He had never cared much for arguments. They were untidy things. Yet this one felt less like disorder and more like uncovering something that had been buried within them for years.
“You think you are safe because you feel nothing,” she muttered. “But you are only hiding behind your duty as if it were a wall.”
“Itisa wall,” he agreed. “A necessary one.”
“And what happens when something climbs over it?” she asked. “What then?”
“Nothing can climb over it.”
She laughed, low and incredulous. “You are very sure of yourself.”
“It is required,” he replied.
Her hands curled at her sides. “You sound like him.”
The word hit him harder than any insult. Him.Howard. The man whose shadow bruised her voice.
“No,” he bit out.
“Yes,” she insisted. “You both speak of duty and obedience and arrangements. You both talk as if women are pawns to be moved where they will do the most good for your pride.”
“My pride has nothing to do with it,” he said, his temper rising.
“Your name will mean nothing. All of this work you’re doing will be for nothing. You’ll have no legacy,” she spat.
Those words struck him hard. His expression did not shift dramatically, but his eyes shuttered, as if a door had closed behind his pupils.
He took a step toward her.
She did not retreat.
“Careful, Gwendoline,” he said softly. “You speak as if you know what fills or empties me.”
“I know only what you show me,” she replied, her voice wavering for reasons that had little to do with anger. “Which is very little.”
“And yet you stand in a lodge alone with me at midnight,” he pointed out. “A man you claim to distrust, whose views you despise.”
“I am here because I need your help,” she emphasized.
“Is that the only reason?” he probed.
Silence met the question. Her breath came quicker. Her throat worked as she swallowed.
“Answer,” he demanded.
“You know it isn’t,” she muttered.
The admission hung in the air, fragile like a thread.
He closed the distance between them very slowly, as if giving her time to flee. She did not.
The fire warmed one side of her face; his nearness warmed the other. He could feel the pull of her anger and her fear and her bewildering desire.
“You are right,” he admitted. “I use duty as a wall. You use anger as a shield. Neither of us is being honest tonight.”
“I am honest,” she whispered.
“Then be honest now.”
