A Rogue of One's Own (A League of Extraordinary Women, #2)

by Evie Dunmore

What did one say to someone so lovely and fierce?

“The Duchess of Montgomery is part of the Investment Consortium, as you may know.”

Mary Wollstonecraft: I do not wish women to have power over men, but over themselves.

“Have you not read your Darwin? The male flaunts himself, the female chooses, it has ever been thus. Beware the determinedly chasing male—he is hoping you won’t notice his plumage is subpar.”

And all that’s best of dark and bright / Meet in her aspect and her eyes . . .

You are bluffing, said Boudicca’s green stare. You were as lost as I was and in dire need of company.

it was a gift from tristan wasn’t it

I’m afraid the idea that a woman is a person, whether married or not, is so inherently radical no matter which way I present it I shall be considered a nuisance.”

I understand how being pleasant can keep the peace, but how will it win a war?”

not only women, but some men, too, were drawn to his face,

“I’ve known it a long time, since when he had Jarvis drown Kitten—do you remember her? You had given her to me for my thirteenth birthday.”

The bag had bopped erratically; a tiny cat inside had struggled and cried for her master to save her. Her master never came. He’d been pinned to the banks of the pond by an iron grip, his throat aching from the screams he was holding back. Kitten and bag had been swallowed by the waters, leaving barely a ripple.

I offered to shoot five men for Lucie Tedbury, and I am not certain what it means.

He looked indecent, and his mouth was edged with a knowing arrogance. She had very nearly kissed this mouth. Her lips were burning, angrily, because she hadn’t.

“A man’s lack of voice is connected to his lack of property,” she murmured. “A woman’s lack of voice is forever connected to the fact that she is a woman.”

“It’s quite the same,” Tristan said. “Idealism, cynicism. Two sides of the same coin.” “And the coin, what would it be?” He waved his hand with the cigarette. “A yearning to control our fickle destinies.” His tone was faintly dramatic. “The cynic is but an idealist who preempts the shock of disappointment by deriding everything himself.

“Society is dumber but stronger than you,” he murmured. “Be devious. Be subtle. If you can.”

She was a phantom of delight, When first she gleam’d upon my sight A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay

“I reckon it also makes you want to dance the first dance with me.” She was staring at the back of the fellow in front of them again. When she spoke, a smirk was in her voice. “Why don’t you try and find out, my lord.”

“I’ll take it,”

“Your offer.” She raised her chin. “A night in your bed for a percent of shares. I’m taking it.”

“Then I suggest you lock the door.”

“Think of me what you must. But understand that I’d rather be damned than shag you unless you want it for acceptable reasons—and the only acceptable reason is lust. Pure, plain lust.”

Most men are by nature rather perverted, and if given half the chance, would engage in the most revolting practices—including performing the act in abnormal positions; mouthing the female body, and offering their own vile bodies to be mouthed in return.

“I believe you told me to eat,”

“Rochester is blackmailing me and holding my mother hostage.” He said it quickly.

She must have held a hope deep down that despite what the world told her every day, she was just as deserving to be handled with care as the next woman.

“The meaning,” she said loudly, “is that if Lord Ballentine spent the night in my bed, he cannot have spent it compromising my cousin.”

“It may please you, then, that the only woman I ever loved rejected me,” Tristan said coolly.

“Why, Lord Ballentine, of course.”

knew it

“I think I love you.”

“You think?”

“Oh,” she said faintly. “Yes, please.” “And afterward, when you are soft and in a good mood, I shall try and convince you to let me blackmail a peer or two into supporting the amendment of the Property Act.” She sighed with delight.