Page 91 of The Gentlewoman Companion

The old man began blustering. “Well, I…not⁠—”

“Hush, Siegfried. She didn’t kill you.” Mrs. Albert said. “I find this fascinating. Why do we so often judge men and women differently when presented with similar circumstances?”

They talked for some time of their preconceived notions of the genders, each sharing examples of men and women who acted against those generalizations. When they began to discuss the subservience and obedience of women, the young lady across from Louisa gave an unfortunate contradiction. “Miss Thorpe fled her father when he arranged her marriage rather than obey his will.”

Heavens. Was this young lady sent to air all—or almost all—Louisa’s bad behavior?

“My, you are daring.” Mrs. Albert punctuated the statement by blowing a puff of air from rounded lips.

“Daring, perhaps. Foolish, no doubt.” This from Mr. Stillingfleet. “When the situation is taken objectively, scientifically, no one will agree so drastic an action can be beneficial for familial peace. Young ladies who flee the wisdom of their parents do not benefit society. Far better that such a one accept the marriage her father thinks best for her.”

“Marriage is not scientific!” The young lady blustered. “I declare, Stillingfleet, that is a hard attitude.” She turned redder with every word but pressed on. “As others have said, you are not taking circumstances into account. Scientifically, no English rose, however strong its roots, will survive if transferred to indifferent soil.”

“Well spoken, Miss Frances,” said Mrs. Albert. “However, to Mr. Stillingfleet’s point, we may draw lessons from Clarissa. I expect everyone has read it. Her circumstances certainly did not improve when she chose to reject her father’s wishes.”

Louisa’s breath came shallowly, but she would not allow herself to be slighted or misrepresented. Only the day before, she had saved her brother and her own reputation, a feat that required courage and strength of will. She, Louisa Thorpe, a sometimes impulsive and always an insignificant young chit from Cornwall, had found the wherewithal to bargain with a jeweler, deal with a moneylender, and most difficult, reason with her underserving brother. She would not sit by without defending herself.

“From that novel,” she said, “we learn the damage forceful parents have on their children. There is no question Clarissa made a great misjudgment, but she was right to object to the odious Mr. Solmes. Her greedy parents were as much to blame for her fate as she was.”

“Novels!” the mustached man cut in. “The incalculable damage done by twaddle that puts ideas into young people’s heads, causing them to run away from their parents and gallop through Hyde Park.”

“I beg your pardon, sir.” Louisa’s voice was firm. “Perhaps if at seventeen your parents had chosen for you a forty-five-year-old bride with seven children, you might sympathize.”

He turned a derisive eye on her. “Younger women often marry older men to propagate the family line.”

Heat ignited the roots of Louisa’s hair. “If women are so minimized, it stands to reason the only use for men is to feed and shelter women and children. Thus, a young man’s marriage to a mother and widow makes perfect sense.” Her chest heaved. The ribbons adorning her cuffs were in tatters, but she was pleased at having said her piece.

Across the room, Lady Halverton stood, serene and stately, beautiful in floral brocaded silk. The room fell silent at her command. Louisa felt her immense fortune at having her as a mentor and began to hope she would someday emulate the poise and magnetism her mistress possessed.

“Let us now change places.” Lady Halverton clapped, and the party began moving to different circles.

Louisa saw James and walked toward him but was intercepted by the young lady who’d announced her indecorous behavior in Hyde Park.

“You must teach me to drive, Miss Thorpe.”

“Certainly, if your mother approves.”

The young lady’s face fell, and Louisa excused herself to seek James. A hand wrapped around her arm. Miss Trelawney, smiling as if it was not her fault the whole world was discussing Louisa’s bad decisions.

“Come.” She pulled Louisa into a chair next to her and introduced her to the two young ladies who had helped spread the news of Louisa’s flight from her father.

They were all friendliness and interest, inviting her to a ball, but Louisa, thinking only of James, caught his eye and smiled. He only half returned her grin. Crossing his arms, he leaned back, his mouth becoming a firm line as his brow tensed.

Did he regret their kiss? Frigid doubt constricted Louisa’s chest. Had she misunderstood his intentions?

It was not possible. He had said he adored her face and admired her courage. He was the most trustworthy person she knew, a man of principle and integrity. He would not mislead her.

But hadn’t she raised her mouth to his?

Oh, Mama! Have I done it again? Have I misjudged a man’s affection?

The evening passed in a distracted blur of doubt and analysis, furtive glances at Lord Halverton, and asking her companions to repeat themselves but comprehending nothing.

When the guests departed, Lady Halverton urged Louisa and James to the parlor and quizzed them as to the success of the evening. After they had each praised her preeminent hosting and the intellectual conversation, Lady Halverton announced she would retire early and excused herself with a kiss to each, glancing between the two with a knowing look before leaving them alone.

Louisa could not suffer more than a second of silence. “Did you enjoy the evening, my lord?”

“I did, though I wished to sit near you.”