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No one at the place cared that Sesily was a scandal, or that Adelaide was a wallflower, or that Imogen was odd, or that the duchess lived her life as though she’d never been married in the first place. And because of that, the foursome made it their haunt.
In the two years Sesily had worked alongside her, the duchess had used her wide-reaching influence to solve scores of what she referred to simply as problems—many for the women in this room. Brutal husbands with heavy hands, fathers and brothers who treated daughters and sisters like chattel, business owners who mistreated their employees, brothel owners who didn’t respect their girls’ work, men who didn’t take kindly to the word no.
Sesily and the others’ nocturnal activities aside, women of sense did not leave the house without a weapon. Not in London in 1838, at least. A queen on the throne had ensured that too many men had taken entire leave of their senses.
Whoever you were, whomever you loved, whatever your journey to yourself, there was a seat for all women at The Place.
“Hesitation in battle is for dramatic novels and play fighting,” she replied.
“I do not require a handkerchief to punish the man who did this to you.”
He scowled. “I’m never here. I do not require guest quarters.” She smiled. “So, there is only one bed.”
She looked like land after a month at sea.
“In my experience, I have found it best to begin all conversations with men with severe mistrust.”
Caleb held his breath, the air between them shifting, throwing him off balance. What had been frustration was now anticipation. What had been concern was now desire. What had been fear was now need.
Those fingers, stroking over her cheek, back and forth, the pad of his thumb rough and wonderful, making her want to grab his hand and hold her close. “We leave your family? Your friends? The work—the world—you are building? What kind of man would I be if I took that from you?” She swallowed around the frustration in her chest. “The kind of man who knows it should be my choice.”
His words were like steel. “I’ll destroy anyone who calls you that.” “Well we’re going to need a bigger carriage for all the bodies, because it’s half of Mayfair,” she retorted, turning back to face him, the lantern light from the carriage beyond casting him into shadow. “You idiot man, I don’t care what they call me. I don’t belong to them. They cannot touch me. Not when I am here. Not when I am with you.”
And he said the words she’d dreamed of him saying for two years. Except, he said them all wrong. “I love you, Sesily Talbot.”
He reached for her through the bars, his fingers brushing across her cheek, sliding into her hair. “I’m sorry. Shall I try it again?” “I’m not sure you’ll do it right this time, either,” she said, anger in her words for the first time since she’d appeared at the bars of his cell. “I need you, Caleb. I don’t need you in prison, protecting me. I need you out here, shoulder to shoulder. With me.”
He leaned close. “If our marriage were like the others, I wouldn’t be married to you. You, who I’ve wanted from the first moment I saw you. You, who I’ve ached to make mine from the start. Marry me, love.” She answered him with a kiss.
