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

by Evie Dunmore

For if a woman was a person in her own right, one could conclude she was also in possession of a mind and a heart of her own, and thus had needs of her own. But the unwearyingly self-sacrificing good mother and wife must not have needs,

Trust him to offer a lady a smoke.

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

She would of course balk at the idea of being a muse, passively inspiring a man just by the grace of her existence.

“Perhaps I have always liked and admired you, Lucie.”

She was learning she was that, emotional.

His mind was fluid and fast, it resented the rigidness of conventions rather than find comfort in their constraints.

He had not wanted to be good in half a lifetime, but now he did; he fair ached with it.

“Good Lord, man, this is not a robbery,” Lucie said, exasperated.

All those years, she had despised him. All those years had been kinder, warmer, more purpose-filled because of her four-legged friend. At some points, her only friend.

“Why does one love?” There was a frown in his voice. “Why, one just loves, Lucie.”