“He won’t go anywhere,” he assured her. “The more you try to tame a wild animal, the more it wants to run. If you show it that it can leave whenever it wants, it will find comfort in that. He will not desert us now.”
Bridget was not sure, but she held back a moment, ready to run after the cat if needed. Mr. Peaches stretched his back and shook his tail. He rubbed against the Duke, circling him and then coming back around to Bridget. He bumped his head against her arm, and she rubbed his head and back.
The cat walked onto the grass behind the wall and sniffed it before turning back around and returning to the wall. It sat between them and remained there, as if taking on the role of chaperone. Mr. Peaches stared out at the sea as if planning a grand adventure as soon as he could find a boat.
Bridget could not help but be impressed with how the Duke handled the cat.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“You shall have to find out,” the Duke replied.
CHAPTER18
Rebellious Nature
The Duke found he enjoyed himself far more than he had expected. He had thought his horse rides and cold water swims would be the highlights of his stay on the estate or gently teasing Bridget, but sitting in the night with her, having a pleasant conversation, was much more enjoyable than any of those things.
There was still a hint of danger in the situation, which only added to its appeal.
“There is one thing I would like to find out,” Bridget told him.
“And what is that?”
“You mentioned a few days ago that you might like to discuss Swift or Defoe with me. I wish to know if that is still the case, or if you were only teasing me again to make me think you could go toe-to-toe with me.”
Nicholas smiled. He looked at Bridget, taking in her profile. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall, and the moon had come out enough to bring out the green in her eyes like the depths of the ocean. Her cheeks were still rosy, as if they had been painted on. She was a beautiful woman.
“Do you have nothing to say?” she asked. “I knew you were only trying to use your charm on me.”
The Duke smiled again—he relished a challenge.
“Not at all,” he said. “I was merely weighing what I wanted to say before I responded. I have read many of Jonathan Swift’s books and did not know which one to comment on. He writes with such wit and humor while still poking fun satirically at society, don’t you think?”
Bridget tried to hide her surprise and continued to look straight ahead at the sea. She took her time before speaking.
“I agree with all of that, and so would most people. Did you hear that from someone else, or is that your opinion of him?” she asked.
The Duke smiled some more and placed his hand on his heart. “Do you suggest I am fabricating my response? I have never been so offended in my life. Well, perhaps Ihavebeen far more offended on multiple occasions. I will tell you the truth. I have read his books, and that is my opinion. I am fond of many of his works, but Gulliver’s Travels has always remained my favorite. On the one hand, it is a splendid work of fiction that delights children, and on the other, it is a wonderful satire from which we can all learn. Swift comments on the follies and vices of humanity, and I know enough about them to appreciate his penmanship.”
“I will admit that you have surprised me again,” Bridget said. “First with Mr. Peaches, and now with Mr. Swift. I apologize if I caused any offense, but you are not what I expected. I was unsure if you have read Swift or Defoe, but I am heartened that you have. You are quite accurate about his scathing social commentaries. He speaks about injustice, and my heart and mind are drawn to those ideas. I believe someday, there will be an end to this injustice, but that day is quite far away.”
“If you and I can discuss such things while we’re sitting on a wall in the middle of the night, then perhaps that day is not that far away,” the Duke suggested.
Bridget turned to look at him, and he gazed into her emerald-green eyes. They sparkled. He could not see in the darkness if she blushed some more, but she quickly looked away, perhaps embarrassed by the situation.
“How about Mary Astell?” Bridget asked. “You also mentioned you have read her works, and she is much more obscure to the populace, especially the male population. What do you make of her arguments?”
“No, I don’t think it is fair that you get to question me and I do not get to question you,” the Duke countered. “You know a little more about me now, and I wish to know a little more about you.”
Bridget pressed her lips together and folded her arms, but her smile shone through. If the Duke did not know any better, he might think she was enjoying his company in the middle of the night. He knew he was enjoying hers.
“What do you wish to know?” Bridget asked.
“I wish to know more about why you are so rebellious,” the Duke told her. “Is it because of Mary Astell? I know she is a fierce advocate for women’s rights.”
“Alright, you have made your point,” Bridget conceded. “You know your literature, and I shall not doubt or underestimate you again. Yes, Mary Astell shaped some of my views on the matter, but you can’t rely on only one viewpoint. I have always believed that women should have the same opportunities as men, and in time, it will happen. Those views have been bolstered by various authors and philosophers.”
“Surprise me,” the Duke said. “I can assume some things about you based on what you have said so far about equality for women, but what might I not expect?”
