He glanced at her, sitting across from him in her fine forest green muslin dress that hugged her bosom and then dropped away to loosely gather around her. He caught her vivid emerald eyes when she looked over at him, noticing him scrutinizing her. He dropped his gaze, but not before the thought crossed his mind of just how much he would like to let down the pile of midnight locks upon her head, to run his fingers through their silky strands.
He shook his head to clear it. This would not do. He could not be practically undressing Lady Phoebe in the middle of a drawing room with her aunt and his own sister present.
“Your father was a scholar of sorts, was he not?” Viola asked, prompting conversation, and Jeffrey thanked the heavens that at the very least his sister was astute.
Lady Phoebe smiled and shrugged slightly. “I do not think he could be called a scholar,” she said, a wistful look crossing her face as she remembered her parents. “But he was certainly a curious man.”
“And your mother, what was she like?”
“Viola,” Jeffrey cut in. “Perhaps Lady Phoebe—”
“It’s fine,” she said with a quick wave of her hand. “It is lovely to speak of them. My mother was an intelligent woman in her own right, though not in the same vein as my father. She did help him, however. She loved to write, and while he would concentrate on his studies, she would take notes for him. Somewhere in this house we have journals full of his thoughts, written in her hand.”
“How fascinating!” Viola said, leaning forward slightly. “I would love to see them sometime.”
At that, Phoebe’s smile dropped so slightly that Jeffrey wasn’t sure anyone else noticed. But clearly, those works were private.
Viola’s gaze continued to wander around the room, before finally coming to rest on the table in front of them. Phoebe was apparently taking note as well, for suddenly she leaped into action.
“I am so sorry! Would anyone like tea? I completely forgot to pour.”
At their nods, she began to fill the cups and paused momentarily when Viola made another observation.
“Oh! You have a copy ofThe Women’s Weekly,” she said, pulling on a paper from the bottom of a stack of journals and newspapers. Somehow she must have seen the corner of it peeking out.
Jeffrey attempted to stifle the direction of the conversation. “Viola, I really do not think—”
“Itiswonderful, isn’t it?” Lady Aurelia asked, her face more animated than it had been since their arrival. Jeffrey had never actually read a copy of the publication besides the initial two articles, and nor did he intend to. No, his intention was to shut down the bloody thing, not discuss it over tea with Lady Phoebe, her aunt, and his sister.
“It is smart,” Lady Aurelia continued, “and witty, and is written for ladies of every station. I think it should be in the home of every woman, although that would be altogether impossible at the moment. But yes, I believe these women should be commended for having the courage to write what they believe in, to embolden women to speak for themselves and to have a voice.”
She paused to take a breath, and Phoebe cut in, “Aunt Aurelia, it is a wonderful publication, to be sure, but you are far too complimentary.”
“I must say,” Viola said with a cautious look at Jeffrey. “Iamenjoying it. And it’s true, it does appeal to all women. Why, I enjoy the fashion column as much as I love the column discussing a woman’s role in a marriage. And the advice columnist is so fun and witty. I do hope it continues.”
“Is there any reason why it wouldn’t?” Phoebe asked as she took a sip of tea.
Curiously, she hadn’t expressed her opinion. This was just the type of publication a woman with her ideals would celebrate. Perhaps after their previous conversation, she didn’t want to raise the matter.
“The reason itshouldn’tcontinue is that it contains articles which will disrupt the order of our society,” Jeffrey said, bringing his steepled index fingers to his chin.
“How so?” Phoebe asked, cocking her head, and all three women turned to look at him, discomforting him as they awaited his response.
“Well, if a woman is to wait to marry for love, or to pursue her own interests, then what will happen to families? Who will look after the households and all that reside within them?”
Phoebe’s lips twitched.
“You have never actually read an issue, have you?” she asked, her face emotionless.
“He read the first page of the first one,” Viola said, rolling her eyes. “But do not try to convince him that his opinion is incorrect. He is quite stubborn when it comes to issues such as this.”
Phoebe contemplated the both of them, looking from sister to brother and back again.
“Lady Viola,” she began. “You strike me as an intelligent woman, a practical one with a good head on her shoulders. Now, Lord Berkley. Would you force a woman such as your sister to marry against her will, to someone in whom she has no interest?”
“Of course not,” he said gruffly. “That is different.”
“How so?” Phoebe asked. “It is the very same. How you would wish for your sisters to be treated is how all women want to be treated. The only difference between the newspaper and others you might see or purchase is that this one is written with a woman reader in mind. It still reports on the news, on sporting events that women have the opportunity to attend. You should read a copy sometime.”