“Fascinating reading?” he inquired, stretching his long legs as much as the confines allowed.
“Mmm,” Eleanor replied without looking up, turning a page.
Damien tilted his head to read the spine of her book, his eyebrows rising with interest. “Wollstonecraft’sVindication? How delightfully radical of you, Duchess. Planning to overthrow the established order during our little excursion?”
“I brought it for the journey,” Eleanor said curtly, still not meeting his gaze. “Some of us believe in improving our minds during travel.”
“Are you suggesting I lack intellectual curiosity? I’m deeply offended.” Damien’s tone was all wounded innocence.
The carriage swayed gently around a curve, and Eleanor finally looked up, her blue eyes holding amusement. “You’re many things, but intellectually lacking isn’t one of them. However, your curiosity seems to run toward more practical matters.”
“Such as?”
“Gaming halls. Brothels. The sorts of establishments that cater to masculine appetites rather than masculine minds.”
Damien laughed. “How refreshingly blunt. Though I confess, some of my most illuminating conversations have occurred in supposedly disreputable places. You’d be amazed what philosophers can be found among London’s alleged degenerates.”
“Philosophers?” Eleanor’s tone suggested she found this highly unlikely, even as she shifted slightly to face him more directly.
“Oh yes. Just last week I encountered a former Oxford don in a Whitechapel gaming house, engaged in the most fascinating discourse on Aristotelian ethics while calculating card odds.” Damien leaned forward as much as the swaying carriage allowed. “He argued quite convincingly that strategic deception in games of chance represents a higher form of truth-telling.”
Eleanor’s lips twitched despite her obvious efforts to remain stern. “You’re making that up.”
“Am I? What makes you certain? Perhaps your sheltered existence has simply failed to expose you to the full spectrum of human intellectual achievement.”
“Sheltered?” Eleanor closed her book, using her finger to mark her place. “I’ll have you know I’ve had quite extensive experience with human nature through my charitable work.”
The carriage hit a small rut, jolting them both slightly. Damien used the moment to adjust his position, noting how Eleanor’s eyes followed his movement with interest.
“Ah yes, your hospital. Tell me, do you personally interview each patient about their philosophical leanings? Or do you simply assume that poverty precludes profound thinking?”
Eleanor’s eyes flashed with something that looked like annoyance and delight all at once. “I assume nothing. But I’ve noticed that men who frequent brothels rarely engage the women there in discussions of Wollstonecraft’s theories on female education.”
“How do you know? Have you conducted extensive interviews with such women?”
“I know as much as you presume to know me.”
“Is that so?” Damien grinned triumphantly. “You’re making assumptions about my presumptions. Rather unscientific for someone reading treatises on rational thinking.”
Eleanor regarded him with narrowed eyes. “You’re attempting to goad me into defending a position I haven’t actually taken.”
“Is it working?”
“Perhaps.” She leaned back against the plush upholstery, studying him with renewed interest. “Very well. What profound philosophical insights have you gleaned from London’s underworld?”
The gentle rocking motion of the carriage seemed to encourage more intimate conversation, and Damien found himself speaking more seriously than he’d intended. “That desperation makes people remarkably honest about their motivations. Strip away social pretenses, remove financialsecurity, and you discover what people truly value. It’s quite illuminating.”
“And what do they value?”
“Survival, primarily. But also dignity, surprisingly often. I’ve seen women in the direst circumstances refuse certain clients because they maintained standards. Men who could barely afford food sharing their last coins with someone worse off.” He paused, studying her face as it was briefly illuminated by sunlight streaming through the window. “It rather challenges one’s assumptions about moral behavior being the exclusive domain of the well-bred.”
Eleanor was quiet for a moment, her mind clearly working through his words as the countryside continued to roll past. “You’re suggesting that virtue exists independent of social station, which I’ve always believed.”
“I’m suggesting that virtue might be more common among those who’ve actually been tested by hardship.”
“A dangerous philosophy for a duke to embrace,” Eleanor observed, shifting as the carriage took a turn. “It rather undermines the entire foundation of aristocratic privilege.”
“Does it? Or does it simply suggest privilege carries greater responsibility precisely because it hasn’t been tested?” Damien leaned forward, careful not to touch her knees with his in the confined space. “What do you think, Eleanor? In your charitable work, have you found the poor to be more or less moral than their betters?”