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“Go on.” The blonde agreed with the brunette. Very enthusiastically.
“Truth and honesty.” Janet narrowed her eyes questioningly, Denise cocked her head slightly sideways, her bright hair swaying as she did. “It's something he'd been thinking a lot about, it would seem. Being truthful brings about the best outcome. As much as he hopes things work out with us, if I were to decide that what happened is so unacceptable to the point of having me break off the relationship-”
“Which would kill your mother.” The short-haired friend quickly provided usefully.
“- then that's for the best. After all, if...” she tried to remember how he'd said it, how his logic had worked out. The two others thankfully gave her a moment. “... if I would find him unacceptable for sharing such... difficult things... then that means he wouldn't be able to confide anything in me even if something worse or something not quite as bad happened. Long-term partners should be able to talk about most anything, no matter how difficult. So, while telling me that did threaten his chance of a long-term relationship between us, it could also potentially make clear our chances overall?” Emma was peering down at the table, her eyes squinting, not sure if she'd said it right.
“My, that sounds quite...”
“Hmph.”
“... quite thoughtful. Like he'd thought about it. A lot.”
“I think he did, Den. I didn't say it quite as well
as he did, but it made a lot of sense. He also promised to never do anything like that again if we end up getting engaged.”
“It's getting that serious?” Janet asked gravely. Emma looked to her with the centres of her eyebrows curved up, lips pressed together, giving a shrug. It seemed more like a weak apology than a show of uncertainty though.
“Well, your mother would certainly be happy, if no one else.”
“A great many men might be happy; wouldn't have to worry about their wives being scooped up by him. The Duke is quite handsome after all.” Denise gave, and Emma smiled to her.
“Quite wealthy too...” she gave in a sing-song voice, which brought a merry giggle from the blonde. The brunette crossed her arms again, not quite convinced.
“Still smacks of disloyalty to me. I still think he's a bastard.”
“Janet, you think all men are bastards.” The Viscountess pointed out.
“She's not wrong.”
“You used to be of a similar mind.” The brunette produced her own point. “Why the change? Why for such a womanizer as him? Come on, surely it's just because of your mother's pressure that you're even considering that sleeze.”
“Well...” she considered it a moment. “... that's very likely at least one aspect of it, but, I don't know, he just seems so very different from what I had been expecting. I especially didn't expect such honesty from him.”
“If what he said was honest and true.”
“I truly think he was. For better or worse. That's what he'd said, to! He didn't particularly want to tell me that, for obvious reasons, but... he still did, 'for better or worse' as he put it.” The woman across from her maintained folded arms under her huge bust, the best endowed of the table, her faintly pudgy face as untrusting as ever when the subject of men was on. Beside her, her far sweeter and smaller friend positively glowed at Emma.
“I'm so happy you've found someone, Em. You really seem to like him.”
“Y'know, I rather do.”
“Ohhh...” the blonde scooted her chair back to rise, and with a growing smile Emma did as well, allowing the two to embrace warmly. “You can really have a good life with him.” Her tender and high-pitched tone gave, she has always been quite the romantic. “Your mother would be happy, neither of you would ever want for anything.”
“Ugh...” muttered the skeptic, putting her tea down and folding her arms again. The hug she witnessed over such a matter finally broke as the two went back to their seats after a final look to one another's eyes, happiness beaming from each. Denise already had a shiny wedding ring on her finger, and evidently she looked forward to the day that Emma joined her in voluntary slavery, too. That's how the short-haired one viewed it anyhow, the biggest and oldest at the table.
“You'd have servants to do all the cleaning and cooking, to change the nappies-”
“To be buggered by your 'husband'. He's probably already screwing them if he has them, the bastard.”
“That was just cruel,” Denise chided the woman, not something she did often of course.
“Agreed!” There was a level of outrage in her tone as she spoke the word, staring at the woman across from her, folding her own arms as well.
“He'll screw anything that moves! Don't be daft; he might be playing you like a fiddle, ready to take you for a night, drop you off back at your mother's, and you'll never hear from him again!”
“I don't think there's anything I can say at this point that would change your mind.” Emma then gestured to the woman at the end of the table. “Denise's husband has been treating her like a Queen, yet you still think he's a-... well...”
