Page 40 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
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The cliff promenade was crowded with people despite a bitterly cold wind whipping up off the water. Holiday pleasure seekers and locals alike valiantly fought the gusts to walk the length and take in the view. The Marquess and his Lady had yet to decide on a tea room when they noticed a man with distinctly deformed facial features directly in their path. At first, he paid them no mind as he was in conversation with another man. But when he laid eyes on Henrietta, and something like recognition dawned, his casual glance quickly twisted his expression from open stare into a sneer. As he passed them, it worsened into a decidedly-threatening leer.
Henrietta felt fear gripping her. She had thought she would never see that man again, and then to find him in Scarborough was a shock indeed. Her thoughts of freedom seemed to disappear as quickly as they had appeared for apparently, she had not left everything, or everyone, behind her.
“Do you know that man?” the Marquess asked her in disbelief.
The rosy color drained from Henrietta’s cheeks. “Yes,” she replied faintly.
“How? Who is he? I am most put out by how he looked at you.”
She remained shaken. “He, he was once in my father’s employ. In our household. He was lately dismissed.”
“I should hope so. And why? Why was he dismissed? For leering at you?”
“In a sense, I suppose. He spoke out of turn and disrespectfully to me. My father became angry and dismissed him immediately.”
Ewan was clearly incensed as he shouted over the wind to speak to her. “I say, how dare he insult you!”
“He is gone, my Lord.”
“What disrespectful thing did he dare say to you, and in your father’s presence?”
“I,” she stammered, “I had acted foolishly and was arguing with the General, also foolishly, and Seth, I mean Mr. Booth, felt compelled to further add to my shame.”
“Was he false?”
“It hardly mattered. My father was so enraged at his disrespect that he was thrown out and gone within the hour.”
The Marquess, suddenly acutely aware of their public surroundings, their voices raised to battle the wind, and the sensitive nature of their conversation, looked around them for shelter.
They ducked into the cheery warmth of the Daisy Tea Room. A table by the window and a pot of hot tea proved a welcome respite.
“Cake?” the Marquess asked his wife, feeling his boiling from the previous tense blood cool a bit.
“You have to ask?” she replied impishly, feeling the color slowly returning to her wind-chapped cheeks.
Ewan nodded his request for cake to the serving girl. “I will not tolerate such insult directed at you, my Lady. Has he a history of such behavior?”
Henrietta shuddered to herself. A history of such behavior was an understatement. The man was a miscreant with no understanding of his station. With little love for women, he made no secret of his opinions. To him, they were merely objects to be displayed by their men. He believed Henrietta’s pursuit of knowledge and science was a disgrace to her sex, her father’s house, and to herself.
“He has a history of disliking a woman speaking her mind.”
“And you were speaking your mind to the General?”
“I was.”
“Thoughts,” he murmured as he sipped his tea, “expressed freely which sounded very much like opinions?”
“Indeed. Opinions unpopular with someone like Mr. Booth. You see? A woman’s opinions voiced without freedom become problematic. For everyone. Hence ‘twould seem they are better left unvoiced. Unfree.”
She did not regret anything she said to her father. She did regret that it was said in front of Seth Booth. At least around him, her opinions were much better left unsaid. This reality gave her pause to again wonder about her new husband. Could she trust him? She could not be sure. Not yet.
“Unfree?” the Marquess queried. “Not a word, my Lady.”
“’Tis a word, my Lord.”
“No,” he insisted.
