Arthur was astonished and he could tell by the twinkle that lit in her eyes that it showed.
“I did not take the money,” she whispered and he loved his sense that they were allied together. She frowned a little. “Though I did count that your sum was correct.”
Of course, she had. Arthur found himself grinning as he took the bag she carried.
“But is it?” he countered, securing the bag beneath the seat where it would be out of the rain. He guessed that it contained the sole copy of the book in question.
“I can count well enough…”
“But I made an addition this morning.”
She looked at him. “That was why you did not return home last night.”
“It was only part of the reason.” He raised a finger. “I was not cavorting.”
Patience did not smile. “Are you certain the funds are safe there?”
“Of course. Safer than in my chamber, where a servant might expect to find money unattended.” He touched her cheek. “It is as safe in your care as in the bank.”
“Thank you for your trust.”
“I have never met anyone more trustworthy,” he said, for it was true.
“Arthur, I owe you an apology,” she said quietly.
“And I owe you a greater one.” He turned and gestured to the carriage, his confidence growing with every passing moment. “Let me make it.”
“You did not bring the coach, despite the rain,” she said.
“As you have noted previously, servants all have ears, and I would not have the driver and two footmen knowing the location of our savings or the intended destination of those funds.” He smiled at her, noting that she could not hide her pleasure. “Only you will be privy to the confession of my secret, Patience.”
“That hidden sum is your winnings, is it not?”
“It is the fund for our shared venture,” he corrected, watching her lips part in awe. “And it was a secret from everyone until you found it.”
“They are winnings, not savings,” she said sternly as he handed her up. “You might lose the amount twice over the next time you play.”
Arthur shook his head. “I play only so long as I win, and I leave the table when I lose.” He cast his cloak over her shoulders, protecting her from the rain that might gain momentum before they reached home.
“But it is gambling,” she insisted when he sat beside her. “You cannot be so certain…”
“It is mathematics,” Arthur said with crisp authority, taking the reins in hand. He slanted her a glance, noting how she watched him. “I have been playing since our betrothal to win the funds we will need for our venture. Good fortune has smiled upon me, as if Providence itself would support your scheme. But let me start at the beginning.”
“Please do,” she replied and he turned the team away from Berkley Square, taking a quiet road so they could talk.
* * *
Patience could not complain,despite the rain. Arthur had sought her out, he had correctly guessed her destination, and now he would surrender a secret. She yearned to ask him questions but instead knew it was better to listen.
“Last night,” he said finally. “I visited my solicitor to ask his counsel with regard to printers and publishers. Are you familiar with Fanshawe & Parke?”
“Of course! My father was saddened by Mr. Parke’s demise last year.”
“Friends?”
“I would consider them acquaintances. I know they liked to talk at auctions and such. Why?”
“Mr. Fanshawe seeks a new partner to ensure the continuation of his firm. I have requested a meeting, contingent upon your view.”
