“You realize this will cause more talk, do you not?”
“Talk happens with or without the situation to warrant it,” Rowles returned.
“Indeed. However, consider your actions and be cautious.” Morgan’s words were clipped, and Rowles had the distinct feeling of being chastised.
“I will be circumspect in every way.”
“See that you are, and don’t be out long. Thankfully, it’s not the social hour, far too early for the park to be busy.”
“I’ll avoid the commonly used paths, if you’d like.”
“Which would only create greater suspicion, as if you didn’t wish to be seen.” Morgan’s tone bordered on hostility.
“What would you have me do, Morgan?” Rowles asked in frustration.
“Make it quick and be about your business.” He leaned forward on his desk. “Forgive me, I’m trying to protect my sister. Rowles, she’s all I have, and I won’t see her reputation or chances at a match hazarded by your misguided sense of chivalry and busybodies coming to the wrong conclusions.”
“I understand.” And he did. In this, Rowles couldn’t fault his friend. He was doing what he should to protect his sister.
Rowles stood, studying his friend. “I’ll be cautious, and no damage to her reputation will come at my hands.”
“Thank you.” Morgan’s shoulders sagged as if bearing a weight he couldn’t fully shake.
Rowles left the study and made his way to the front step of the house, awaiting Joan. A few minutes later, the door opened. Joan stepped into the sunshine with a maid close behind.
“Shall we?” Rowles gestured to the cobbled road before them.
Joan nodded and started down the stairs. He stepped quickly to catch up with her. The town houses lined the street with stone grandeur, silent sentinels with watchful eyes. One was never truly alone in London due to far too many windows and even more wagging tongues. Rowles turned from the scenery to study her.
Joan’s eyes were fixed ahead, her hands grasping the fabric of her skirt tightly. Was she nervous? Whatever it was, she felt ill at ease if her posture were any indication. He wished to dispel any tension, but he was unsure how to begin.
Taking a breath, he started to speak only to find she had come to the same conclusion and tried to speak as well.
He gestured for her to go first.
“No, please,” Joan replied.
“Very well,” Rowles began. “I believe you’re frustrated with me, and if you misunderstood my words last night, you’d have rightful cause.” He turned his attention ahead.
When she didn’t say anything, he turned and met her curious expression.
“I’m not sure if I was more frustrated with you or myself, Your Grace.”
“Rowles,” he said, almost instinctively. The title still didn’t feel comfortable.
She nodded. “Rowles.” Her lips dimpled. He was struck by the way his name sounded on her tongue, by how much it pleased him and how much he wished to hear her say it again.
“I never meant to imply that it was justifiable for society to be unfair in the constraints against women. For miscommunicating that, I apologize. It wasn’t until later that I reconsidered how I made my point in our discussion and recognized how it could be interpreted.”
“I jumped to a conclusion that was also unfair. For that,Iapologize,” Joan offered, meeting his look with a contrite expression. “It’s a subject that’s close to my heart, and I was probably oversensitive.” She turned her attention to the ground.
“Oversensitive?” Rowles shook his head. “Not at all. It’s a subject close to your heart, clearly, and also one that isn’t given as much credit as deserved.”
“Truly?” Her expression became painfully hopeful.
What would it be like to be at the mercy of society because of gender, he wondered. “Truly. Now, your brother tells me you’re part of a women’s society?” he asked, hoping she’d trust him enough to talk freely.
Joan studied him for a moment. “Indeed, and as my brother is the one who informed you, he also conveyed his displeasure.”