Page 19 of The Scholar’s Spy

“No?”

“You danced with two other females, but did not seem to linger. I believe there were many young ladies vastly disappointed by your ‘poor show’.” Abigail quoted Miss Guthrie’s words, and smiled at Mr. O’Sullivan to show she did not hold much stock with such sentiments.

“I went to the card room.”

“Did you win anything?”

Mr. O’Sullivan shot her look, which Abigail was not able to read. Did he mean to look scalding or surprised? She studied him and then decided she would simply ask, “Am I being badly behaved? Should women not ask about gambling?”

To her delight, he shrugged. “You can ask me whatever you please, and I would not dream of thinking you capable of bad behavior.”

“My sister thinks I am liable for creating a scandal.” She started walking toward the cliffs, seeing no reason they should dally and not make straight for their normal fossil hunting. There had been enough rain in recent days, which should make the finding of curios easier.

“Why?”

A woman better at flirting would have turned it back at Mr. O’Sullivan twisting it somehow for her advantage, but Abigail doubted her abilities in that regard, so she said something that was still true but not quite what Judith had meant. “She thinks I do not care for society’s rules.”

“You do not.”

It was not a question, and Abigail was pleased he was able to know her well enough for that. “There are always some great niceties that I forget or when I remember them, I simply think them seem silly to me.”

“Would you extend that theory onto all laws that our society holds onto?”

“I am not certain,” she said. “There are a great many rules that govern women which are not applied to men in the same way.”

“I did refer to either men or women.”

There were a great many rules that she was supposed to obey, indeed all women were if they had any hope of being deemed ladies, but it did not seem as if Mr. O’Sullivan was alluding to that. Could he mean a more metaphysical ruling—say something religious? Some, as Miss Costigan had mentioned, disliked fossils because they thought it undermined their religion. Some people seemed to think that the study of history undercut the belief in God. Could Mr. O’Sullivan be alluding to that? They had discussed these matters previously, so it might well be a topic he wished to return to.

Abigail frowned, trying to pinpoint what he might be referring to. It would, she reasoned, be far simpler if he just said what he meant. It was on the tip of her tongue to say this, but she bit it back. There were things she wished to say to him, where subtlety would be better than simply demanding her wants. “Without knowing the specifics,” she said, “rules which hold us in place too strictly will of course be broken, it is inevitable. I think a great many rules are mere foolishness.”

“Why are you so certain, Miss Fossey? What if those rules are in place for a good reason? A moral one, that if society was robbed of this guidance, it would be worse off.” His face was growing redder, and he seemed actually annoyed.

“Of course, if a person or a structure…” She trailed off, trying to work out what Mr. O’Sullivan was referring to. “I think you must admit, unless a society is perfect, it would be likely to succumb to the temptation of rule breaking.”

“Even if it is an edict,” he said.

She turned, which led them away from the beach itself, and along a more scenic pathway.

“Of course. Why else would we build prisons?” she said. They had had many such discussions over the weeks, so perhaps this was yet another he wished to have. Although there was something oddly heated in his gaze at this moment. Hastily, she continued. “We build them with the expectation of rules being broken, surely?”

When Abigail realized that Mr. O’Sullivan had not followed her, she turned back, the dawn light faded now the sun was shining around him, creating a pleasing tableau. Yet the man did not seem remotely satisfied with her answer. In fact, he looked furious.

How much Abigail wished to say, ‘Unless I know precisely what you mean, how can I answer?’ Yet he did not give her enough time to form those words.

“I suppose you would at least frown on any activities that meant the culprit ended up in one of those prisons you mentioned?” Mr. O’Sullivan asked.

“Are you scared I would judge a friend of yours who has been convicted?” Abigail asked.

Her reaction caused Mr. O’Sullivan to kick out at the nearest array of rocks, sending them flying in all directions. He strode over to her, snatching up Abigail’s free hand and locked eyes with her, until Abigail could not look away.

“I want to know most keenly if I can trust you.”

“You can, sir.”

“And that your morals mean that you would not hesitate to report a crime if you were aware it was taking place.”

“Do you believe there is some criminality—”