Best 12 quotes of Megan Frampton on MyQuotes

Ask the questions you want to. Not the ones you think you should.

All of a sudden, she felt frozen. More chilled than before, as though she had been thrust into an ice house and left on her own. She concentrated on taking a deep breath, but it felt as though she could only draw quick, hurried breaths. "Isabella, today I will take my tea differently than usual," Nicholas spoke in an entirely casual tone, but she knew he had somehow realized what was going through her mind and was taking pity on her. "Yes?" she asked, poised to pour out the tea. His mouth quirked up in a smile, so quick she would have missed it if she hadn't been staring at his mouth. A habit she did not wish to break. "Yes, I would like milk and just one teaspoon of sugar." He leaned toward her and kissed her, gently, on the cheek. "You are sweet enough for me," he said, in a tone that was audible to everyone, yet still managed to sound intimate.

And so I would ask you if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife?" As he spoke, she saw him glance over her shoulder, looking at the clock that stood in the corner. As though he had another appointment after this one. The one where he decided her fate. Unless she decided it for herself. The emotion she'd felt on recognizing Lord Alexander in that ballroom rushed over her, the unfamiliar feelings of want and dissatisfaction and wishing she could just be herself, just do something that wasn't related to who she was- she wanted to stand up and demand that Lord Carson, that anyone see her as Eleanor, the pun-loving, adventurous woman who adored Italian. Not a female to be bartered from one family to another.

But we were just getting acquainted," he said, his tone faintly amused. "Yours is not an acquaintance I wish to pursue," Eleanor replied. She felt uncomfortable with how cold she sounded. At least until he laughed. Then she just felt embarrassed. "Unfortunate. It seems we share a passion"- and he paused, letting the impact of the word roll through her- "for Greek mythology.

Choice, what people really want, is the most important thing. Choosing the life you want, making your own choices-that is what defines you as human.

Do you like flowers, Lady Eleanor?" It was him speaking. Lord Blunt. Asking her opinion on something, of all things. It was unexpected. And everyone was waiting for her answer. Or so it seemed. "I do, thank you." Why did his simple question make her want to shout, or scream, or say something in Italian? A language that she'd learned that seemed to hold all the emotion she wasn't allowed to have. So she loved it all the more. "They are... bellissimi fiori," she said, feeling daring as she spoke. "Speak so that everyone can understand, Eleanor," her mother said reprovingly. "Of course, Mother," Eleanor replied, lowering her eyes so nobody would see the spark of defiance she knew was there.

Eleanor's sisters all murmured their assent, making her heart swell with love. She was so lucky to have these people in her life, people who could be annoying (Olivia), pedantic (Ida), and quiet (Pearl), but who ultimately loved her and wanted her to be happy, no matter how it might affect them.

I am not certain that Lord Carson and I will suit one another." Mostly because she knew she was falling in love with his brother. But that she wouldn't share. She couldn't believe she was speaking so boldly to her mother. To anyone, honestly. Neither, at least according to their expressions, could her mother and Olivia. "What do you mean?" For once, her mother was actually asking her a question that didn't presuppose the answer. "I mean," Eleanor said slowly, feeling how her chest was tightening at even the thought of saying something so undebutante-like, "that I do not wish to go driving with Lord Carson this afternoon. I mean that I would like to be unhampered by an engagement for just a bit more. That how you all are bearing down on me makes it feel as though I am a thing to be manipulated, not a person who could live her own life." Her mother's mouth dropped open, while Olivia looked as though she didn't know whether to cheer or to slap her sister. "Live your own life?" her mother said, her voice rising into a screech. Eleanor winced at the sound. "Your sister made it impossible for any of the rest of you to live your own lives, unless you plan on living your lives in penury and disgrace." "It isn't that horrible," Olivia pointed out in a reasonable tone. "The worst that could happen is that we settle for gentlemen we actually like rather than gentlemen you and Father decide on for us." Now Eleanor wished she could cheer for her sister.

I will be making my own choices in life. I know you say you want the best for us, but the best isn't whether or not we are able to afford clothing that suits our position. The best is when you find someone you love, who loves you back, and you decide you want to spend your lives together.

Now that you are a respectable married woman, I expect you to have no fewer than two glasses with dinner. And maybe- if you are feeling daring- a glass of sherry after." She shook her head, as though it were an automatic response, then paused and met his eyes, her gaze direct and intense. "I think I should do just that, husband. And other things that were not allowed when I was a young unmarried lady." Only just as she said that, she must have realized what it sounded like, and her whole face turned a bright shade of pink, and her eyes widened. She looked adorable, and he absolutely, positively could not laugh at her.

That would be awkwarder--for her, at least--than expiring in his bedroom. And yes, she knew that wasn't a word. She reached his door without either fainting or falling, and counted it as a victory already. And then she raised her hand to knock, but the door whooshed open, and she was pulled inside. "I was hoping," he began, before lowering his mouth onto hers.

What would you do if you were a goddess, Cotswold?" Her maid, who had been pulling Eleanor's covers up the bed, stilled her motion. Her expression drew together, as though she were considering it. "I suppose I would find the most handsome man in the world and make him my... my..." She waved her hand to indicate the word she shouldn't be saying. "Cotswold!" Eleanor exclaimed, delightedly. "That sounds scandalous!" "Wouldn't it be what you did?" Eleanor shrugged. "I was thinking more along the lines of being able to have and read all the books I wanted to." Cotswold returned to her task. "Choosing a book over a handsome man." She shook her head, mock ruefully. "And here you were wanting to do something scandalous." The honest part was, it would be scandalous. If it were possible to not be a duke's daughter and be someone else, she would choose to work in a bookshop. Not one that sold the material it seemed Lord Alexander wanted to purchase; one with fairy tales and mythological books and any kind of literature where it was just as likely a dragon would drag you off somewhere as a viscount. "I just might," Eleanor said in a defiant tone, making her maid snort.