“Wonderful news!” Joyous laughter exploded from him as he caught her up and spun in place, hugging her tightly as they whirled. “I knew they would love it and make a generous offer. I knew it!”
She clung to him, her laughter flowing over him and thrilling him even more. “It is not the money that thrills me. It’s my name on the title page—written by Lady Fortuity Abarough Ravenglass. I have waited so very long for this dream to come true.”
His heart lurched, and he went still, gently lowering her feet to the floor. “You changed your name on the title page to include Ravenglass?”
She shyly twitched a shrug. “I am your wife. Am I not?” Then a shadow of uncertainty fell across her. “Did you not wish me to use your name? Would you rather no one knew it was your wife writing such romances?”
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “I am honored you changed the title page to include our family name, and never would I ever be ashamed of you.” It troubled him, the speed with which her doubts about him had returned. He had prayed they were past that. Apparently, those prayers had yet to be answered. “I adore you, Fortuity. What will it take to convince you my love for you is genuine? That I do not regret our marriage?”
She eyed him with a seriousness he found most unnerving. “Time, I suppose.” She glanced down at the unopened letter she still held, then wilted in front of his very eyes as she handed it to him. “From the Duchess of Esterton. Letter number four.”
He took it from her, ripped it in half, and tossed it into the hearth, before taking her by the hand and leading her to the small writing desk in the parlor’s corner. “Shall we accept their offer of seven hundred pounds, or do you wish to negotiate for more?”
“Negotiate for more?” she squeaked. “We wouldn’t dare. That would be…ungrateful.”
“The decision is yours, my love, but make haste. Their messenger is waiting for your reply.” He tapped on the writing desk before going to the bellpull and giving it a hard yank.
Thebson immediately appeared in the doorway.
“Champagne, my good man. By the time you return with it, we shall have a response for the waiting messenger.”
The butler nodded. “Right away, my lord.”
“Champagne, Matthew?” Fortuity paused with her quill in midair.
“Absolutely, my love.” He moved behind her and hugged her back against his chest, keeping his arms tight around her waist as he peered over her shoulder. “It is the glorious first of many celebrations of your novels, I am sure.” He nibbled at the soft skin beneath her ear and whispered, “After you finish your response for the messenger, shall we take the champagne upstairs to our bedroom?”
“In the middle of the afternoon? During receiving hours?”
“Hang the time,” he murmured while continuing a trail of kisses along her neck, then pushed her gown aside to kiss the curve of her shoulder. “I want to celebrate my wife’s accomplishment with champagne and more research into what techniques make her moan the loudest and keep her the most breathless.” He peered over her shoulder and down at the paper in front of her. “You have yet to write anything, my love. Think of that poor messenger waiting on the steps.”
She cleared her throat as she bent forward, dipped her quill into the ink, then started scratching out her reply.
Being ever so careful, so as not to cause her a writing mishap, Matthew slid his hands down to her hips and held her in place as he pressed into the softness of her delectable rump. “Do you feel how ardently I wish to celebrate with you?”
She cleared her throat again and swayed back, wiggling her bum against him. “Indeed,my lord.”
“The only thing preventing me from taking you here and now, my tempting vixen, is that you have yet to finish your task.” Still pressed up behind her, he cupped one of her breasts and gently squeezed. “Well,thatand the champagne should be here soon.”
“My lord,” she teased in a husky tone that excited him even more, “you are making it most difficult to concentrate and phrase my response properly.”
Matthew stepped back just as the butler reached the door, pushing a cart with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “Do forgive me, Thebson, but might you be able to take that upstairs? My wife and I have decided to retire to our private sitting room to celebrate. If anyone calls, do be good enough to inform them we are not receiving today.”
Without so much as blinking in surprise, the servant nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”
“Oh, and Thebson…” Fortuity darted across the room and handed the man a note. “Please give this to the awaiting messenger.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Once the man had disappeared to accomplish his tasks, Matthew swept Fortuity up into his arms and headed toward the stairs. “Come, my lovely wife—we have celebrations and affirmations to attend to.”
“Affirmations?”
“Yes, my darling. This afternoon, I intend to love away every doubt about us you have ever entertained.”
Chapter Twelve
“Good afternoon, LadyFortuity,” the shopkeeper sang out from behind the counter.
