For some odd reason, Mr. Byron remained with Mary. He did not say much anymore. He merely kept his eyes on the dance floor.

Mary thought he might be avoiding lady Hayes, which she could understand. Would not everyone avoid that woman and her parents?

Anyhow, Mary secretly hoped Mr. Byron would ask for a dance, but so far, he had not. But if he would, she would not know how to answer. She had not danced with many men. Truly, she had only danced with men her mother told her to dance with. So twould be odd if she accepted a dance from any other man. Yet with this man, she quite hoped he did.

But every time he opened his mouth, he spoke of something else.

"How is the lady of Hawthorne?" he asked after minutes of silence.

"She is quite well," Mary told him. "Very happy with her husband and three children."

"Three?" he asked surprised. "I had heard of only one."

Mary nodded. "Three boys, if you must know. The Hawthorne title is certainly ensured to continue."

"I did not need to know," Mr. Byron murmured.

"Yet you do," she responded. Then she turned around to face him. "Are you always this arrogant?"

"Are you always this blunt?"

"My mother says it is my charm." She did not. Not at all. But a little white lie never hurt anyone.

"It depends on what you call a charm," Mr. Byron responded.

Mary sighed and turned back to watch the dance floor. "Then what is it you see as a charm, Mr. Byron?"

"I have never really thought of it," he admitted. "Though I believe not many women have a true charm."

"Do your sisters have a charm?" She hoped he had more than one sister, for Mary did not know. He had said he was the second oldest, but the first male, meaning he had an older sister. But were his other three siblings male or female?

"Ada certainly does," he said. He leaned closer to her and told her: "she is my twin."

"Good for you," she responded sarcastically. "And what might her charm be?"

"She understands me."

"And that is a charm?" She turned to look at him, and his face showed he truly meant his words. "Are you such a complicated man that understanding you is considered a charm? Or are you merely quite full of yourself to think such thing?"

A self-righteous smile curled his lips. "Mayhap a little of both."

She rolled with her eyes before she turned away from him and watched the dancefloor again. This man was quite different from the men she was used to meat – or rather, avoid. But she quite liked the challenge this man provided.

"Should you not be out there?" he asked her. "Dancing with many men who wish to ask for your hand at the dance's end?"

Should you not as me? a small voice inside her asked. But she did not voice it, for that would be rather embarrassing. Instead she shook her head and said: "no, I should not. Men are quite frightened of my bluntness, so they have stopped asking."

"And here I thought you would tell me you were already married."

She looked up at him. "Why would you think that? Do you not think me childish and arrogant?"

He shrugged. "Mayhap you were kinder before marriage."

Surprised, she turned her full body to face him. "You see me capable of being married?"

"You do not look like this is your first season, my lady. I believe that most women your age are already married. And those who are not, are widows."

"And what makes you think that my being unmarried is not a willing choice?"

"Then mayhap you have had your heart broken and you are waiting for the man to return and mend it."

She shook her head. "Can a woman not want to be unmarried?"

A sneer escaped his mouth. "Every woman wants marriage."

Again, she rolled her eyes and turned away from him. "Men are so shallow," she sighed.

He let out a mocking laughter. "I believe women are shallow."

"I beg to differ," Mary defended.

"All women want are pretty gowns and the newest bonnets," he told her.

"And all men want are lovers," Mary simply said. "That does not give them more depth than a woman. In fact, I believe you have listed two obsessions for women, while I can find only one for men."

"You have forgotten good drinks," he defended.

"As you have forgotten pleasant dancing."

"Friends," Mr. Byron simply said.

"Family," Mary shot back.

"Good food."

"Kindness."

"Some men love nice clothing."

"All women love children."

"Status."

"If you say so yourself," Mary stopped the listing. She turned to him. "And thus it is proven: men are shallow."

