Chapters (46)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Back Cover
Ten
Joan woke up with a pounding headache and the lingering suspicion that maybe her temper had got the best of her…again. Maybe she had put too much faith in the duke too soon, or maybe she had completely misunderstood his meaning, but whatever the reason, she had retreated behind a wall and now she found herself stuck. Because it wasn’t as if she could pay a social call to him. And if he didn’t want to clarify or continue the discussion, they would be at a stalemate.
And she didn’t want that.
Because, well, she liked the Duke of Westmore. He was intelligent and appreciated her keen mind—or at least she had thought he did. Maybe he enjoyed the novelty of discussing and debating with a woman occasionally, only to excuse society’s social and law restrictions on women because it didn’t affect their value. She closed her eyes and lay back on her pillow. As she thought over it, the point he’d made wasn’t terrible.
But she’d, well, wanted him to champion the cause, not excuse the reason it needed to exist. But in truth, she could have misunderstood so much. Yet it was too late now, and only time would decide if the rift between them was something that could be mended.
She glanced to the clock. The women’s society would be meeting again in two hours, which meant she needed to get up, get dressed, and send a footman to hire a hack. The women’s society met in Lady Sandra Bookman’s parlor, nearly twenty minutes away. They had met yesterday as well, but since next week’s meeting had to be canceled because Lady Sandra would be out of town, they had voted to do back-to-back meetings.
In short order, Joan had accomplished all that needed to be done and was stepping into her hired hack with the arranged chaperone. The mist and smoke swirled around Hyde Park as they passed by and went deeper into the center of London. The stone buildings blurred together till the carriage halted in front of Lady Sandra’s home. The widow of a wealthy merchant, she had used her funds to establish a meeting place for women to discuss and act on possible ways to enrich and establish women’s lives and freedoms.
They were finishing up their second read-through of Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Women. And a lively discussion would indeed follow today’s assigned chapters. Sure enough, as Joan entered into the house and started toward the parlor, she could already hear the raised and enthusiastic voices of her peers. The room was filled with familiar faces, save one. The room held chairs enough for all of them in a circle, and Joan selected a seat next to Lady Sandra.
“We are discussing the concept in the chapter regarding women’s need for education reform,” Lady Sandra whispered to her.