Page 8 of The Widow's Scandalous Gentleman
“And what of my establishment here?” Thalia asked quietly, though she suspected she already knew the answer to her question and dreaded having her fears confirmed through her brother’s gleeful explanation of his carefully laid plans.
“Naturally, such inappropriate arrangements would cease immediately upon your marriage, for no respectable husband could be expected to tolerate his wife’s involvement in such questionable endeavours,” Marcus replied with the sort of casual dismissal that revealed his complete indifference to the years of work and planning that had gone into creating the sanctuary she had built for her residents.
“I see,” Thalia murmured, her voice betraying none of the despair that threatened to overwhelm her as she contemplated the destruction of everything she had worked to achieve, along with the abandonment of the individuals who depended upon her establishment for both shelter and encouragement in their artistic pursuits.
“I trust you appreciate the generosity of Mr Templeton’s offer,” Marcus continued, clearly expecting some expression of gratitude for what he saw as a chance to redeem herself, “for not every gentleman would be so magnanimous as to overlook the reputational damage you may have incurred through your association with persons of questionable character and uncertain morality.”
Lord Jasper cleared his throat with the sort of polite attention that indicated he wished to contribute something to the conversation, and both siblings turned toward him with expressions that reflected their very different expectations regarding what perspective he might offer on the situation that had been so thoroughly outlined by Marcus’s comprehensive presentation.
“If I might venture an observation,” Lord Jasper began with careful diplomacy, “I fear there may be some misunderstanding regarding the nature of Lady Greaves’s establishment and the character of the individuals who reside here under her care and guidance.”
“Misunderstanding?” Marcus’s eyebrows rose with the sort of sceptical attention that suggested he found it unlikely that a gentleman of Lord Jasper’s sophistication could be deceived by whatever false impressions his sister might have attempted to create regarding her questionable household arrangements.
“Indeed, for I have spent the morning observing the daily activities of the residents and examining samples of the artistic work being produced under Lady Greaves’s supervision,” Lord Jasper explained. “I can state with complete confidence that this establishment represents everything that is admirable about artistic patronage and charitable endeavour, conducted with a level of moral propriety and administrative excellence that would be remarkable in any context.”
Marcus blinked with surprise at this unexpected defence of his sister’s enterprise, clearly unprepared for testimony that contradicted the negative reports that had formed the foundation of his carefully constructed case against her independence and judgment.
“You find nothing irregular about ungoverned ladies presiding over households that include male residents?” he asked, with a pointedness that implied any man of sound judgement would acknowledge the inherent impropriety of sucharrangements—whatever veneer of respectability might be employed to conceal their true nature.
“I find an establishment governed by the highest standards of decorum,” Lord Jasper replied, his voice calm, unwavering. “A place of purpose, in which individuals of genuine talent are offered sanctuary and encouragement. What I have witnessed here today is not disorder, but discipline—directed by a hostess whose character and judgement are beyond reproach.”
Thalia felt the familiar weight of defence lift—if only slightly—as his words settled in the space between them. Gratitude rose in her throat with sudden force, though she willed her expression to remain composed. She had grown too accustomed to opposition to expect understanding, let alone such a public, unprompted defence.
“I confess myself surprised by your assessment,” Marcus said with discomfort at having his assumptions challenged by someone whose social position made it impossible to dismiss his opinions as the misguided sympathy of someone easily deceived by feminine manipulation, “though I wonder if a single morning’s observation provides sufficient foundation for such comprehensive conclusions regarding the long-term viability and propriety of such unusual arrangements.”
“Perhaps not,” Lord Jasper acknowledged with the sort of gracious concession that allowed Marcus to preserve some dignity while maintaining his own position, “though I would suggest that any evaluation of Lady Greaves’s establishment should take into account the tangible evidence of success that I have witnessed today, rather than relying solely upon the speculation and prejudice that seem to characterise the reports you have received from distant observers.”
“Speculation and prejudice?” Marcus’s colour rose at the implied criticism of his sources and their motives, though he appeared uncertain how to respond to such a direct challenge from someone whose rank and social connections made it inadvisable to express open disagreement with his assessment.
“I speak only of my own observations,” Lord Jasper replied with diplomatic tact, “though I would venture to suggest that firsthand experience provides a more reliable foundation for judgment than secondhand reports from individuals who may lack sufficient familiarity with the actual circumstances they presume to evaluate.”
The challenge hung in the air between the two gentlemen like smoke from a poorly managed fire, and Thalia found herself holding her breath as she waited to see how her brother would respond to such a carefully worded but unmistakable criticism of his entire approach to addressing what he viewed as the problem of her independence.
“Nevertheless,” Marcus said with the sort of stubborn determination that had characterised his approach to family disagreements since childhood, “I remain convinced that the current arrangements are unsuitable for a lady of my sister’sstation, and I believe that marriage to Mr Templeton represents the most appropriate solution to the difficulties that her current circumstances have created.”
“Have you consulted Lady Greaves regarding her own preferences in this matter?” Lord Jasper inquired with the sort of deceptive mildness that often preceded devastating revelations of logical inconsistency in an opponent’s position.
“Consulted her?” Marcus laughed with genuine amusement at what he clearly viewed as an absurd suggestion. “My dear Lord Jasper, surely you understand that ladies of breeding are rarely the best judges of their own interests in matters of such consequence, for their natural sensibilities and limited experience of the world make them prone to romantic notions that may conflict with practical necessity.”
“I see,” Lord Jasper murmured, his tone suggesting that he found Marcus’s perspective both enlightening and somewhat disturbing, though he maintained the sort of polite attention that encouraged further elaboration of such revealing attitudes.
“Indeed,” Marcus continued, with the complacent satisfaction of a man convinced of the unassailable logic of his own position, “for it is painfully clear that my sister’s judgment has deteriorated since she has been left to her own devices. I am persuaded that the influence of a sensible husband will restore the stability and proper perspective her present independence has unfortunately eroded.”
Thalia felt her anger rise with the slow, searing inevitability of molten iron poured into a mould—controlled, but impossible to contain. She held her expression steady, her posture serene, even as his words struck with the brutal familiarity of a well-worn insult.
How many times had she endured such condescension—draped in civility, delivered with affection—as though it were a kindness to dismiss her intellect, her vision, her autonomy? Her late husband had spoken in much the same manner: fond, indulgent, and utterly assured that her highest calling was to ornament his life without ever challenging it.
“Marcus,” she said with the sort of carefully controlled precision that served as both warning and final opportunity for him to reconsider his approach, “I fear you have failed to appreciate several important aspects of my current situation that may affect your assessment of what would constitute appropriate solutions to problems that exist primarily in your own imagination.”
“Problems in my imagination?” Marcus’s voice rose, affronted, as though the very suggestion of exaggeration were a personal insult. “My dear sister, I have received detailed accounts from multiple sources regarding the questionable nature of this enterprise and the damage it threatens to inflict upon our family’s name.”
Thalia tilted her head slightly—a measured movement, not of curiosity but of quiet exasperation—as she repeated the question he had so notably avoided answering the first time.
“Detailed accounts from whom, precisely?”
She spoke with the same unflinching directness that had served her well in confronting evasive men who cloaked their motives in generalities and unsubstantiated claims.
Marcus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearly reluctant to identify his sources of information in a manner that might allow their credibility and motives to be examined more closely.
