Free Leslie LaFoy by Come What May

that being a British subject under common law entitles them to representation in Parliament. To be denied representation is to be denied one of the most basic rights of an Englishman.”
    Not only did she understand the basic complaints of his fellow colonists, she understood them well. She was a hoyden to the marrow, but she was obviously an exceptionally intelligent one. The combination of traits didn't particularly bode well, though. Especially for a man quite used to being the master of all he surveyed. At that moment he felt a suffering kinship with George Seaton-Smythe. It was an unsettling feeling.
    “How did I do?” she asked.
    “Quite well,” he had to admit. “I'm impressed.”
    “As I intended for you to be,” she allowed, her eyes bright and her grin impish. Sobering only slightly, she added, “Discussing political philosophy is ever so much more interesting than needlepointing pillows.”
    “You might be surprised to discover that colonial women are more politically aware than their British sisters,” he ventured, hoping it was true. By and large, however, he knew they weren't any more formally educated. Custom on that point was one of the few things that hadn't been changed on the journey across the ocean. Which made Claire Curran a decidedly odd duck on both sides of it. If she wasn't willing to pretend to be a normal female, his salon was going to be a cold and silent place. He didn't even want to think of the social ridicule
he'd
have to endure once the House of Burgesses actually convened.
    “I certainly hope so,” he heard her say. “It would be a welcome change to have an intelligent conversation without having to don a pair of breeches to achieve it.”
    Hadn't they just had a conversation that qualified as such? Wasn't she wearing a dress? Even as he framed the questions, he saw the answers. Beneath her skirt she wasstill wearing her boy's clothing. And more importantly, he hadn't contributed one word to the discourse beyond prodding and daring her to expound. How—and at what point—had he lost control of the exchange?
    “Speaking of breeches,” he began, desperately grasping at the chance to reassert his authority, “you will surrender your boy's costume to me when we reach Rosewind.”
    She arched a brow. “I will not,” she declared, her tone implying that the very idea of doing so was the most ludicrous thing anyone had ever suggested. “If you want my breeches, you'll have to physically remove them from my person. And be forewarned. I won't give them up without a struggle.”
    She'd fight him? Oh, Jesus. He wasn't the least bit amused by the notion. Stirred, yes, but not at all amused. In fact, the idea of taking her to the floor and removing her clothing was so strongly appealing that it was altogether frightening. But he'd taken the step and was mandated by pride to see the journey through. “Do you think you have any chance of winning the contest?”
    “Maybe. Maybe not,” she replied with a quick shrug. “But if I should lose, I will at least make you pay a price for your victory.”
    “And what—other than making me angry—would be the point of that, madam?”
    “Remembering the battle,” she quipped, “might give you pause the next time it occurs to you to play the imperial lord.”
    “By law, I
am
your lord,” Devon reminded her.
    “And why should I feel compelled to respect and obey a law in which I, as a female, had no voice? Colonial men aren't the only ones denied the basic rights granted Englishmen under common law.”
    It was a most outrageous, preposterous extension of the Natural Rights doctrine that he'd ever heard. To extend the rights of free men to women?
Women
? He wasbeginning to understand why her uncle had sent her off into the world of men. In addition to being stubborn and willful, she was also a most unnatural woman. Seaton-Smythe had probably considered banishing her the only way to preserve what few positive aspects there were to his