The Importance of Being Wanton - Christi Caldwell Page 0,75
reading the article in silence, and as she did, her fingers clasped the pages harder and harder, noisily wrinkling the damning scrap.
“A need was identified,” she made herself continue, fighting to speak past an ever-spiraling rage and shock. “Unlike another less respected, less regarded club, who took itself too seriously, and who set out to lecture young women . . . breaking down the tenets of a functioning society, this new club proves an innovative, welcome addition . . .” A sound of frustration escaped her, and she slapped the newspaper down on the rose-inlaid table. Oh, this was too much.
“We are not a club,” Isla exclaimed.
That disrespect of what they preferred to be known as now seemed secondary when presented with this latest, and very real, threat.
And what made this moment of betrayal all the worse was the silence and the looks trained on Emma. She, who’d been so very certain that Charles would cease poaching her members and abandon his idea, which had been forged only to get to her. “That condemnation for the Mismatch Society comes because we are women,” Valerie said quietly. “Had we welcomed men into our folds—”
“We did.” Sylvia pointed out the addition they’d made of her husband.
“Just one, and one who was highly respected.” Annalee kicked out her legs atop the edge of the table. “Scarsdale’s band of rogues,” the young socialite drawled. “You have to admit, it would be enough to get nearly any woman in London into Lady Rochester’s parlor.”
“Not I,” Valerie muttered.
“Ah.” Annalee lifted a finger. “But just because you’re clever, dear, doesn’t mean all women are. And they aren’t. Not where men are concerned, anyway,” she added.
Lila sighed. “Unfortunately, Annalee is correct.”
Another wave of silence came. All the while, Emma’s mind spun, as did her . . . emotions. How could Charles do this? Why would he? And renege? Particularly after everything they’d shared?
The moment the thought slid in, a taunting voice at the back of her mind mocked her . . . for daring to make anything more of the wicked interlude in his chambers, or the chance exchange between her and Charles and his son. Once again, she’d let herself believe . . . more. Because you wanted it to be more.
When would she learn?
Olivia looked to Emma. “But . . . but . . . he never planned to cease his operation?” There was a hesitant question there from her friend.
“Apparently not,” she seethed, crumpling the hated pages between her fingers.
Why must Emma always be a fool where Charles was concerned? This time, when the frustration and resentment surged to life, it was directed at herself . . . and not at the bounder who’d not quit his poaching.
“The injustice of it all!” she exclaimed, no longer holding back. Outrage brought her to her feet, and her notebook tumbled to the floor. “Had we convened meetings between men and women, we would have met with condemnation.” She paced, stomping a path back and forth beside the stack of scandal sheets. “We are disparaged while they are praised. We are shamed while they are valued for what he created.” It was the way of the world, the wrong way, and she was tired to her soul of it.
“I confess to not being entirely clear as to what he’s created, exactly,” Valerie ventured. “All the stopping and starting . . . no offense, of course.” Unable to read another word in that scandal sheet aloud, Emma passed it back over, and the moment it reached the other woman’s hands, Valerie read silently to herself. When she finished, she looked up. “It appears to be a book . . . club?”
Annalee took it from the other woman’s hands and also skimmed. “Elucidating young minds . . . and more mature minds . . . through current works of literature,” the young socialite said to herself. “Apparently they are reading Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and discussing it as a social commentary on marriages and society.” This time she looked up. “I do have to admit that it is very clever.”
“Yes, it is,” Emma made herself admit aloud, because she was angry, but she wasn’t so very petty as to not see that Charles had come up with a rather brilliant venture. Not unlike the Mismatch Society, his establishment challenged existing social orders, but he’d chosen to do so by incorporating books young women enjoyed reading.
In short, everything he’d insisted about Locke and learning he’d cleverly applied to his new pursuit,