“Of course.”
She hadn’t moved, but Nathaniel felt with frustration that she had retreated from him.
Desperate, for some reason, to bridge the distance he sensed, Nathaniel said, “I hope you had a tolerably pleasant evening. Despite the fact that I barged into your conversation with Earl Adair and those other dandies.”
“It was fine,” she said. “Better than I feared, in some respects. I had worried we might run afoul of that same group of lords who accosted Lucy on the Thames riverbank.”
The memory heated Nathaniel’s blood with anger.
“Unlikely,” he said. “That gang of thugs in gentlemen’s clothing. They rarely darken the doors of a polite gathering; I believe they prefer carousing at routs more likely to include opera dancers than debutantes.”
“Good, then we probably won’t encounter them again.”
“You shouldn’t. Come to me at once if you do.”
“Certainly I will, if you can be found,” she replied, tart as a lemon.
He felt his jaw tighten. “I’m sorry I wasn’t on hand to escort you into the ballroom.”
“For my part, you are welcome to dance with whomever you choose, of course,” she said quickly. Was she…jealous? Were her cheeks pink? Impossible to tell in the darkness of the carriage. “I only minded for Lucy’s sake.”
A long pause ensued. Nathaniel cast about for a way to break the silence.
“Do you think Lucy enjoyed herself?” he asked.
“She didn’t pour ratafia punch on anyone's head. I suppose we must take that as a victory.”
“She looked very lovely tonight.” He cleared his throat. “As do you.”
“Lucy is a very lovely girl. And this is such a beautiful gown, it would make any woman look and feel her best.” She swallowed; he watched the movement of her slim throat in fascination. “I didn’t thank you, before. In your study.”
Nathaniel’s chest tightened. “Do not thank me. I didn't order the gowns to put you in my debt.”
“No, I know. You were thinking only of the honor of your house. I hope I haven’t disgraced the illustrious Ashbourn name.”
“You could not,” he said hoarsely.
She muttered something under her breath that sounded like, “Don’t be too sure.” The carriage passed under a street lamp, briefly illuminating the interior in a wash of thin, golden light. He was struck anew by her loveliness.
“Lucy behaved very well, I thought,” he blundered on. “Once she made up her mind to it.”
“For a duke, you care a great deal what other people think.”
The observation surprised him. “I don’t, actually. Most people don’t think, and if they do, their thoughts aren’t worth much.”
“Then why does it matter what is seemly or the done thing and all the rest of it? Why can Lucy not simply be herself?”
“Lucy can and should be herself, but she must also recognize that in order to be part of society—any society, not just the so-called Polite Society—she must follow its rules. Or she must at least be able to give the appearance of doing so. There are rules for a reason. If everyone in the world did just as they liked, what sort of world would it be?”
“A free one?” She shrugged, lifting Lucy’s head slightly and doing interesting things to the expanse of creamy flesh above the bodice of her gown. “We supposedly live in a free society here in England, yet there seem to be many rules to follow and strictures to observe. For women, especially.”
“You’re right.” Nathaniel could see he’d startled her by agreeing. “Freedom is relative, unfortunately. People experience it differently; for women of our class who wish to move in the highest circles, there is more freedom to be had by trading some absolutely authentic personal expression, shall we say, for the mask of propriety. It may seem paradoxical, but wearing a mask can be very freeing.”
He certainly found it so, at The Nemesis. But those thoughts had no place here, with her.
“Hm. Seems to me there’s nothing freer than taking off all masks and just being who you are with no artifice or pretense about it, but I’m no philosopher. I know you’re correct about Society having rules that must be obeyed. It’s different here than at home. I was lucky to be brought up in a community that values people more than propriety.”
He couldn’t imagine such a mythical place. “That sounds nice. Is that where you lived with your late husband? What was his occupation?”
