"Hormones," Delaney snickered. "Well, they're very different from the other "whore moans" people would accuse me of." She laughed merrily, pleased with her little joke. "You are, of course, right. Doesn't Nature understand by now that we've evolved enough not to need most of these silly biological imperatives? I mean really. We are not apes. Or worse, muggles."
Delaney's ire was rising, thinking about the exchange. "Yes, he really did," she said, beginning to fume. "And honestly, I'm not crazy about my son being born out of wedlock either, but at least I'm not charging around just assuming Flint or Warrington are going to marry me, simply because I got knocked up. As I said, we've evolved past all that nonsense, or most of it anyway. And in the time you've known me, you must have gained a picture of me in your head - do you really think I'm the kind of woman who would willingly kowtow to that kind of bollocks?"
Because she bloody well wasn't. Delaney was many things, a lot of them unsavory, a lot of them perceived as antisocial, but none of them was weak. She was an independent woman, always had been, and intended to be so for as long as possible. If need be, she could raise this baby herself and give him the best of everything, the best that a child could ever want. And, more to the point, she had no intention of repeating her own mother's attitude toward her young.
"I bloody well hope he isn't Warrington's," she said vehemently. "I mean, he shags like a dream, but he's clearly far too bossy and overbearing for my liking. If he had asked me nicely, after finding out the child was his, then I might have considered it, but for him to just act like I had no choice in the matter, that he had spoken and that was the end of it - I wanted to knee him in the knackers and ensure that he NEVER reproduced again."