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Chapter Ten
“All things considered, it could’ve been worse.”
Marcella tipped her head back and gazed at Adeline, who sat nearby embroidering delicate, pink flowers. She looked almost like a painting with how nicely the light shined over her curls and her green gown. There was something romantic about her, like Guinevere sitting and thinking about her beloved Lancelot.
“You are practical, as always,” Marcella said, setting aside her carefully written notes.
Having failed to write an entire novel from beginning to end, Marcella had decided to try another approach, which was to write out which scenes sprang into her mind and then try to make something from the pieces.
“I meant only that you do not admire conventional gentlemen,” Adeline replied, undeterred, “and fate has been kind enough to offer you a most unconventional one, indeed.”
“So she has,” Marcella said. “However, that does not negate the reasons for my original protestation, namely that I’m being forced into an agreement which I do not wish to enter, and I’m not even being given the opportunity to prove that I can succeed as a writer.”
Adeline pursed her lips together and drew the thread through the fabric a couple more times. “I adore you, but sometimes, I wish that you’d been given more conventional desires.”
“Do you?”
“Not because I wish to see you be anything that you aren’t,” Adeline continued, “but because I feel as though the whole world is set against you. You would be happier and with considerably less effort if you could find it in your heart to be pleased with your unconventional gentleman.”
“I don’t know if I’d describe Lord Reginald as agentleman,” Marcella said. “Your point is well-taken, though.”
“A diamond in the rough. It does seem as though he’s led quite an adventurous life.”
Marcella hummed. “Most gentlemen have lived adventurous lives. It’s just that they usually live them among the naval forces, rather than in Southwark.”
“I’ve heard there are theaters and brothels on every corner.”
Marcella feigned a scandalized gasp. “Whereeverdid you hear something like that? A lady should not speak of such things, my dear friend.”
Adeline emitted a small, short laugh. “You’ve the audacity to question whether or not I’m a lady? Why, your father would shudder if he knew some of the texts you’ve read in private.”
He very likely would. Marcella hunted for scandalous texts as fervently as the Renaissance book hunters, who’d journeyed to distant monasteries in search of rare texts.
“I wouldn’t need to keep so much of my reading a secret if the world was not determined to control so tightly what women read,” Marcella replied. “The rakes may read whichever books they like, and yet I’m confined to only a small selection, which are determined suitable for my delicate sensibilities.”
“Ah, I see you’re sharing your philosophy on women again.”
“I suppose.” Marcella paused, considering her next words quite carefully. “Women who are of the working class seem to be capable of much more than women among theton,and I don’t believe that’s because of some innatethingwhich working class women have. I don’t believe they have stronger constitutions by nature, is what I mean to say.”
Adeline raised an eyebrow. “What is it due to, then?”
“Hardship, perhaps. Or society. But I think the same might be true of men and women,” Marcella mused.
“What does that mean for a man like Lord Reginald, then?” Adeline asked. “For a man who was bred to be a Duke, someday.”
“I don’t suppose I know him well enough to say, but based upon our conversation of the garden, I do think it has given him a different sense of morals,” Marcella replied. “It is most unfortunate, really, that I’m being forced into this engagement with him. Otherwise, I think…”
After Marcella trailed off with the unfinished thought, Adeline raised an eyebrow. “You think…?”
Marcella sighed and fixed her gaze upon the tiny pearls which decorated the hem of her white, flowing gown. “I think that we might even be friends. Or something close to it. Despite his roughness, I don’t find his company wholly disagreeable. I might find him even a little exciting.”
Indeed, Marcella felt the most delightful shiver sweep through her when she thought of the intensity of Lord Reginald’s eyes, so cold and piercing. He was a wild creature, and Marcella had the distinct impression that he could see straight through her.
Adeline’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Exciting, hm?”
Marcella nodded. “His life is like something out of a novel. A young, displaced nobleman being taken at a young age, forced to live as a vagabond, and then, returned to his rightful place. Justice is served to those who wronged him, and he marries a noblewoman. It’s a perfect, three-act drama.”
“Do we know that he wastaken?” Adeline asked. “I’ve heard the gossip, of course, but you know how reliable that is. What has the lord himself said of the matter?”
