Page 2 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
“I’ve read it before,” she said. “It’s mostly on the mark, I would think. But…”
“But?”
“Franklin is an idiot about women.”
Cass frowned. “There’s no mention of women. At least not in the chapter on moral improvement.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m afraid my mind, wrecked by endless nights of debauchery, cannot follow you so quickly. How can a man who says nothing about women be an idiot about them?”
“Now, are you paying attention.” She heaved a sigh and squared her shoulders. “Everyone, but Franklin apparently, knows the best way to reform a rake is to have him fall in love. I’ve told you this before.”
“I thought in jest.”
She grunted. “Hardly. Improving programs, lists, and the like—they are good for creating wholesome habits, with which to replace the debaucherous habits.”
“Debaucherous? Not a word.”
“Do refrain from being contrary, dear Cassius.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Lola pinned Cass with steely eyes. “As I was saying, improving plans create good habits and good habits are, well, good. Butlove… love transforms a person. It gives you confidence you did not have before, in yourself and in your place in the world. And that will sustain those good habits better than a list ever could.”
“So, I fall in love with any woman and that’s that? I’m no longer a villain?”
“I suspect it has to be the right woman, Cassius.”
“Can’t I just tup her?”
Lola sighed, heavy and long. “I’ve told you about saying things just for scandal’s sake.”
“It’s annoying.”
“Very. And you should only speak truth.”
“You sound like Benjamin Franklin.”
“Heaven forbid.”
Cass glanced toward the window once more. But no matter how often he looked, he could not join the family playing in the garden. They were a family who loved one another, full of laughter, teasing, confidence, freedom.
He’d thrown his own family away, abused them with every action and word since he’d come of age. And why? Because he’d been jealous of his brother, a brother who loved him, a brother who’d likely never forgive him.
If only he could make it right.
Cass felt like he’d swallowed a knotted cravat. A mass of immovable, tangled emotion, hopelessness, sat heavy in his throat. No matter how many swallows he tried, it would not be moved.
He breathed past it and let it remain, tracing a pattern into the arm of the chair with a lazily moving finger. “And who is the right woman? And how am I to find her? And how am I to know once I do find her?”
“That, I’m afraid, only you can know.”
He shook his head. Impossible. He’d killed any finer sensibilities, the ones that would sense such a thing, too long ago. Love like Lola spoke of wavered out of his reach. But… “Why look for a woman to love? Why not a woman toteach?” It would be much easier to find a woman who knew the rules, was an already virtuous woman to help him live by Franklin’s ideals. “Yes! I need to find a woman who knows all the things I do not know and who can keep me focused on my moral studies. Women are, after all, morally superior to men.”
“Stuff and nonsense! What you describe sounds like a governess, not a wife.”
A governess, or something like. Yes. Exactly what he needed.
