“H-how dare you speak to me that way,” Sir Peter stuttered out. “I am a respected peer, and you are a nobody. I am unwed because it is my wish to b-be so.”
“Oh dear, have I upset you?” Tilly cooed. “I assure you that was not my aim. After all, who wishes to deliberately insult and upset someone with no justifiable reason.”
The woman was devilishly sharp-witted. There was no getting around that fact.
“Wilson is an odd man, and clearly it has filtered down to his only child. Poor fellow. He’ll be saddled with you forever,” Hardacre mocked her.
“Yes, and clearly he has let her read too much, which is a fatal mistake, as no man wishes a wife who can?—”
“Read? Hold an intelligent conversation?” Tilly cut in. “Appear more educated than her fool of a husband?”
Sir Peter then leaned into her space before Ambrose could stop him and said, “Perhaps a gentleman’s mistress is the best you can hope?—”
“Enough!” Ambrose snapped. Stepping between the men,he moved to stand before Tilly. “One more insult from either of you, and it will result in my fist in your face. Now leave, both of you, and never speak to Miss Wilson, or any of the women who frequent the building behind her, in such an insulting way again!”
Raising his voice had not been a wise move because the throbbing in his head intensified, which increased his anger.
“How dare you?—”
“Hardacre, I’m not in the best of moods,” Ambrose warned. “If you stay, I will stop talking and start punching, and I care little about who sees or hears of the encounter, unlike either of you, who care a great deal about what society thinks of them.”
“We could take you,” Hardacre said, but Ambrose didn’t miss the nervous glance he threw up and down the road.
“For the love of God,” Ambrose muttered. “Leave now.” He took a step toward him, which had both men scurrying backward. They then fled, leaving him alone with Tilly—and more anger than he’d felt in a long time.
“That went well,” Tilly said, further inflaming his rage as he turned back to look at her.
He jabbed a finger at her. “You were reckless to goad those men. This is not a game you will win. There are many who will not hesitate to come after you for what you are doing because they see this club as an insult because of its location. I believe I told you to find somewhere else. You are upsetting the order of things.”
“The order of things needs to change,” she spat, cutting off his words. “And as a woman governed by rules created by men—rules that are archaic and unfair—I will not simply stand silent and allow the bias to continue.”
“You will end up thrown in a jail cell, or worse, if you don’t heed my words, and you’re dragging my sisters into your silly plans.”
His words, far from inspiring her to heed them, made her face tighten with anger instead. “Your sisters are old enough to make their own decisions, as you do, my lord. Perhaps you should allow them to do so.”
“They need my guidance,” he said, sounding pompous, and instantly regretting his words, especially as he’d just told Hardacre and Crabtree that he didn’t control his sisters. “What I meant to say is?—”
“No need to clarify,” she said, raising a hand. “I completely understand, my lord. Men who attend a male-only club are bastions of good sense and camaraderie. However, women doing the same are reckless and foolhardy—should I add brainless to that?” The words came out coated in ice.
“That is not what I meant at all,” Ambrose gritted out.
“Then please do explain.” She smiled sweetly at him, but it did not reach her eyes.
Anger radiated from Miss Wilson, and sparks shot from her pretty eyes that would have reduced him to ashes were she capable of the act.
He didn’t know how to explain that his actions were only to protect his sisters and not infer they were brainless. That a woman’s reputation was a delicate thing, and he had no wish for those he loved to be hurt in any way by a scandal.
“I do not make up the rules,” he said. “Society is, ah?—”
“Run by idiots who are all men, and they have placed all women in a small, restrictive box that allows them none of the freedoms they have?” she said.
Ambrose was good with words. He could talk in any situation and was known as something of a charmer with women. Right then, it was like he’d only learned to speak that morning.
“All I’m trying to say is?—”
“I have no wish to listen to anything else you have to say. I’m fully aware of your opinion of me, but I believedyou were more forward-thinking than some men. It appears in that I was wrong, so thank you, and good day, Lord Talbot.”
“No.” He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. “You’re going to listen to me.”
