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“She seems to have been educated like a gentleman,” Drysdale said. Charles mused to himself that Lord Drysdale indeed fancied himself the natural match of Lady Arabella. He had the feeling, though, that she was more than the Viscount could handle.
“She has,” the Duke stated.
“How is she to be a wife to a gentleman if she claims to be his equal?”
“What did she do to you, Drysdale?” the Duke replied, winking at Charles. He had to hold in a laugh.
“Just this morning, she—she argued that I was mistaken,” Drysdale said.
“Not used to being bested by a lady?” Charles asked.
“Are you, Mr. Conolly?”
“I have not met many ladies,” he commented. “Usually, I work with gentlemen. Although, why shouldn’t ladies speak their minds? Why shouldn’t they be educated? In my opinion, education improves the life of the mind.”
“It has long been my opinion that ladies should be educated, but not argumentative,” Lord Drysdale muttered.
“What’s the point of educating them if they aren’t allowed to speak their minds?” Charles asked, setting his cards face down on the table.
The Viscount was about to answer, but the Duke threw his head back, roaring with laughter.
“Oh, Mr. Conolly! I love how easily you make your point. No wonder you’re so successful in the court room.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.” While he might have been low-born, he had no plans to sit silently, listening to them just talk.
The Viscount merely looked perturbed.
“Well Lord Drysdale,” the Duke said. “If you still mean to court my daughter, you should probably take a leaf out of Mr. Conolly’s book. She’ll never submit to the will of a gentleman who means to make her second to him.” The Duke shook his head. “She’s not going to change, merely because she’s married.”
The Viscount flashed Charles a look that was filled with jealousy. Charles, not wanting to present himself as a threat to the Viscount’s suit— particularly when he never could be—shrugged.
“Perhaps, My Lord,” he suggested. “Why don’t you try treating her as your equal? See how it goes.”
The Viscount squinted, as he considered it. “Perhaps. After all, what have I got to lose?”
