#her dad would have his patootie carted off to the nearest p.rison ship

[curseconsumed]

'This isn't you.'

from here.

( From: Benjamin Tallmadge to Clara / melpomeneprose )

"What isn't me?" Clara asked, her chin stiff with annoyance. "With all due respect, Mr. Bolton, you seem under the impression that womenfolk are forthright in our mannerisms -- that we haven't developed a universal need to conceal our true desires, for fear of losing inheritance and marriage proposals." Her lips curled into a simper. "Not that I'm overly concerned, of course. I'm not so sure I want to be tied to the same clotpole day in and day out. "

Irritably, she flicked open her fan, cooling herself amidst the back gardens. "Even so, I find it puzzling how after only a fortnight of acquaintance, you seem to think you know precisely how I would or should behave." Clara sneered, her green eyes glittering. "In my experience, a man only presumes so much once he's gotten inside my mutton. What's your excuse, hmm? What makes you believe you know me?"

In truth, Clara was perplexed by John's behavior. There had been a man h.anged earlier in C.hatham S.quare -- a beastly r.ebel, at that -- so she couldn't even begin to understand why Mr. Bolton seemed so displeased with her attendance.

"It was a h.anging, not a scandal," she coolly said, deciding to cut off any further speculation. "The man committed t.reason against the Crown. You've claimed to be a staunch l.oyalist, sir, so speak true: are you so green that you'll recoil at the sight of necessary bloodshed?"