“It is not a case of my opinion,” Teresa answered. “Or even of abilities. They are not given the chance. They are not well educated. They are controlled, patronized, treated as exhibits rather than persons. Loved by their families, yes usually, but not allowed to undertake real actions of their own.”
The earl nodded. “That is often true, I think. I admit I hadn’t realized how true until I met these particular young ladies and found them very different from others I’d encountered. They are quite enterprising in using their intelligence and curiosity.”
“Time will take care of that,” said Teresa. “Society will wear it out of them. Unless their world falls apart, of course, and they become part of the invisible flotsam of disaster.” This remark earned her a sharp look from Lord Macklin. She pressed her lips together. She was exposing too much. And why was she bothering to argue? Did she care so greatly what he thought?
“They mean to keep on,” said Tom. “They told me so.”
“They will acquire husbands who will not allow this.”
“They mean to find husbands who do.”
Teresa shrugged at the lad’s naivete. “Young men make many promises when they are wooing. But once married they expect ‘proper’ behavior. Why else do people say it that way—the knot is tied? That sounds like imprisonment, no?”
“You are harsh to us men,” said the earl. His gaze was even more speculative.
She must stop this, Teresa thought. It was too revealing. But she couldn’t seem to. “Do you claim to know of liberal husbands?”
“Only a few,” he acknowledged. “And some of them have had to learn hard lessons to achieve that state.” He smiled as if this was half a joke.
“I don’t believe in them.”
“But—”
She cut him off with a gesture. “You do not see these paragons when they are left alone with their wives. Or hear what they say to them then.”
The earl hesitated. She waited for a sharp response. But he said, “That is true. I suppose I can only speak for myself as a husband.”
“Yourself?” Teresa became aware of an acute interest in the nature of his marriage. The thought of Lord Macklin as a husband was riveting. She pushed on, even though she knew she should end this conversation. “I suppose you will say you allowed your wife to do as she pleased?”
“I did.”
“And she also had the power to give this permission to you?”
“What?”
“Oh, it did not occur to you that she had that right?” His expression was answer enough. The idea had never entered his head.
“Perhaps it did not,” said the earl slowly. “Not in those terms.”
“I suppose she never wanted to do anything you thought wrong,” Teresa added. “Because she was too well trained. That is what draws men. Along with beauty, of course.” No doubt his wife had been lovely and serenely biddable. One of those fortunate women to whom life gave everything. She felt a ridiculous spike of envy.
The earl seemed to be pondering her words. “That is not so,” he said finally. “We disagreed.”
“Until you convinced her that you were right.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Celia was a warm, intelligent, sensible person. I admired her enthusiasm for life as much as her beauty. I listened to her opinions and often came round to them.” He met her eyes. “As you have said, no one else was present in those moments. You will have to take my word for it.” His tone and his face promised that his word was good.
Teresa gazed at him in confusion. The difference between what she knew to be true about the world and the scene before her was driving her distracted. She didn’t want to try to decipher it. But could anyone play a role all the time? Pretend to be reasonable and kind with every phrase, every action, every change of expression, even when no one seemed to be noticing? She didn’t think so. She was extremely sensitive to deceit; she would have caught him. It seemed this man was not playing some deep game that she hadn’t yet understood. He really was honorable and accommodating, as well as a dizzyingly handsome nobleman, a combination she had not thought possible. Her admiration, her intense attraction to him, was not foolish. It was merely madness.
“So what else can we do to catch this crook-pated varlet?” asked Tom.
Teresa started. She’d actually forgotten the lad was there. He’d been so uncharacteristically quiet. And she’d been so absorbed in the conversation. She noted a twinkle in Tom’s eyes.
“We must realize that this phaeton driver has not actually been connected to the disappearances,” Lord Macklin replied. “We mustn’t stop looking for the kidnapper.”
“I’ll keep on asking questions at the theater,” said Tom.
“Carefully,” said the earl. “Someone who is abducting opera dancers won’t appreciate scrutiny. He might take steps.”
“I’ll be subtle,” answered Tom, as if it was a joke between them. “I can be,” he told Teresa.
Lord Macklin laughed. “That was the first evidence of your acting skills, I suppose.”
“I cannot come out like this again.”
Teresa didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until the earl asked, “Why not?”
“It is not apropiado.” It was ironic that she should fall back on convention, but the truth was not acceptable.
“Friends may go for a drive,” said Lord Macklin.
“We are not friends.”
Tom looked surprised.
“You have some objection to being friends with me?” asked the earl. His face was unreadable.
“Friends are equals. We can never be that. With the great difference in our circumstances.” Her life was calm and settled. He would turn it upside down. No, he already had. And she must fight her way back to safety.
“You would find much in common with Miss Julia Grandison,” he said.
Teresa blinked at this unexpected reply. She was nothing like the towering woman who had looked down her nose at everyone at the play. Was this some sort of insult?
“Tom and I are friends,” Lord Macklin added.
How much longer would she be shut in this carriage, her leg inches from his? His gaze was much too acute. Teresa looked out to see where they were. The outskirts of her neighborhood streamed by. “The cases are entirely different,” she said. This was true whether or not she believed in their friendship. Tom was a boy, and she was a woman on her own.
“Ah,” said the earl.