Chapter Thirteen

H eloise cursed herself silently as she watched Peter knot his cravat, his beautiful mouth folded into a frown. She had gotten carried away with all their talk of philosophy and ascribed to him a like-minded understanding and fellowship that obviously didn't exist. That, or she simply enjoyed kissing him so much that she had exaggerated those qualities in her mind. Another romantic pitfall for her notebook.

"You find marriage objectionable?" Peter had taken a seat at the table. Suddenly exhausted, Heloise fell into a chair beside him.

"Would you not object to your own subjugation? Would you welcome the erasure of your personhood?" Peter's hair was charmingly mussed, and she noted with annoyance that she longed to smooth it out.

"Perhaps that is the strictest interpretation, but—"

"One party is given legal recourse to make decisions, conduct business, issue punishment, and exercise complete control over the life of the other. What other interpretation could there be?"

Peter frowned, and Heloise's stomach gave a sickening twist. She had the premonition that something she had always dreaded, something she had wisely organized her life to avoid, was now coming to pass.

"Not every man desires such an arrangement," Peter said. "Were I to marry, I would seek equality in my partnership."

"You might as well pick up a knife and use it to write love letters. Why choose marriage if not to live by its provisions?"

"To make a legal union. To be bound together in the eyes of God and my fellow man. To offer protection and support to my partner."

Heloise fought to keep from rolling her eyes. "Yes, if I marry, I gain those things, at the expense of my self-determination. My husband could insult me, starve me, beat me, and I would have no recourse.

"You insist on imagining the direst scenarios! I would never do any of those things."

"But you would be within your rights." Heloise was mortified to hear her voice rising as blood rushed to her face. "You think husbands have not done worse?"

Peter looked sad and for one ridiculous moment, Heloise felt sorry for him. She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, forcing a friendlier tone.

"Come, you know how to debate," she said. "You make only vague, lofty arguments, and dismiss my very practical grievances. You must present a case for marriage, not simply suggest that the inequality inherent in the institution might be gotten around."

Peter sat back and let his hands dangle between his knees. Even now, she could not help but admire him; the cut of his shoulders, the narrow hips, the long, lean legs. Her mind might advise caution, but it seemed her body would not heed it. Peter met her eyes, his expression defeated.

"I cannot make a case for it," he admitted. "I simply have faith that marriage can be a happy union, based on love and mutual respect."

"Should I trust my life to faith?" She couldn't mask the disappointment in her voice. Peter made no reply, and she knew she should end the conversation. But her good sense seemed to desert her when it came to him.

"If you were a woman, would you marry?" she asked, trying a different tact.

"I would, if I—"

"Stop." She held out her hand. "Take a moment before you answer."

To his credit, Peter sat back and closed his eyes. She admired his thick lashes, the cheekbones with their almost invisible dusting of freckles.

"You cannot earn a living," she said. "You cannot sign a contract. You cannot gain custody of your children. Everything you own, including your body and the issue from it, belongs to your husband."

His face grew troubled, one corner of his mouth twisting down.

"How can you be equal to the man who holds your life in his hands?"

Peter opened his eyes, and they were pretty as ever, deep brown with a darker ring around the irises, full of warmth and intelligence.

"Would you wish this upon the woman you love?" She tried not to sound like she was begging.

"I don't know."

He looked miserable, and Heloise felt the last of her foolish hope evaporate. "Never mind." She stood up and stretched in an attempt to seem casual. "I concede it's an unorthodox position."

Peter rose, his face full of empty, useless sentiment. "Heloise—"

"I feel like a walk. Perhaps I'll see you later. Good afternoon." Her chest hurt, and she couldn't bear to hear whatever he might say. She left the library quickly, knowing that if he called to her, she would fall back into his arms despite it all.