“I find it curious that you would be hurt by the fact that I would prefer you in more clothing then less. Most women would be thrilled to know that I’d prefer to see them for who they are and not the shape of their flesh.” Gracefully shrugging his shoulders, a movement that seemed to come easily and lazy, he smiled quietly at her.

“Think about it for a moment. If you were surrounded by naked men all the time, does not a clothed one hold more interest to you, simply, if nothing else, because he is different to everyone else? That you could imagine what he may look like then having it shoved in your face?”

“No, perhaps not.” He considers that and her, sobering such thoughts.

Jacques begins to walk through the apartment towards the door. Fingering the key in his pocket, he paused in front of the door to look over his shoulder at her. “Try and keep out of trouble and our paths might cross again.”

“Good day, Bridget.” And with that, the handsome young aristocrat left with the click of a lock behind him.

*To the closed door she finally finds the words she wanted to tell him* But...I...I'm not different. *Lowering her head, glad the other two aren't around to see this, she allows a tear to roll down her perfect cheek. She waits a minute just in case he comes back before disappearing into her room to dive head long into one of her books, they always made her feel better*