A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)

She never did hear that suggestion in its entirety. Bel crouched, grabbed Toby’s walking stick, and came up swinging. She smacked the oaf in the head with its blunt ivory knob, and he slumped to the ground with a thud, unconscious.

Bel yelled at him anyway. “I’m speaking to my husband, you … you … Oh, you’re not worth it.” She held the stick aloft and turned to Toby. “You were right. It does come in handy.”

“Yes.” A burst of laughter escaped him. “Yes, it does.”

She looked around at the other armed men, who had all lowered their weapons, seemingly bereft at the loss of their leader. Then she looked back down at the unconscious brute. “Did I truly just do that?”

“Yes, you did,” Toby said, coming forward wearing a smile handsome enough for the devil.

“And it was magnificent.” He took the walking stick from her hand and let it fall to the ground before folding her into his arms. “My God, Isabel, I—”

“No, wait!” She pushed away from him. “Toby, I came here to talk to you.”

“By all means,” he said, still smiling. “I’m listening.”

“I came here to say that I…”

He nodded encouragingly. “That you …?”

“That I’m so angry at you!”

His face shuttered. “Oh.” He shifted his weight, flicking a self-conscious gaze sideways.

“That’s what you’ve come all this way to say? That you’re angry at me?”

“Yes,” she said, her hands balling into fists. “Yes. You need to know. You need to see me for who I truly am. I”—she jabbed a finger in her chest—“am a woman who gets angry.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. How could you? I didn’t see it until just today. I’m not selfless, Toby. I’m certainly no angel. And I can’t be mad. Didn’t you tell me, if you’re aware that you’re mad, you’re not mad?”

He nodded.

“Then I can’t be insane. What I am is angry. I get angry, all the time, in the most useless ways. I get angry at things I can’t hope to correct, like injustice and violence and oppression. I get angry at things years in the past—at my brothers for leaving me to grow up alone, at my poor dead father for being an intemperate lecher, and at my poor dead mother just for going mad. I get angry when people make fun of the old and infirm. I go positively livid when I see a maltreated child.”

“I understand,” he said, stepping toward her.

“No, you don’t,” she insisted, tears stinging her eyes. “You couldn’t possibly understand. You’ve always been happy, always been so loved. You can’t know what it’s like, to see people in pain and feel that suffering, all tangled up with your own. To need some way to channel all that anger into something good … or you’ll simply go mad with it.”

He stretched out a hand. “Darling, please. Let me—”

“And you,” she said, ignoring his hand and leveling a finger at him. “When women flirt with you, I get so angry I could stick them with pins. When men point guns at you, I get so angry I’ll club them with sticks.”

The oaf at her feet began to moan and stir.

“Be quiet,” she told him, “or I’ll do it again.” To Toby she asked, “What did he want, anyway?”

Toby tilted his head and regarded the crumpled figure. “He wanted me to withdraw my candidacy.”

“Oh!” A wild giggle bubbled up from her chest. “That’s what I meant to ask of you, too.” She tapped the man’s shoulder with the toe of her boot. “So sorry.”

“I can’t withdraw my candidacy,” Toby said, frowning, “or Colonel Montague will win.”

“So?” Bel asked.

“So … he’s ancient, deaf, and insane.” Toby crossed his arms. “I can’t allow it to happen, in good conscience. Besides, isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted a husband in Parliament.”

“I wanted you,” she blurted out. Her hand went to her throat. “I wanted you, from the very first moment I saw you. I’ve been pushing you into all these political and charitable roles ever since, so I could pretend I had some nobler cause in mind. But I didn’t. I just wanted you.”

“Isabel …” He came toward her again, arms open.

“No.” She stayed him with an open palm. “I’m not done being angry yet.”

“Oh.” His arms fell. “All right. I’ll just… wait for you to do the embracing, then.”

“That would be best.” She sniffed. “Toby, of all the things and people I’m angry at, I’m most angry at you. I trusted you, and you lied to me. And I understand why you did it, and I can even forgive you … but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. So I’m angry at you for lying, but I’m angrier still at how deeply you’ve made me care.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and she dabbed at them impatiently. “You made me love you, Toby, so much I could hate you for it.” She smothered a sob with her palm. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

“The part about love?” he asked.