“Do let me explain,” Jem said. “Where we come from, being an actor is a reputable profession. Consider your own Shakespeare.”
“Well, yes,” Lady Ellen said. “Though I do believe even Shakespeare might not be acceptable to the Ton.”
“Some of the hypocrisy of this time,” Reese said. When a hurt look crossed Lady Ellen’s face, Reese mumbled, “Sorry. I have a tendency to be rather plainspoken.”
Jem snorted, and Reese shot him a quick scowl, but he could tell she wasn’t angry.
“Mr. Taylor, are you mocking your cousin?” Ellen asked, her expression disapproving.
“It was not my intent to mock, but Miss Clarisse has a reputation for being a tiger when she fights for a cause,” he said. “Calling herself plainspoken is an understatement.”
“Atiger.” Lady Ellen’s expression turned dreamy. “I would love for someone to describe me as fighting like a tiger. It seems so forceful and exotic.”
“That’s kind of you,” Reese said. “Unfortunately, in some places, like a fine dinner party,” she glanced around at the other guests, “many people would not consider itquite the thing. Another reason I look forward to going home.”
“Oh, are you returning to America soon?” Lady Ellen looked disappointed. “It is such a long trip, and—” She broke off and dropped her gaze, blushing.
“And I haven’t found a husband yet?” Reese asked, her tone dry. “Don’t worry about offending me by mentioning my single state. Where we come from, women don’t marry as young as they do here.”
“Where in America do you live?” Lady Ellen looked up.
“Ohio,” Jem said.
“We attended the university there,” Reese added.
Ellen’s eyes went wide. “Youattended university?”
“Yes, America is quite progressive,” Reese said without hesitation.
Jem choked on his drink and had to put his napkin up to his mouth.
“Sorry,” he said when he could get his breath. “I swallowed wrong.” He leaned closer to Reese, his voice low, “Youdoknow that women don’t get the vote in the US for another seventy years.”
“In Wyoming they get it in 1869,” Reese said, a little too loudly.
“Wyoming?” Ellen asked. “You have visited the Wild West?”
Reese groaned and muttered, “Jem, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” He had always taken for granted how forthright she was. Having to watch every little thing she said must be driving her crazy.
“You must not tell my brother, but,” Ellen leaned forward and her lowered voice took on a conspiratorial tone, “I am fascinated with stories of the brave pioneers.”
“There are different ways to be a pioneer,” Reese said. “One way is to go after something you want to do, something important.” She seemed to search her mind. “There’s Elizabeth Blackwell, and you must have heard of Ada Lovelace.”
“Who?” Jem hoped she hadn’t named women who hadn’t been born yet.
“Elizabeth was the first woman to graduate from medical school, and she was born in England,” Reese said.
“Ada Lovelace is Lord Byron’s daughter,” Ellen said.
“And is quite the mathematician,” Reese said.
“I fear my brother would not approve if I were to model my behavior after hers,” her ladyship said.
“Of course he wouldn’t.” Reese leaned back in her chair, her voice turning bitter. “Men of this time are threatened by smart, strong women.” Reese’s fiery enthusiasm had gotten Jem into trouble a couple of times when they were growing up, and she turned the full strength of it on the poor girl. “You are more than your womb, Ellen.”
The poor girl’s cheeks flushed a bright red, and Jem put his hand over Reese’s to stop her from saying anything else. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her.
