Unclaimed (Turner, #2)

“A debate?” Mark asked. “For the MCB?” He didn’t particularly like the idea of the MCB. He disliked the secret hand signals, the cockades. He especially didn’t like the handbooks that the founder was selling for tuppence. The whole thing smacked of exploitation, and Jedidiah Pruwett had attached Mark’s name to it. “You want me to join a debate?”


His displeasure must have come across in his tone, because Tolliver wilted further. Mark wanted to kick himself. It wasn’t this youth he objected to, it was—

“You’re right,” Tolliver said, dispirited. “I hadn’t given the matter any thought. Who, after all could possibly take the other side from you? It’s not as if you could debate chastity, after all.”

This, said glumly, cast a pallor on the waiting crowd.

“Come now,” Mark said. “It’s not so bad as that. There are plenty of—” He shut his mouth again, before he came up with a justification for the debate and the MCB.

“Plenty of what?”

“Plenty of arguments one could make at a debate,” said a voice to his right. Mark felt a tingle travel down his spine. He turned slowly to see Mrs. Farleigh at the edge of the crowd. Nobody moved to let her through.

Tolliver frowned. “Such as?”

She shrugged, nonchalantly. “Well. I shouldn’t know them. But a hypothetical debate might say something about an organization that privileges the wearing of ribbons and armbands over any actions that had meaning.”

Mark couldn’t argue with that. “Go on.”

She met his eyes. “And I suppose someone—not me, of course—might even take to task a moral system that rigidly emphasizes adherence to a few select principles, without any attempt at considering the relative value of those principles in individual circumstances.”

Tolliver frowned. “What sort of individual circumstances could you mean? If it’s right, it’s right. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong.” He shrugged. “What’s to argue?”

“Oh, certainly. I could not make such an argument. But a skilled debater might ask what one would do if one were forced to choose between saving an innocent child’s life or engaging in unchaste behavior.”

Tolliver’s frown deepened, and he rubbed his chin.

“This is, after all, the choice that some unfortunate women are put to—sell their bodies, or see their children starve.”

Tolliver’s eyes grew round, and his mouth screwed up. Had nobody ever posed him a basic moral dilemma before?

“I— That is—” He glanced over at Sir Mark in supplication. “I’m sure that’s wrong, because…because…”

Mark took pity on him. “Yes,” he said briskly. “It’s the old ‘tupping for kittens’ argument. I hear that one a lot.”

She choked. “Tupping for which?”

“Kittens. It usually goes like this—suppose that a madman has sixteen precious, innocent kittens in a sack. He threatens to throw them all in the river to drown unless I engage in intercourse with some woman, who is agreeable. What do I do?”

Mrs. Farleigh stared at him. “What do you do?”

“Assuming those are my two choices—tup, or the kittens shuffle off this mortal coil—well, it’s simple. My moral code is not so rigid that I would let innocents suffer.”

“But—”

“I would also tell lies, strike another man in the stomach and blow my nose in the Queen’s presence. All for the benefit of kittens.”

“Lucky kittens,” Mrs. Farleigh managed. She was doing a poor job of suppressing a smile. Around her, the crowd shifted in confusion. Mark wanted to see her laugh.

“I admit there are some times when chastity is not the right answer. You see? You have me there. In most circumstances, though, there are no kittens. No madmen. There’s just a choice to make, and a simple one at that. One mustn’t justify day-to-day morality with extraordinary circumstances. Otherwise, we would all feel free to rape and murder at the drop of a cat.”

Stunned silence reigned. But he’d won. The corners of Mrs. Farleigh’s mouth curved up. “You’ve convinced me,” she said. “No debate is possible.”

She was mocking him with that. It had been a long time since someone had questioned him. It had been a very long time since he’d had this much fun.

“In any event,” she added, “if one wants to save kittens, I suppose it’s more effective to beat the madman into smithereens.”

“Still, if I’m ever faced with the prospect,” he said casually, “I’ll think of you.”

Her eyes widened in shock. In fact, everyone’s eyes widened in shock.

Had he really just said…? Oh, yes. Yes, he had. In front of everyone. He could feel his cheeks heating.

Mrs. Farleigh was the first to recover. “Don’t,” she replied solemnly. “Impending kitten death would ruin the atmosphere. Besides, you’ve convinced me. Your moral code seems not just flexible—in fact, it might be a bit floppy.”