With an all-knowing smile, she gave him a quick curtsy before she turned around and walked away. Eli Byron was very handsome and seemed quite odd – which was good, in her opinion. But he was even more shallow than most men. And that was truly a reason to rid him as soon as possible.

"Are you saying men do not like their families?" Mary startled when she heard Mr. Byron's voice behind her. Apparently he had felt the need to follow her and prove to her that men were the stronger sex – but Mary would not have it.

"Are you saying women do not have friends?"

Mr. Byron sighed. "You are impossible."

"No, I am showing you that this world does not revolve around men. The very own leader of our country is a woman, if you have forgotten." For once, Mary was happy with the useless conversation she had had with Joseph a few days ago. For once, his stupid chatter had actually been helpful.

"Yes, long live the queen," he said unenthusiastically. "But who truly runs the country? Not the queen, is it. She merely says what she is supposed to say from her male advisors."

"Are you saying that our queen is not a good ruler? That you do not appreciate her work for this country, merely because she is a woman?"

"I did not say I do not appreciate her work. Nor is she a bad ruler. All I am saying, is that I believe she has this good image, because men are helping her."

Mary turned her eyes into slits and stared at the man. She could not understand how a person could think such a thing. Had the queen not proven herself worthy of a queen? Was she not an extraordinary woman who had the future of all of England in her hands? Did she not do the work just as well – or even better – than her uncle, the previous king of England?

After feeling like she had let the silence between her and Mr. Byron linger on long enough, she strategically asked him: "now who is shallow?"

Then she turned away and tried walking away from him. She had made it to the door that let to the gardens of the Birmingham's estate before Mr. Byron was able to catch up. As he followed her down the stairs and onto the grass, he asked: "are you implying that women are better than men?"

"Are you implying the opposite?" she retorted.

He did not respond and remained quiet for a few minutes. Mary was aware of his footsteps following her, even if she made a sharp turn in an effort to shake him off. He followed her to the end of the garden, where a large fountain was build. Twas gorgeous, yet reminded Mary of a simple bath because she wanted to climb in it and clean herself.

Mr. Byron came to stand next to her and turned to her. His hands were behind his back and he looked very professional. She turned to look at him, waiting for his next words.

"Why do we not test it," he suggested.

"Test what?" Mary asked, not understanding what he was talking about.

"Test who is better. Men or women?"

She looked at him and considered his words. Twas very attractive to agree with the test. She did not doubt the outcome of it, for she was not like a woman Mr. Byron expected.

But then she thought of what other people might think – her mother mostly. She would have a faint if she realized what her youngest daughter was doing. Challenging a men – lord or otherwise – was not something a proper lady ought to do. Even if that lady came out of an odd family.

Men then she rethought that thought. What did it bother her what other people thought about her? She already had the reputation of being childish. Surely a challenge would be considered the same. Twould only confirm their suspicion and not become a big scandal.

And her mother, that was easily solved. What she did not know, she could not faint about.

"Very well," Mary told him and noticed the surprise that crossed his eyes. "I accept your challenge. But I only agree with the result if we chose the tests equally. I have a say in this as much as you do."

He lifted his chin, thinking of her words. It must be hard for a man to be seen as the equal of a woman. But if he wanted to take the challenge and be able to tell his friends and family of the result, he needed her word of agreement. And that would not be possible if they do not have an equal say in it.

Finally he nodded his head. "Very well. But I too have a condition."

Mary looked at him, worried about what male argument he might throw in the conversation now. But when she raised her eyebrows in question, he said: "I am to call you Mary, not lady Brompton."

"What it is, Mr. Byron? Jealous of my title?"

He tilted his head and ignored her question. "Do you agree or not?"

She sighed dramatically. "Very well, you may call me Mary. But do not be surprised that I call you Eli."

"I did not expect anything different," he said with a smug smile. He lifted his hand. Mary looked at it, before she took it and shook it, sealing their challenge.

Now it was time for Mary to break his golden man-bubble and prove how much better women were.