“Wait, why a sailor?” She asked.
Talbot seemed shy all of a sudden.
“Your friend’s brother, whose letters you so faithfully read. The one you wanted to flee to, all the way to America, which was a very quixotic idea on your part. You probably consider him the epitome of manliness.”
“I don’t know what quixotic means, but yes, sailorsaresupposed to be very manly. They are also said to be very loud and rude.”
“Quixotic is something unrealistic, impractical, idealistic, such as your dreams of America,” Talbot explained without any hesitation. “And the brother?”
“I haven’t seen Thomas in ten years. I don’t know him from Adam at this point. And he wasn’t why I wanted to go to America.”
Talbot’s eyes were amused as she elaborated, and she grew aware of every shoulder and head movement she made when she spoke. She didn’t like it.
“Whydidyou want to go to America?” he asked.
“I wanted a new beginning,” she admitted. “I wanted to be able to change my circumstances through hard work, I wanted…more.”
“It sounds like a nightmare,” he said lightly, and her chest shook with silent laughter.
“To you, it most likely does,” she conceded. “You and I, we’re the exact opposites. Your lineage and name are sources of pride for you. Youlikewhat they represent.”
Talbot said nothing for a while.
“What would I be the epitome of?” he asked, as aloof as ever, but his eyes betrayed that he was genuinely curious about her answer.
Elizabeth mentally went over all the things she knew about him.
“You’re the epitome of theTon,” she finally said, and he didn’t seem as happy as she’d thought he would be.
What would I be the epitome of?She wondered, but decided to stay away from that topic.
“Why don’t we talk aboutyourbanns being read?” She said instead.
Talbot gave her a cool glance, feigning ignorance.
“The Opera, flowers, dances – you and Miss Grey are almost leg-shackled,” she exclaimed excitedly.
“Yourcharmingway of expressing yourself becomes more pronounced as one’s conversation with you progresses,” he said mockingly.
Elizabeth wanted to pinch his waist for being mean. So she did. Just a little, as much as her gloves allowed. He burst out laughing, incredulous. Heads were turning towards them, and Elizabeth’s annoyance quickly drained from her body.
He whispered, wide-eyed, “Did you just pinch me?”
“Your Grace,” it was Elizabeth’s turn to feign ignorance, “whatever do you mean?”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“To decipher your socleverlyposed question,” he said pointedly. “You’re wondering about my feelings for Lady Helena?”
“No,” it was Lizzie’s turn to look at him arrogantly, “I’m not wondering about yourfeelings, I’m wondering about your potential matrimony.”
“Isn’t that the same thing in the female vocabulary?” he asked, then cleared his throat and, in a theatrical voice, recited, “Man’s love is of man’s life a thing apart, ’Tis woman’s whole existence.In her first passion, a woman loves her lover; in all the others, all she loves is love.”
“I can only speak for myself: no. Where are those verses from?”
“They are from a poem I’ve recently been reading. By Lord Byron. So, you don’t care for love?” Talbot asked.
“No, I don’t care for it.”
