She turned it over in her mind. “It’s more like fear than embarrassment. Fear that you won’t think I’m a lady anymore.”
He propped himself up above her on his forearm, clearly delighted. It occurred to her that he must have picked up everything he knew about being gentry through observation. He had never been able to ask anyone directly before. “Ladies have bodies like other women,”he said.
"Yes…”She couldn’t think how to explain it. “It’s as if…as if one is trying to avoid reminding men that one is like other women. Men don’t always treat women very well.”
She’d worked at being easy to love too. She’d made her father love her, and her brother—or at least it had felt that way. She’d made this town like her. It seemed sad, somehow; she wondered whether other people were loved naturally, without trying, even when they were difficult and useless. Whether she could have been, too.