She thought of the letter to Frances, burning a hole in her pocket as she waited to dispatch it. She had finally stilled her thoughts long enough to write it.
I have spent these last eight years as a dutiful daughter to a dutiful earl. What I have learned – what the brave men who lead your United States already know – is that the aristocrat’s duty is not to the welfare of his people, but rather to the welfare of his own reputation and coffers. My dear Frances, how can I allow myself to continue this terrible legacy?
It wasn’t a lie. It truly was what had pounded through her head ever since her walk in the fields with Martin.
But it wasn’t quite the truth either.
The party broke up informally after supper. Mama cried off from the drawing room on excuse of a headache. Louisa declared she had no use for card games and pulled out her sketchpad in a corner of the room, while Charlotte dreamily stared out the window. Lolly had resigned herself to picking up a book when Martin responded to Papa’s invitation for a smoke with, “You’ll excuse me, Lord Turner. I would have a moment of Lady Rosalind’s time, if you will permit it.”
“Of course. She is your problem now, after all,” Papa chuckled. One hand on Lolly’s back, he pushed her towards Martin.
She smoothed on a simpering smile. “Anything you wish, my lord.”
They went out into the garden again, although this time Martin did not lead her out the back gate. Papa closed the door behind them against the brisk night air. “I leave her in your hands, Preston.”
It was disgusting, really, how happy Papa was to foist her onto this man. She knew he believed them to be in love, but that was only because he refused to listen to the truth of what happened on that London balcony.
In any case, she decided going on the offensive was her best choice. Withdrawing the letter from her pocket, she held it out to Martin. “Would you please post this for me, when you get a chance?”
Taking it, he looked at both sides of the envelope suspiciously. “What is this?”
“A letter to my friend in Boston to arrange my arrival.”
They marched along the path in silence for a few moments.
“I must apologize for my behavior earlier today.” Martin’s voice was quieter than usual. Lolly almost felt the night breeze would steal his words away. “I have no excuse, but I beg your forgiveness.”
She had an instant reaction, and it was anger. She breathed in, repeating his words in her mind, to dampen it. Although really, his apology was as bare as her father’s bald spot. On her exhale, she molded her voice into that of a lighthearted lady. “For which behavior are you apologizing, precisely? The kiss, or tossing me across the room at first sign of interruption?”
“I don’t know that I tossed you –”
“My neck still aches from the impact.”
Martin tipped his head towards the stars. He really was too handsome. One could get wrapped up in the perfect resonance of his features and miss the fact that he was a flawed man.
Lolly looked away.
“I apologize for both. Kissing and tossing. I should have done neither. I am ashamed of myself.”
“Of yourself? I find that hard to believe. Your behavior made it clear you were ashamed of one person in that room, and it was the female who dared kiss her fiancé.” The words flew out her mouth before she could consider them. Or stop them. “And, if I may be honest, it is precisely that type of attitude that makes me eager to leave Society. I’m sure that wasn’t your first kiss. I’m sure you have even done the marital act before, despite being unmarried your whole life. And yet it isIwhom you blame.”
She glared at the row of lettuce rather than watch for Martin’s reaction. She didn’t want to see indignation or outrage or shock. She didn’t expect much of a response, truthfully, except one that would set her in her place. One that would make it easy to sail to Boston.
“You speak honestly, and so now let me. I do not blame you, and I am sorry that I made you feel that I do.” Pausing, Martin bent, pulled up a weed from the garden bed, and then resumed walking. “However, I am not sure I follow your logic. Biology dictates that a woman who engages in…the marital act, as you call it…is at risk of growing with child, while a man runs no such risk. Therefore, the woman must guard her chastity much more closely.”
Lolly nearly laughed at his absurdity. “Biology dictates that the man is at risk of impregnating a woman. Should that not come with the same caution that the woman is supposed to exercise?”
“It’s not that simple. There are different types of women.”
“Oh, just as there are different types of men? Those who toil in the fields and those who rule them?”
“In a way.”
Her arms crossed her chest, as if her subconscious knew she needed a shield. “Yet you would do away with those divisions between men.”
“I have no objection to the divisions. Those of us born into nobility are better disposed to leadership, and those born into farming are better disposed to farming. What I would do away with is the unequal balance of power and wealth.”
“Fine, then. I would do away with the unequal balance of responsibility between the man and woman – no matter her class. If you have the right to plunder women outside of marriage, then I should, at the very least, have the right to kiss my fiancé before our wedding day.”
