Kissing Hadrian St. Claire, however, required no imagination at all. Thinking of what the press of those firm lips upon hers might feel like, she felt a wave of warmth roll through her in spite of the sharp air.
Thoroughly ashamed, she reached up to check that her veil was still in place. "Not a thing. It's only that our Harriet is a very serious sort and prefers those about her to behave in kind."
"Be serious, so that's the way to win over the old harridan. But what I'd much rather hear is the way to win
you
over. I don't suppose you've any hints in that department, hmm?"
"Oh, Teddy, you have won me--as a
friend,"
Callie said, not bothering to keep the exasperation from her voice for as many times as he'd asked her to be his wife, she still wished she might give him a different answer.
In spite of his garish clothes and effete ways, Teddy was in so many ways the perfect companion, steady and uncomplicated and, she suspected, easily as lonely as she was. Most importantly, he didn't have a cruel bone in his body. And though she suspected what he liked most about involvement in the suffragist cause was that his participation in it irked his straight-laced father to no end, his support of her was as ungrudging as it was unconditional.
As always, he took her refusal with good grace. "Then as a
friend,
I trust you'll allow me to see you home before you catch your death." Turning serious, he added, "Really old girl, you look fit to drop, and Harriet can manage without our help, mine especially."
Relieved to have the awkward moment past, she allowed herself to be persuaded. "In that case, yes."
She hooked her arm through his and together they walked out to the street corner where in short time Teddy hailed a hansom. Leaning back against the cracked leather seat, Callie let her eyes drift closed, vaguely aware of him giving the driver her directions and settling a carriage blanket across her lap.
"You're so good to me, Teddy," she said, yawning into her glove, even as the part of her that could never quite settle down to contentment demanded that surely there must be more to life than that.
Unbidden, an image of warm blue eyes pushed to the forefront of her thoughts, joined in short order by a fine strong nose, molded jaw glistening with a hint of golden stubble, and a firm, masculine mouth.
Oh, Callie. Always wanting more, hasn't that ever been your fatal failing?
She forced her attention back to Teddy, settled into the seat across from her. Gazing into his dear, plain face, she chided herself for acting the part of a perfect idiot.
Steady, uncomplicated, and kind--what more could there possibly be?
CHAPTER TWO
"A
free
man is a noble being; a
free
woman is a contemptible being. Freedom for a man is emancipation from degrading conditions which prevent the expansion of his soul into godlike grandeur and nobility, which it is assumed is his natural tendency in freedom. Freedom for a woman is, on the contrary, escape from those necessary restraining conditions which prevent the sinking of her soul into degradation and vice, which it is all unconsciously assumed is her natural tendency."
--V ICTORIA W OODHULL and T ENNESSEE C LAFLIN,
Woodhull & Claflin's Weekly,
1871
L ater that evening Hadrian stood at his washstand, scouring the silver nitrate solution from his hands. Drying in his studio's dark room were the photographs of the medical anomaly. Looking past the misshapen features to the man's eyes, Hadrian had felt an eerie kinship. Reflected in their dark depths was the very same expression he'd seen when he'd peered into his shaving mirror to bathe the dried blood from his throat.
Hunted, didn't he know just how that felt?
While he'd processed the pictures, he'd reviewed his options for raising the five hundred pounds needed to settle his debt with Boyle. Short of robbing a bank, the only possibility he could come up with was to ask his barrister friend, Gavin Carmichael for another loan. When he'd shown up on
Thoroughly ashamed, she reached up to check that her veil was still in place. "Not a thing. It's only that our Harriet is a very serious sort and prefers those about her to behave in kind."
"Be serious, so that's the way to win over the old harridan. But what I'd much rather hear is the way to win
you
over. I don't suppose you've any hints in that department, hmm?"
"Oh, Teddy, you have won me--as a
friend,"
Callie said, not bothering to keep the exasperation from her voice for as many times as he'd asked her to be his wife, she still wished she might give him a different answer.
In spite of his garish clothes and effete ways, Teddy was in so many ways the perfect companion, steady and uncomplicated and, she suspected, easily as lonely as she was. Most importantly, he didn't have a cruel bone in his body. And though she suspected what he liked most about involvement in the suffragist cause was that his participation in it irked his straight-laced father to no end, his support of her was as ungrudging as it was unconditional.
As always, he took her refusal with good grace. "Then as a
friend,
I trust you'll allow me to see you home before you catch your death." Turning serious, he added, "Really old girl, you look fit to drop, and Harriet can manage without our help, mine especially."
Relieved to have the awkward moment past, she allowed herself to be persuaded. "In that case, yes."
She hooked her arm through his and together they walked out to the street corner where in short time Teddy hailed a hansom. Leaning back against the cracked leather seat, Callie let her eyes drift closed, vaguely aware of him giving the driver her directions and settling a carriage blanket across her lap.
"You're so good to me, Teddy," she said, yawning into her glove, even as the part of her that could never quite settle down to contentment demanded that surely there must be more to life than that.
Unbidden, an image of warm blue eyes pushed to the forefront of her thoughts, joined in short order by a fine strong nose, molded jaw glistening with a hint of golden stubble, and a firm, masculine mouth.
Oh, Callie. Always wanting more, hasn't that ever been your fatal failing?
She forced her attention back to Teddy, settled into the seat across from her. Gazing into his dear, plain face, she chided herself for acting the part of a perfect idiot.
Steady, uncomplicated, and kind--what more could there possibly be?
CHAPTER TWO
"A
free
man is a noble being; a
free
woman is a contemptible being. Freedom for a man is emancipation from degrading conditions which prevent the expansion of his soul into godlike grandeur and nobility, which it is assumed is his natural tendency in freedom. Freedom for a woman is, on the contrary, escape from those necessary restraining conditions which prevent the sinking of her soul into degradation and vice, which it is all unconsciously assumed is her natural tendency."
--V ICTORIA W OODHULL and T ENNESSEE C LAFLIN,
Woodhull & Claflin's Weekly,
1871
L ater that evening Hadrian stood at his washstand, scouring the silver nitrate solution from his hands. Drying in his studio's dark room were the photographs of the medical anomaly. Looking past the misshapen features to the man's eyes, Hadrian had felt an eerie kinship. Reflected in their dark depths was the very same expression he'd seen when he'd peered into his shaving mirror to bathe the dried blood from his throat.
Hunted, didn't he know just how that felt?
While he'd processed the pictures, he'd reviewed his options for raising the five hundred pounds needed to settle his debt with Boyle. Short of robbing a bank, the only possibility he could come up with was to ask his barrister friend, Gavin Carmichael for another loan. When he'd shown up on
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