He sighed. “Meters again?”
“I’d settle forlogic. What are we meant to do with three different pipes of wine, two hogsheads, wine gallons that match the weight of a corn gallon filled with wheat… And let’s not even touch the twenty-seven styles of bushel. Your lot needs to come up with a system that works, and thenenforceit.”
“You’re right,” he said. “That’smylot. Not the business of a proper young lady with a reputation to keep up.”
“I’ve an unblemished reputation,” she assured him. “Miscreants shake in their boots and the rest toast my arrival. I know every vendor in London. Where to buy, where not to buy, who to trust, and who would swindle his own mother. They love me or they fear me.”
“That isnota good reputation,” he informed her. “That is the sort of thing that will prevent you from finding—”
She slammed her fists to her hips. “If you say ‘a husband,’ I shall be forced to violence, so help me God.”
He couldn’t believe she was fighting him on this. A good marriage wasn’t just the best way for a young lady to ensure her future. It was often theonlyway. And he was trying to help!
He stepped closer. “A good match—"
“Bah. When will it occur to you that not all women have no ambitions beyond serving a husband? Before you say ‘what else would you do?’ please recall that one out of every four women never marries. Are some spinsters overset with sadness at such a gothic fate? Surely. Do other independent women awaken every morning thanking the heavens for another day’s freedom?”
“You are not an independent woman,” he reminded her. “You are the ward of—”
“I’m five-and-twenty,” she said firmly. “Thad is a kind and generous cousin, but he no longer holds legal guardianship. If I had enough wealth, I could rent my own apartment and—”
“If,” he repeated. “In the absence of independent means, Thaddeus Middleton is your practical guardian, regardless of legal obligation. A woman in your position can either find a man to marry, or pursue genteel employment as a governess or companion. What she cannotdo is—”
“—become an agent of change when she encounters inequity or criminal activity?” she interrupted, eyes flashing. “Have a positive impact on the world around her, at a level outside the home? Be seen and heard andmatter?”
“Do you think mothers don’t matter?” he countered. “That wives don’t matter?”
“Having enough bread to eat matters, yet you haven’t rushed off to become a baker or a grain harvester.” She lifted her chin. “You’re most useful in the House of Lords, and I’m most useful as a covert agent out on the streets avenging misapplied mathematics.”
“As a covert… that is not a thing that exists!” he spluttered.
“I’m the first one,” she said with a shrug. “When I see unfairness, I do my best to fix it. Sometimes the problem lies with undereducated buyers and sometimes an unethical shopkeeper is at fault. One cannot know until firsthand inquiries are made. But if I find a discrepancy… I settle the score.”
“It’s not the same.” He crossed his arms. “Parliament governs with honesty and transparency. Members of the public can view important proceedings from the galleries—”
“Male members of the public,” she murmured.
“On the authority of no one at all, you wrap yourself in lies and disguises—”
“It’s the only way I can accomplish anything at all.” She took a deep breath. “You are privileged to beableto be yourself, to force people to notice you, to be allowed to take part. The public may judge your opinions, but you will never be expelled or condemned for possessing one.”
He stared at the impossible woman in consternation.
Many of her points were true. Although she went about her business in ways completely antithetical to his own mores and values, he could not deny that she wanted the same things he did. Fairness. Justice. Equality. A better life for all.
It was easy for him to champion such causes however he pleased, yet all but impossible for her.
“I don’t mind disguising myself for investigative missions,” she said softly, “although I wish I did not have to don an equally false evening costume in order to be deemed acceptable by society.”
He stepped forward.
“I don’t expect to change your mind,” she said quickly. “My actions will never be seen as those of a ‘proper’ young lady, nor will my name ever be spoken in Parliament. But I don’t need that. What good is a pristine reputation, if I’m the only person it helps?”
“What good is throwing your reputation away if it stops you from helping anyone, including yourself?” he countered. “What do you think will happen if your ruse is discovered?”
“No more soirées,” she said with mock relief, “but between now and then—”
“Discovered by ashopkeeper,” Cole pressed. “Your name in scandal columns will be the least of your problems. You’re not an actress on a stage. These are real people. Each time, you endanger yourself physically, legally, and—”
