Keeping secrets from them, doing things behind their back, lying to them, pretending that they knew what was best for them.
But many men just simply believed they knew what was best for a woman, without bothering to ask them what they thought or taking their own wishes into account.
Her husband, she knew all too well, was unique.
Will was completely singular.
It was why she had married him with haste without fear.
She didn’t know if Kit would prove as wonderful as William. Kit was several years younger and not as experienced or as staid.
And Maggie… Until this moment, she had not shown the audacity that Beatrice had had in her interactions with the male sex.
“Margaret,” she said softly, unwilling to let her cousin throw everything away on a whim. Though Margaret did not appear to be acting on impulse. “Don’t do something that you’ll regret. You love him.”
Maggie grew very still. She did not look away or flinch. Something deep had shifted within her.
She drew in a long, shuddering breath. “I do love him. But my entire world has changed. I have changed. Beatrice, I cannot ignore the way my life could change on a whim of a man. What if Kit does something like Father did? Am I a buoy in a man’s sea, floating wherever he takes me?”
“It is the risk all ladies take when they marry,” Beatrice said gently.
“Then I shan’t marry,” Maggie gritted. “I must find my own way for now. I must find who I am without a man. As you did all your life until the duke.”
Beatrice let out a sigh, wishing she could rail at fate. Wishing she could tell Maggie she was entirely wrong, but who was she to contradict her? Beatrice had spent her whole life seeking independence.
Yes, she’d had a guardian who’d had ultimate control of her funds, but she had never allowed her uncle to act as her father.
She had to try hard facts. Reality to persuade her cousin and not philosophy. “If you don’t marry and your father is ruined, you are ruined. It is why I married…”
“William?” Margaret put in. “You married him because you feared being poor?”
“If you do not fear being poor,” Beatrice said firmly, “you know nothing of what poverty is like. You and I have led privileged, lucky lives, Margaret. You do not wish to be impoverished.”
“Perhaps I do,” Margaret bluffed, though fear shone in her eyes. “Perhaps I wish to see.”
“No,” she countered, unyielding. “You don’t. And if you wish to see, I will take you to the East of London right now, where you could see how ladies live. You will not like it.”
Margaret flinched.
“Women do not have many resources,” Beatrice continued, determined to make Margaret understand the potential dangers of her choice. “Margaret, you can read. You can sing. You can play the pianoforte. You can embroider, and you have very good conversation. Unfortunately, that only secures you for two roles: that of mistress and that of wife. Perhaps you could become a lady’s maid or a tutor, if you wished.”
Margaret let out a bitter sound. “How could I be so foolish not to see as you have seen? Ladies have almost no choices.”
Beatrice’s heart ached for her cousin. How was this right or fair?
It was not. And she could not stand by and watch Maggie be tossed by fate. She reached a hand out to her. “Of course you have choices, my dear. I will take care of you. William has made certain that I have a great deal of money, and I won’t make you marry Kit to secure your own future. You will not have to make that choice.”
“Can William forgive you, though, if I break Kit’s heart?” she asked, her voice so low it was barely audible.
That sentence struck her like a blow.
Would Will forgive her?
It seemed like a terrible cruelty to use his funds to break Kit’s heart. And yet, how could she force Maggie to choose as she’d had to? Though she would not regret marrying Will for the world.
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I chose to marry William because it was the right thing for me to do. If I did not, everything that I had worked for would be over; it would be done. But that is not your life, Margaret, and I can offer you help. If you wish that help and you need it, of course I shall give it to you.”
“Then I will write Kit, and I will tell him that I cannot marry him at present,” Margaret rushed, determined in her decision. “Until I know myself better. Because, Beatrice…I no longer do.”