Page 41 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“We will agree to disagree on this point. But we can agree that given how society views a woman with unpopular opinions, it is better that she remains quiet.”
“No, again, my Lady. I do not agree with you on this point. I agreed with you yesterday in the coach, that freedom to speak one’s mind is in fact a freedom all should enjoy, especially my wife.”
“Is that so?” She was not convinced.
“Indeed, it is so. In fact,” he announced, “I have made it another rule between us.”
“My Lord?”
“That my wife, my Lady Henrietta, should always have the freedom to speak as she finds, to share and express her thoughts, even if they sound like opinions unpopular in society.”
It all sounded very good—unusual—but good. In fact, only time would tell if he meant any of what he said. She had no reason to doubt him, but honestly, she had no reason to trust him either. She would just have to wait it out. If he continued to assert such things, she might have to believe him.
“My goodness, my Lord. That is dangerously liberal of you. In the best of ways, of course.”
“Of course. I am no rake, my Lady. I am a gentleman, as you know.”
“May I speak with freedom then, my Lord Marquess?”
“Have you not been? Have I not done all in my power to encourage you? Your ideas are quite safe with me.”
She laughed. “So, you seem eager to communicate. However, may I point out, respectfully, of course, that while you will tolerate no insult to my person by a stranger, you yourself perpetrated a gross insult upon me just two days ago.”
He stiffened. “How so, my Lady?”
“You do not recall?”
He recalled. Painfully. “Of course. And again, I issue my Lady my humblest and sincerest apologies. Again.”
“And I accept again, although there is no need to repeat it. I mention it only to point out the hypocrisy.”
“Hypocrisy?” he said with surprise.
“Yes. You insulted me at the altar, when you stared, and you ran, abandoning me there. Now, this day, you are enraged by insulting actions that were directed at me—although I was the one you first insulted on our wedding day.”
She felt quite proud of herself, cleverly calling him to account for his behavior. She cared not that she was calling him a hypocrite. He deserved it. Suddenly, a veil seemed to drop over his eyes, darkening them dangerously.
“My behavior toward you that day was unacceptable as was the behavior of Mr. Booth just now. In that there is no hypocrisy.”
A chill descended between them despite the warmth of the tea room. They finished up their tea, decided against the cake, and endured a long and quiet walk back to the Old Bell.
Chapter 17
The mood in the coach carrying the General and Tabitha Oliver away from Nightingale was dark. Gloom seemed to be the order of the October day, despite the sun poking tentatively through the steely gray clouds.
Finally, General Oliver broke the dour silence. “She is lost to us now, Tabitha.”
Tabitha said nothing in response. The rolling of her eyes announced her annoyance with her husband, but he did not take note of it.
“I am most miserable and cheerless. I thought weddings were to be happy affairs.”
Now her response came, and it was sarcastically shrill. “Are you surprised to be feeling melancholy, my dear? Surprised that your tough general’s heart might feel miserable and cheerless at having thrust your only child so far from you? What, pray tell, did you expect to feel?”
“Ouronly child,” he corrected.
“Indeed. Our only child. Thank you for the reminder.”
The General lifted his drooping head to look at her, her quip hitting its intended mark with painful accuracy. Though she wounded him with her heartless words, she did not regret speaking them. She was angry with him. She had spent her adult life both explaining him and placating him, and her efforts had come to naught. Despite her normally persevering nature, she felt very much finished with all of it.
