“Why is it that I must wed? For that matter, why must marriages be as they are? The man gets to go out and work and make money, or in your case you just get to enjoy being filthy rich, but the typical woman must reserve herself to slaving away at home. Birth the babies, raise them, feed them, clothe them, change diapers, do the housework...”
“Well, I mean, we're of noble birth, that's not really things we have to do unless by choice or forced to do because of economic difficulties.”
“Which, tragically, is my present circumstances as you already know.”
“Mmh.” He gave a brief nod and a gunt that he understood and agreed with her statement. “So I suppose your upset is primarily focused on the commoner women?”
“Well, things aren't exactly easy for noble women either!”
“How so?”
“I can't believe you're so blind!”
“Please, calm down. I just want to hear it in your own words; tell me your point of view.”
“Don't tell me to calm down...” she shot him a cold look, and he rose his hands in surrender, eyebrows raising, lips pressing together. His right hand was brought down to his lips, fingertips turning on them as though turning a key, and made a 'throwing' gesture. “Alright then. Well we still only play second fiddle to the men. They're the heads of the household, they command the respect-” the Duke opened his mouth to say something but shut it again to let her continue, “-not to mention is the 'rule of thumb' not law? Look at your thumb! Likely quite average and yet imagine thrashing a woman with an iron rod that was that thick! Murder!”
A slight smirk on his mouth, an eyebrow up, as while he faced her directly his eyes lazily swept to the left, and then to the right, without moving his head. She then self-consciously found herself looking abo
ut. While the children at the picnic enjoyed their play, their parents gave shifty looks at the two on the bench. The older woman enjoying her walk with whom was likely her husband, had just been looking back to him after having been looking back at them, shaking her head before regarding her attention forth once again.
Emma's head lowered, she visibly swallowed, her sight coming down to the stone path, eyes flicking about nervously.
“I highly doubt that's actual law, but if it is...” he nodded to himself, and she watched this, staring daggers at him, awaiting some crass joke or remark. “... then I'd be at your side to petition its removal.” Her gaze widened initially, but then narrowed apprehensively, questioningly.
“Really?...” he gave a serious nod.
“That, or we make it go both ways, but well, men generally have bigger thumbs so we still win in that outcome.” Her features drooped humourlessly at this. “Though, what if we also made it law for married couples to practice fencing? Whenever there would be a domestic dispute it would be quite a show. En garde!” Flicking an arm up behind him, the other gabbed a closed fist in her direction, essentially gesturing at her thumb-first as though he were threatening the young spinster with a rapier.
Her eyes remained narrow, yet the edges of her eyes creased with the raising of the flesh on her cheek bones, lips pressing together in a vain attempt at suppressing the grin, her hair waving lightly as she gave her head a shake.
“You truly are daft.” She let the smile loose once she'd said it, smiling at him earnestly.
“Like a fox!” He gave bravely, keeping himself armed with his 'sword'. “Fwip, fwip, fwip!” Quite animated and cheerful, he did his best to keep himself reasonably quiet so as to not bother the rest of the park but none the less made some quick 'swipes' with the make-believe rapier in the direction of her chest. “Aha! Whom is the daft one now, knave?! You really lack such shame as to allow your breasts to hang freely?” He lowered his tone measurably upon this crass joke, and was rewarded with a laugh from the Viscountess, mockingly bringing her arms up to 'hide' her fully clothes bosom.
“Ah!” She gasped in pretend offence, “I'll have you know that they do not hang... they're quite perky.”
“Mmm, I'm sure they are... you're at the mercy of a dangerous and armed man, do you submit?” Declan raised his head, bringing the fist closer, directed in the rough direction of her throat. Her head, on the otherhand, lowered, her smile fading slightly though there was still a glimmer of amusement in her.
“You should know by now; I'm not one to submit.”
His hands came to rest at his lap, the show evidently over in terms of his swashbuckling. He smiled at her softly and earnestly.
“Strangely enough, in spite of my admiration of submissiveness in women... I think it may be my most favourite attribute of yours.” Her features flickered slightly, some redness coming to her cheeks, it was as though she had a difficult time either believing it, or figuring out what to make of it. “Perhaps after a few years it would become tiresome, what do you think?”
“I...” she shook her head lightly, staring intently into his eyes, her blushing face unable to hide her little smile.
Chapter 7
“I don't know, Em.” Her arms crossed, Janet peered side-long at her quite gravely, fingers rapping against her. “With his reputation, all this nonsense could be a clever show to get your guard down.”
“I understand your caution, it's quite valid. Still, I think-”
“Emma's a good judge of character; she wouldn't just open herself up to anyone.” Came blonde Denise with a smile, taking a sip from her cup of tea. The Viscountess nodded her thanks to the compliment even though it had come as an interruption.
“That may well be.” The skeptical and brunette with the short, modern haircut carried on. “Still, he's known to be quite crafty. God only knows how many illegitimate children he might have.” Unfolding her arms, she took up her cup of coffee which Denise had bought especially for her.
“Really. He seems quite clever, I don't think you give him enough credit, he'd be more careful than that.” Emma held the saucer in-hand, setting the cup down on it.