Page 23 of An Honorable Arrangement
"What do you think, Mr. Witman?" Sarah asked.
He'd never given much thought to the notion of women voting. He shrugged. "I don't see why a woman as informed as you shouldn't be able to vote, but most women would have little notion of who or what to vote for."
"I think you could say the same about most men, sir."
He laughed. "You're probably right."
"Do you think we shall see women voting in my lifetime?" Her pretty eyes narrowed.
"I think it is unlikely, Miss Sommers," he admitted.
"I wish you were wrong, both of you." Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.
Mrs. Pratt went back to her sewing. "Perhaps you might marry someone with whom you can debate the ways of the world, and in that way, you might influence his vote."
The idea of spending evenings in debate with a witty, bright woman sounded better than it should. After all, until this odd trip, he'd never even thought about marriage beyond some chore he'd have to do some day. But as he looked across at Sarah Sommers, the notion of those debates was more and more attractive.
"I suppose that will have to do if I ever marry," she conceded.
Mrs. Pratt hummed a few notes. "I think that handsome Captain Phillips would be pleased to marry you."
Monty's gut twisted. He liked the captain, but he'd be damned if he’d stand by and watch another man with Sarah. Suddenly, getting to Willoughby Castle and speaking with his uncle seemed more urgent.
Just before dark, they arrived at the quaint Hearth and Home Inn. Mrs. Pratt went inside to see about the room she'd share with Sarah, but Sarah said she wanted to stretch her legs. She walked to the edge of the narrow yard and looked out over the meadow.
Monty followed Sarah. "What are you thinking?"
Pulling off her bonnet allowed her hair to flow freely down her back. A light breeze caught a few wisps. "It's lovely here, and I wish I didn't have to go to Sussex."
He stepped so he could see her face as the setting sun bathed her in golden light. "My uncle and aunt are good people. Besides, I doubt you will be with them long."
Head cocked, she looked at him. "Why do you say that? Do you think they will send me away to some other stranger?"
Stepping closer, he ran his knuckles along her soft jaw. He couldn't tell if she was disappointed or relieved. "No. I think you are too lovely for some man not to marry in no time at all."
"I highly doubt that." She made a very unladylike scoffing sound and returned her attention to the meadow's winter browns and grays. "Or are you in agreement with Mrs. Pratt that the captain will be sending an offer?"
Searing fury burned a hole inside Monty. "I would not care for you to be married to Captain Phillips."
"Why ever not?" She studied him.
"As much as I admire and feel indebted to the captain, I should not like to have him whisk you away to some military post where you will give him a dozen children." The more visions he conjured, the angrier he became.
"What an absurd notion. In any event, I shan't marry Captain Phillips, though I cannot imagine why you should care." She put her bonnet back on as the temperature was dropping with the sun.
"Can you not? I should think my reasons for not wishing you a happy marriage to the captain were obvious." He danced around the point in hope of gleaning her feelings.
The breeze picked up, and Sarah pulled her overcoat tighter around herself.
"Shall we get out of the cold, Sarah?" Monty longed for a day when she would tell him all the things going on in that mind of hers.
With a nod, she turned on her heels and stormed toward the inn.
Monty moved quickly to open the door for her.
Music poured from within. They found several local musicians playing a lively tune and Mrs. Pratt, still in her travel clothes, clapping along.
"What's happening, Mary?" Sarah grinned and shed her overcoat.
