather odd mood today."
"I'm soaking wet, Eloise."
"No need to snap at me about it, I didn't force you to walk across town in the rain."
"It wasn't raining when I left,"
There was something about a sibling that brought out the eight-year-old in a body.
"I'm sure the sky was gray,"
Clearly, she had a bit of the eight-year-old in her as well.
Colin decided then and there that the female mind was a strange and incomprehensible organ - one which no man should even attempt to understand. There wasn't a woman alive who could go from point A to B without stopping at C, D, X, and 12 along the way.
No comments:
Post a Comment