Because she was on the step above him, their eyes were level, and it would only take him leaning in to touch his lips to hers. He instantly backed up a step, releasing her.
“I don’t want to listen to a man who has every right in this world to do as he wishes,” she snapped back. “A man who could, with a handful of words, destroy my reputation and likely have me thrown in jail!”
One thing he’d always noted about this woman was that she was never without words—unfortunately.
“You can educate yourself,” she hissed. “You can vote and walk about the place alone. You can have affairs with whomever you wish, yet we must stay pure until we marry.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose as she continued to lecture him on women’s rights, like he hadn’t had this exact speech multiple times from his sisters. He then counted slowly to see if that calmed him.
“I think a few women in positions of authority would help the plight of many, but because we are the more intelligent sex, you men are terrified that we will put you to shame.”
He couldn’t help but admire the fire in her eyes. Color rode the ridges of both cheeks, increasing her beauty. No, she was absolutely not beautiful. Infuriating, more like.
“Tilly—”
“That’s Miss Wilson to you, seeing as I don’t call you Ambrose or Rosie,” she added with a mocking smile. “After all, you are a lord, and I am?—”
“Shut up,” he said in a hard voice, cutting off her words.
Ambrose and his sisters had nicknames for each other.When he was ten, he hadn’t minded the one they’d given him, but he found he disliked it more as an adult.
“Just be quiet,” Ambrose said again, this time with a tired sigh.
When she opened her mouth again anyway, he put a gloved hand over it. She wrenched free, but instead of speaking, she just looked at him. Her eyes ran over his face.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded.
She leaned closer and he drew in a breath that filled his senses with her scent. Lemons and vanilla?
“What?”
“You have smudges under your eyes, my lord, and that’s not attractive on anyone, even you?—”
“Even me?”
She waved his words away. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
“Other than the fact that I’m standing here in the rain and cold, debating with a deranged woman, do you mean?”
She had the audacity to nod.
“I have a headache,” he muttered. Why he’d given her that ammunition against him, he had no idea.
And just like that, the glare fell from her face. “Oh dear, aren’t they beastly? I used to get them all the time before I got my spectacles. I find I cannot do without them for reading now.”
He frowned at her. “I do not need spectacles.”
“Of course you don’t,” she scoffed. “Heaven forbid you, a powerful peer, a man, would have what you perceive as a weakness.”
God, this woman was exhausting. “Are my sisters inside that place?” he gritted out, changing the subject before she could continue with the lecture.
“Not yet.”
“Never if I have any say,” he muttered.
“That’s up to them,” she countered. “And this place has aname. I would appreciate you using it, my lord.” She pointed to the small sign above the door which readThe Iris Club.“Iris means?—”
“Faith, courage, valor, hope and wisdom.” This time it was he who interrupted her, and he was grateful for the nanny he’d had as a child who had a love of all things flora and fauna.
