Striking Gold

5. Hotheads

Hilda dried herself off, leaving her blonde hair slightly mangled from the water. She dressed and walked back home, enjoying the sights of Willowbrook's growing town.

She loved it here. How could Mother send her away?

It's not right, nor is it fair!

All Hilda did was stand up to an ignorant fool with his head shoved up his arse, and she got in trouble?

Where's the justice?

The country might fall under the control of a woman, a queen; mind you, but it's still the sodding men who run the show.

It's the men whose minds are stuck in the days of the many King Georges. Was it not Elizabeth I who was called Gloriana and Good Queen Bess?

Was it not glorious to be in women's reigns as rulers of the lands they ruled over?

Sultan Suleiman might have been the Magnificent, but he married Roxelana Hürrem Sultan. Many Chinese Emperors honour their birth and adoptive mothers, some receiving posthumous titles, names, and ranks. In contrast, others became Empress Dowagers, with the emperors giving their primary wives the title of Empress, setting them apart from their concubines!

Behind every great man is an even greater woman, after all. Her father attests to that, at least, but with the way her mother behaved as of late, Hilda would argue he's blinded by ardent love rather than the evidence that stands before him.

"Miss Montague!"

Blasted bloody... Gah!

When will he give up?

"What now?" Hilda sneers as the 'gentleman' rushes to face her.

Hilda noticed Henry's light brown hair had turned almost black when soaked by the water. His clothes stuck to his lanky body like tree sap on bark.

"I hardly think it's fair to blame me for you ruining your own life," Henry starts, catching his breath as he has been running to catch up with her.

Hilda scoffs, "I think it is. Your insistence on pushing me, especially last night, has now put me at odds with my mother and has me practically shipped off to London, where I will be forced to behave like something I detest!"

"I cannot see what last night has to do with you going to London. Would it be good for you to behave like a lady? Yes, it would. How can you find a husband if you act like a hellion?" Henry says, waving his arm at Hilda's current state.

Hilda raised a brow, giving a piercing stare that could cut deeply like the blade of a guillotine. "Maybe I don't want a husband?"

"You could use one. A husband to tame you and make you a gentler, more tolerable woman than the shrew that you currently are!"

Hilda stomps towards him and slaps him across his face, hers filled with anger. "Would a shrew hit you like that?"

Henry clasped his reddening cheek, then scowled, and an idea came to mind.

'She wants to play, fine. I'll play,' Henry thought before his scowl became a mischievous grin.

With deliberate slowness, he stepped closer, towering just slightly over her. "Oh, my mistake," he said, voice low and teasing. "Clearly, I underestimated you, Hilda. No husband could handle you." He leaned in a little closer, his grin growing wider.

"Something we agree on. What a shock!" Hilda sardonically gasps before turning on her lace-up boots and walking away.

"Better a nunnery or asylum for you, spinster!"

Hilda stopped, exhaled through her nose, and turned back, running towards him and raising her arm to hit him again, only for Henry to swiftly grab her wrist before her hand contacted his face. He pulled her body dangerously close to his, their noses mere inches from touching, as he leaned in and whispered, "Careful, Miss Montague. Any closer, and I might get the wrong idea."