Makay

“I was jostled, and I pushed back harder, desperate to escape the tumult, when a hand snatched at mine. It was Philip’s, and looking over my shoulder I saw his lips move—he said something—but I couldn’t hear what. Everything was too loud and too whirling and too hot. I tripped over dancing feet, and then an arm was around my waist, and Philip pulled me out of the dance, where his mother waited with a worried expression. I sat in a chair by a window. Philip leaned over me, looking very worried, and Lady Caroline was there, too, fanning me and asking what had happened.”
― Julianne Donaldson, Edenbrooke

“Did he hurt you?” The emotion I was trying to suppress clawed at my throat, unleashed by the gentleness in Philip’s voice. Without warning, a tear slipped down my cheek. I swiped it away.”
― Julianne Donaldson, Edenbrooke

“He looked heavenward with a sigh. “Are you always this stubborn?” I thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I think I am.” Philip’s expression wavered between exasperation and amusement. Amusement won with a reluctant laugh.”
― Julianne Donaldson, Edenbrooke

“It was difficult to not compare the two men as they stood together. Mr. Beaufort was certainly dashing, with his stylish golden hair and the flair of his dress. But seeing him next to Philip, his appeal faded greatly in my mind. For it was obvious, comparing them side by side, that Mr. Beaufort was like a set of paste jewels—flashy on the outside but really an imposter, with nothing of great value within. Philip, on the other hand, shone like a real gem—without even trying. His clothes were just as well-made as Mr. Beaufort’s, but he wore them with a natural, athletic grace, and he didn’t employ any extreme fashions to create an impression. He was purely elegant, naturally, without thought or planning, and upon looking at them, I found that I would infinitely prefer the real gem to the imposter.”
― Julianne Donaldson, Edenbrooke