Lady Wesley

“Is this what love feels like?" he whispered to her. "I don't like it, my Beth. It hurts too much.”
― Jennifer Ashley, The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie

“Finally, Elizabeth understood that she had been orphaned not once but twice when her mother passed away. She lost her father as surely as her mother on the day of her birth. All those years, she idealized the earl’s devotion to her mother’s memory and ignored the price she herself paid. She grew up a lonely child, envying a beloved spectral being and wishing someday for an undying, perfect love of her own in compensation.   Her next thought stunned her: she would never wish that childhood on any child of hers.”
― Miranda Davis, The Baron's Betrothal

“Your average genre novel is like a high speed car chase ending in a massive crash, with death, destruction, and balls of flame, from which the main characters (usually) emerge mostly unscathed. Everything builds up to the crash, and it’s the anticipation that keeps us turning pages.

Anthony Trollope, by contrast, is like a pleasant Sunday afternoon drive through the countryside in an open carriage behind a pair of matched horses. There’s conflict, sure; a herd of sheep blocks the road, two countrymen come to blows outside the pub, the cows in this field are looking daggers at the cows in that field. But the point of the drive is the drive itself, not the destination, because of course you’re just going to end up at home anyway.”
― willduquette

“You need to control your wife.”

“Haven’t you figured it out?” Edward said quietly. “I married her to unleash her on the world, not to keep her under wraps.”

James blinked, as if trying to understand that.

“I married her because she made me believe in her,” Edward said. “Because I wished her beyond your power, not under mine. You have no idea of the debt I owe her. For her I’d do the unthinkable.”

He glanced back at Free.

“If she asked me to do it,” he told James, “I’d even forgive you.”
― Courtney Milan, The Suffragette Scandal