“I see,” she had said darkly, “that what your mother wrote to me is true. Beneath that quiet surface is a stubborn and secretive nature!”
“My mother wrote that?” Sara asked in surprise.
“What she said amounts to the same thing! She wrote that you’re in the habit of doing whatever you wish no matter how eccentric, and that you rarely answer any questions starting with the words ‘where’ and ‘why.’”
Sara grinned at that. “A long time ago I learned not to explain things to people. It misleads them into thinking they’re entitled to know everything I do.”
— from Dreaming of You (Gamblers #2) by Lisa Kleypas
That last line! I relate so much. I rarely share details or ask for advice. I’m living the life I want to live. I recommend it.
“We don’t get many opportunities to be honorable.”
“And that bothers you.”
“I won’t bore you with complaints about being too rich or too privileged. It’s like saying, ‘They’ve given me far too much delicious cake.’”
— from Forever Your Earl (The Wicked Quills of London #1) by Eva Leigh
The Wicked Quills of London is a series featuring a group of women writers. In the first book (featured above), I seriously enjoyed the heroine’s observations on class, privilege, and gender roles. (Plus the banter with the earl was pretty great too!)
“Perhaps most women think it is easier to marry than to support themselves,” he said, deliberately provoking her.
“Easier?” she snorted. “I’ve never seen a shred of evidence that spending the rest of one’s days in domestic drudgery is any easier than working at some trade. What women need is more education, more choices, and then they will be able to consider options for themselves other than marriage.”
— from Suddenly You by Lisa Kleypas, set in 1836 London.
The countess reached for the bell pull. “I’ll order some tea for us, Miss Greenleaf.”
“You should get along famously. You’re both reformers,” said Trevor. He looked at Lucy while nodding in Lady Blackstone’s direction and said, “Abolition.” Then he did the reverse and said, “Rights for women.”
And drat the man if he didn’t then stride out without even a glance back, leaving her standing in her ill-fitting dress, facing the prospect of tea with an abolitionist countess.
— from The Likelihood of Lucy (Regency Reformers) by Jenny Holiday