Why must a wife promise to obey when a husband must not?
Therefore, as ever, I am unimpressed with your woe.
— Lady Justice
~o0o~
Dearest Lady,
You claim that a husband’s marriage vows promise less than a wife’s. And yet here is his vow: “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow.” That is, he gives her everything he has. He worships her like a goddess.
What more, kind lady, can you expect a man to give?
In long-suffering affection,
Peregrine
Secretary, The Falcon Club
~o0o~
To Peregrine, at large:
No doubt it has escaped your notice from your height of privilege that—despite the sacred words that you quote—when a woman weds, the Law of this Kingdom places her income, belongings, indeed her entire person in the possession of her husband. She has no power or authority over her money, her property, her children, even her own body. She can do nothing without his consent, including leave him if he treats her with cruelty.
Marriage does not bestow upon a woman a devotee. It shackles her to a prison guard.
— Lady Justice
~o0o~
Dear Lady,
I understand. You do not like marriage. Neither do I. From whichever direction one looks at it, it is a trap.
But, if you will, consider the principal benefit of the wedded state, which I cannot give a name to here (out of deference to your modesty), but which, assured every night, must be an advantage to both husband and wife. In rejecting marriage, are you so willing to relinquish that as well?
In doubt, yet most sincerely,
Peregrine
Secretary, The Falcon Club
~o0o~
To Peregrine, at large:
You seek to shock, or perhaps to titillate. You do neither. What antiquated, patriarchal notion of femininity suggests to you that a woman must first bind herself in marriage to enjoy that benefit which is readily available outside of the wedded state?
— Lady Justice
~o0o~
Dear Lady,
I can hardly write. My hand quivers so that the ink from my pen splatters on the page and I find myself obliged to blot it again and again.
I renew to you now my invitation to meet. Any time. Any place.
With hope,
Peregrine
Secretary, The Falcon Club
~o0o~
To Peregrine, at large:
In response to the invitation in your last letter, I offer three words: in your dreams.
— Lady Justice
~o0o~
Dear Lady Justice,
In sorrow I write to you a final time. The Falcon Club is no more. I beg of you, do not weep for this loss too bitterly. You have other poor souls to badger and other unworthy causes to pursue for the entertainment of your readers. Know, however, that my days will be duller, my nights meaningless, without your correspondence to sustain me. Only, dear lady, do not forget me. For I will most certainly not forget you.
With eternal admiration,
Peregrine
No longer Secretary, The Falcon Club
* Editor’s Note: Although Lady Justice continues to write publicly to the People and Rulers of Great Britain, she has not again mentioned Peregrine in the months since their last exchange. It is this editor’s fondest hope that they have finally met face-to-face, and that they have reconciled their differences sufficient to find pleasure in each other at long last. —G.M.
THE EARL
How does a bookish lady bring an arrogant lord to his knees?
Entice him to Scotland, strip him of titles and riches, and make him prove what sort of man he truly is.
Opposites…
Handsome, wealthy, and sublimely confident, Colin Gray, the new Earl of Egremoor, has vowed to unmask the rabble-rousing pamphleteer, Lady Justice, the thorn in England’s paw. And he’ll stop at nothing.
Attract.
Smart, big-hearted, and passionately dedicated to her work, Lady Justice longs to teach her nemesis a lesson in humility. But her sister is missing, and a perilous journey with her archrival across Scotland just might turn fierce enemies into lovers.
~o0o~
Turn the page for preview of Lady Justice and Peregrine’s powerfully romantic love story…
Excerpt from The Earl
The moon had ceded the night to the stars when she arrived at the meeting place they had agreed upon via letter: a small ancient cemetery surrounded by a fence and hedges on a street still busy with carriages and horse traffic. A long black cloak and veil aided the dark in disguising her.
Jonah walked beside her, a hood drawn around his face as well, but he would not accompany her to the meeting. For all his taunting, Peregrine did not frighten her. A man who dedicated his leisure time to rescuing strays was unlikely to harm a lone woman.
The cobbles shimmered with an earlier rain as she gestured for Jonah to remain across the