considered an urge for the outdoors a defect in a woman.
“May I ask what brings you to that conclusion, Your Grace?”
“It’s the second time I’ve seen you walk away from a warm place in the space of a few days. That’s not a woman who is amenable to confinement.”
“I wasn’t aware there were women who are amenable to confinement.”
That seemed to amuse him. “Most are. Confinement is but the other side of safety. Take the rule of law, or a warm room. Or a husband. Most women desire the safety that comes with this, and accept the confinement.”
Safety.
She wanted to be safe. But apparently, not at all costs. She had of course known that about herself already—what rattled her was that he, apparently, knew this about her, too.
“It doesn’t mean that women wouldn’t prefer freedom,” she said.
“Freedom,” Montgomery said, testing the word. “Is that what you prefer?”
His face revealed no clue as to why he was asking about her. She had to glance away, because looking into his clever eyes made her feel strange. Strangely overheated, strangely queasy low in her belly. Mundane gestures became infused with meaning; her senses opened and sharpened, and there was an unnerving awareness of the rapid beat of her heart against her ribs.
She focused on their hands, side by side on the granite banister. Her gloves looked shoddy next to pristine kid leather, and she dropped her hands and folded them in front of her.
“Yes, I prefer freedom,” she said. “John Stuart Mill says it is better to have choices even if it complicates matters, that it is better to be a dissatisfied human than a satisfied pig.”
Montgomery made a sound that resembled a laugh, choked back just in time. “Compelling,” he said. “Are you implying that most of your fellow women aren’t fully human?”
“I’m not implying that at all,” she said quickly. “I’m well aware that with how things are, the price women pay for independence is often too high.”
“Everything always has a price,” Montgomery said.
Still not a trace of resentment in his voice over her philosophical foray, no attempt to lecture her on John Stuart Mill. An unexpected thrill of elation licked through her, much as when they had been sparring over voting rights at the breakfast table. There was something to be said about debating with a learned man who had nothing to prove. It took more than an educated woman with opinions to threaten him. And that allowed for an easy, absurdly pleasing intimacy. He is still the enemy to your cause, you goose.
Montgomery turned toward the stairs leading down to the French garden. “Come, if you will.”
She took a step before it dawned on her that she was about to walk with him. Alone. Instinctively, she cast a look around the terrace for a chaperone. She saw the precise moment when the duke understood her predicament. His face assumed a mildly derisive expression. Do you think anyone here could stop me or hold me accountable? said that expression, and there was an annoying, challenging glint in his eyes. Blast her inability to resist a good challenge. To his credit, he didn’t gloat when she wordlessly took the arm he offered. He led her down the stairs in silence, then steered her left onto a gravel path.
“What do you think people would do if someone handed them their freedom on a platter tomorrow?” he asked.
They would breathe. “They would go on to find a purposeful life, suited to them.”
Montgomery shook his head. “They would be frightened witless.Why do you think some young people rebel until they hit a boundary?”
“To become capable adults with independent minds?”
“Hardly. To get a sense of themselves by way of their limits, to feel assured that there is something to stop them from spiraling into disorientation no matter what they do.” He seemed to have someone specific in mind now, for his voice had darkened with some private displeasure.
“Why not just ask the rebel in question about his motivations?” she ventured.
“But that presupposes that what he thinks he wants is actually what he needs.” He sounded bemused. Clearly, that wasn’t a possibility.
Annabelle peered up at him. The morning light was unforgiving on his face, showing every line. It had to be exhausting, striding through life knowing better what people needed than the people themselves. But that was part of his attraction, was it not? In a world where everyone was swept along in the murky current of circumstances, paddling frantically this way or that, his unapologetic