Blake made a dismissive gesture, bitterness tinging his words. “There is privacy, and then there is hypocrisy. Half the ton decries extra-marital affairs, and yet more than half have illegitimate sons or daughters. Surely it is better to live truthfully than in falsehood.”
“There is truth, but there are still some things that are simply not appropriate in a civilized society,” Jane said acerbically. “What will separate us from the animals if not civility? If not propriety and the way things should be?”
“What good is being civilized if it is all based on lies?” Blake shot back.
“Is it?” Jane tilted her head to the side. “Is being civilized truly all based on lies?”
“Not all, but so much of it.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “Besides, you cannot mean to tell me that you agree with all these silly rules.”
“I do,” Jane insisted.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Then why do you fence? Based on what we are told, a woman fencing is hardly proper.”
“I…” Jane flushed deeper, taking a step away from him.
Blake caught her eye. “And you are an archer. You read philosophy, or so I am told. You ride better than most men I know, and you are not above cheating to win. That is not exactly proper, ladylike behavior, is it?”
“But that is different.” She gestured around them.
“How is it different?” he asked.
“None of these cause any harm to people,” she replied.
“And kissing does?” Blake laughed softly.
“It can.”
“Do you not see that these are the roles we are told are an essential part of society? And yet they are stifling. We are taught that marriage is sacred, that a kiss is evil and depraved, and yet I tell you it is not.” Blake pictured his father’s face, recalling all the sermons he had listened to as he grew up.
A man who preaches piety and fidelity but does not know the meaning of either.
He was tired of the hypocrisy, of the people who behaved as though a kiss between two consenting adults (in a work of fiction, no less) was somehow worse than adultery.
“You do not think marriage is sacred?” Jane’s voice was full of cool anger.
“What? That is not what I said.” Blake’s mind was reeling—her question caught him completely off guard. “I… Does it matter what I think of marriage?”
“It does to me.” Her brown eyes found his, earnest and angry.
“Why?” he asked, his heart beating fast.
Why is she talking about marriage? Why does she care what I think?
“What do you mean why?” Jane frowned at him.
“Why does it matter to you what I think of marriage?”
“I—It… Well, I am hardly likely to take the opinion of a man who does not think marriage vows are sacred seriously, am I? Of course, such a man would trivialize the morality associated with a kiss,” Jane pointed out, an edge to her voice, still holding his gaze.
Something inside him stirred, but he pushed it away. He knew that he should put the idea of marriage as far from her head as possible. Yet, for some reason, he found himself unable to ridicule the notion.
After all, it is not as though I shall ever marry.
Blake sighed, his eyes boring into hers as he explained, “I have said nothing of marriage vows, rather the institution.”
“How is that different?” Jane arched an eyebrow at him.
“To some, it is not.” Blake smiled. “Though we are getting off-topic, Miss Pembleton. The point is, the kiss you read is between two characters who are in love with each other, and who, in fact, shortly thereafter end up getting married. So it is an entirely appropriate and proper exchange.”
