“But Fonte does not argue biology, Mr. Kilpert. She argues society, morality, history. It is in these realms men systematically subjugate women.” Elizabeth warmed to their debate. “How different might society look were our roles reversed and women held power over their own bodies. Our species should continue even then, should it not?”
“May I?”
Elizabeth handed him her book. He flipped ahead and read:
Do you really believe ... that everything historians tell us about men—or about women—is actually true? You ought to consider the fact that these histories have been written by men, who never tell the truth except by accident.
Elizabeth smiled as their eyes met. Mr. Kilpert was exceptional. A man unafraid to speak truth. She wished her husband had this scholar’s moral fortitude.
***
Just outside the drawing room, Milton overheard all. He was, to put it mildly, livid.
He took off down the hall, emotions churning in his breast. Who the hell did Lizzie think she was, taking overhisweekly sessions with Paul? He did not recall approving this—he recalledtelling her she could hire herself a different tutor, anyone butKilpert. Yet here she was, discussing radical ideas with his man.
Though what else should he expect? He’d lost command of her the moment she’d rescued him from Finch.And once obedience was lost, it was impossible to regain, let alone retain, control of one’s wife.
Elizabeth was clearly enamored of his tutor, who was everything Milton was not: well-bred, erudite, and disgustingly polite. Paul Kilpert was not the sort of fellow who needed to purchase himself a high-born wife. He didn’t need rules to protect his wife from himself, didn’t need his wife to submit to him in bed for fear he’d lose control of himself. No, he was the ideal bloody gentleman for a lady like Elizabeth.
And Milton loathed him for it.
He hated Elizabeth too, for not wanting, not choosinghim. He’d held hope before Finch, had sensed her warm to him, hell, begin to like him even. But he’d mistaken tolerance for affection. Forlove.
The rotten word popped unbidden to mind, a stab to his chest.Lovedid not enter into marriage, was not synonymous with a wife. A man loved his friends, his family. Milton would love his children someday. He prayed Elizabeth was with child already so he needn’t make more visits to her bed. For if she wasn’t…
He felt viscerally punched by the thought, forced to press his back against the wall to keep the world from spinning.
What if she was already pregnant? What if by enteringThe Canary’s Lairshe’d put not only herself but his heir at risk? Christ, what if both she andthe babe had died? Panic so intense filled his breast he?—
“Jasper?” Murdoch appeared at his side like a blessed vision. “You alright, boy? Y’ look like you’ve seen a ghost. I’ll have a cuppa brought t’ yer room.” She frowned with concern. “I’ve notseen you up an’ roamin’ th’ halls, Jasp. ’Tis good t’ have yer about again.”
“Murdoch, please.” He brushed her off as he gulped a lungful of air. “I’ve no wish for bloodytea.”
“Shall I tell the mistress, then, that you’re?—?”
“No, you are not to tell your mistress you have seen me at all. Nor have I any desire to see her.”
Murdoch’s concern turned. “You’re makin’ a mistake, Jasp.” She leveled her gaze at him. “You keep hidin’ from yer wife like this and she’ll start t’ think y’ care not a whit for her no more.”
“And what if I don’t?” he snarled, his insides roiling. “What if I married her for her title only, an’ she fer me coin? What then do it matter if I hides or flees from ’er, eh? It don’t! So leave me th’ hell alone, Martha.” His speech had disintegrated along with all shred of self-control. “An’ mind you follow orders an’ stop meddlin’ in me affairs.”
Milton leaned heavily against the wall to keep from falling as Martha Murdoch stomped off with a parting huff. Disgust filled his soul. For himself, for Elizabeth, and for blasted Paul Kilpert.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
No longer did the brooding baron eye his captive with a lecherous, bold gleam. He now abandoned her for days on
Elizabeth put down her quill and sighed. “Bella, what ails you?”
She tried to hide the fact she wished her husband, rather than her sister, had just interrupted her writing. Because she’d not had one word from Milton still, despite the stern talking-to she had delivered both Murdoch and Gerald regarding the Baron’s untenable behavior.
They’d been unable to sway him either.
“It’s gone, Lizzie.” Bella tore off her gloves.
“What is, dear?”
“Your necklace. The one you gave me to pawn. The one I swore I’d return.Gone.”
