Page 62 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Harlan chewed on the inside of his cheek and swirled the contents of his glass. He glanced briefly at Ezekiel, but the other man pressed the pads of his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. Seemed his friend also had a headache, though from a different source.
It took a lot to work Ezekiel up, and while Harlan might sympathize, a part of him couldn’t help being amused by Ezekiel’s ire. It helped curtail his irritation over the woman’s dismissal. Shrew she might be, but at least she had a mind ofher own. She might eventually find a husband that would put up with her free thinking. She was certainly attractive enough.
He tapped a finger on the side of the glass. “That entirely depends on the situation at hand.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “A diplomatic answer to cover your belief that women are merely porcelain dolls to be kept on a shelf?”
“Lessie…” Ezekiel started. Rose took another sip of her own drink and smoothed her gown.
Lady Celeste held up a hand. “No, no. I’d like to know what our guest really thinks.”
He wasn’t sure if the shift from using his name to calling him theirguestwas an improvement or another insult. He suspected the latter. Her skill at turning a statement that should’ve been kind and hospitable into something acerbic was unmatched. Only half an hour spent in her company, and she’d proven herself a force to be reckoned with.
He took another moment to think through his response, sipping his brandy. The oak-and-cardamom taste washed over his tongue, calming his nerves and his headache. Though both still gnawed at him, the alcohol acted as a balm. “I meant just what I said—it depends. Whose perspective would you prefer to analyze?”
“I daresay yours, Master Shackley.”
Ezekiel threw back the rest of his second drink. His wife took his empty glass before the servant could refill it once more.
Harlan tapped the side of his glass again to give himself time to think. “Groups of people are not monoliths, and to consider them so is an injustice.”
“Monoliths they may not be, but society slots them into predetermined roles regardless.” She set her book aside and clasped her hands upon her crossed knees.
“Expectations keep society afloat. Order is important for survival, but that doesn’t mean women are only valuable tucked away on a shelf.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Interesting point, Master Shackley. Care to expand on it?”
“Someone’s worth is determined by what they do with the life they’re given, not by how society labels them.” He set his brandy on the side table with a softchink.“However, you can also argue those labels hold some truth. A home needs running. It needs protecting—whether that be physically or financially—and the people best suited to performing those tasks should take them in hand. Whether those roles are fulfilled by the lady of the house, the lord, or even a butler ought to be decided between the parties involved, not an outsider looking in.”
Ezekiel and his wife whispered in the corner; the younger Lady Fairchild’s gaze sharpened, with surprise this time rather than hostility. “Your opinions don’t align with those of your contemporaries, which I find odd for a man of your station.”
“Men of my station, as you say, usually cling to their birthright and don’t dare venture any ideas that lead away from it.”
“And you do not cling to yours?”
He didn’t answer, only picked up his glass once more and took a drink. The butler reappeared just when he needed him to. “Dinner is ready, my lord.”
Ezekiel offered his elbow to his wife before looking at Harlan and his sister. “Shall we?”
He’d seemingly decided to ignore his sister’s attitude. Harlan gave his glass to the servant and made to follow the couple.
“I will allow you to escort me to the dining hall,” Celeste said breezily, rising from the chair with her book in hand.
Harlan raised his brows, but he held out his arm. He wasn’t sure if it was a test or not, and he was unsure if he wanted to pass it.
With her book tucked under her arm, she slid her other hand into the crook of his arm. For all her mighty temper, that hand looked dainty and porcelain-like against the black of his dinner jacket. “This means nothing other than the fact you have managed to intrigue me, Master Shackley.”
Ezekiel looked back with a small smirk playing at his mouth. Lady Celeste didn’t see it. Harlan wished he hadn’t.
Harlan led Celeste into the dining hall. “And the book?”
“I said you intrigued me.” She moved toward the seat pulled back by one of the servants. “Yet intrigue can wax and wane. You could very well prove to be a banal dining companion.”
“Thus, the book?”
“Thus, the book.”
He could not imagine he would prove such a poor dinner companion as to be bested by a book, but then, he had yet to catch the title.
