“You are a fiend,” Prudence said and Patience scolded her even as Arthur grinned.
“I meant his son, of course.”
“He has a son?” Prudence demanded.
“But on further consideration, he is a handsome and diligent man of responsibility, almost as old as me.” Arthur shook his head. “You would not like him at all.”
“I will come to the shop,” Prudence declared. “I will come every day until you introduce me to him.” Truly, she reminded him of Amelia in her determination to have her way.
Then someone somewhere shouted that a wretched cat had claimed the fish’s tail.
Patience and Arthur exchanged a knowing glance. “Catrame,” he said with assurance, certain he had not enjoyed an afternoon more. “The better thief, although he shares.”
“If he mouses in exchange, Mrs. Frobisher will ensure he has his fill.”
The afternoon culminated with the arrival of Taylor and Gellis in the baron’s coach, the vehicle packed with Patience and Arthur’s clothes, and the new bookcase, as well as Patience’s books. Gellis herself rode with the coachman and a grinning Taylor hung onto the back between the footmen. There was much laughter as everything was unpacked and brought into the house, and Arthur smiled when Gellis dropped into a deep curtsey before Patience.
“Bless you, my lady,” she said with a broad smile. “Nothing will be right in that house soon and I could not be more glad to be away.” Her gaze slid to Taylor, who offered her a quick wink, and Arthur guessed there was a greater inducement to the move even than that.
They were then summoned to a very crowded dining room, and a table and sideboard burdened with food. He felt the cats winding their way around his ankles and held Patience’s hand fast within his own as everyone raised a glass to toast to their future welfare.
Patience had brought him everything he desired, and more.
* * *
It was latewhen a chattering Gellis finally left Patience alone. The room that had been her mother’s was still in some disarray, the bookcase still empty in one corner and books piled on the floor before it. The cats had chosen their perches in this smaller room and purred contentedly, their bellies full of fish. She could hear Arthur and Taylor in the adjoining room, and the occasional burst of male laughter, as well as the sounds of the others in the house.
Carruthers House was more than an abode. It was her home and she had not realized how much she loved it until she left. It was wonderful to be back.
She considered the book manuscript she had removed from the bag and set upon a table. She smiled, closed her eyes, and riffled through it to choose a page.
In the bedroom, in privacy with one’s lover, a lady can reveal her own urges as nowhere else in the world. Be bold in your caresses, and forthright in your demands. Instead of lying back and accepting whatsoever your partner deigns to offer, tell him what you wish of him. Make the first address. Touch him as you wish—or touch yourself as he watches. I have written of boldness before, but the combined power of audacity and surprise cannot be underestimated, nor can its ability to change the foundation of a relationship be overlooked…
Goodness. Did she dare?
Patience heard Taylor leaving the adjacent chamber. She barely had time to cast aside her robe before Arthur opened the door. She turned to face him, wearing only a welcoming smile, and watched a thrilling heat light his eyes. He murmured her name with reverence and crossed to her side more quickly than she might have believed possible. His kiss was more potent than ever it had been and there was a new and irresistible fire between them.
Audacity and surprise, indeed. This volume would be worth its weight in gold.
* * *
EPILOGUE
London in December was festive, with garlands of greenery hung over the shop windows and carolers in the streets. Patience and Arthur had chosen Saturday the twentieth for the launch of Mrs. Oliver’s book and the shop was bustling with enthusiastic customers. They also had the second volume of their Ladies’ Library, an edition ofThe Canterbury Taleswith numerous illustrations, for sale. Patience was initially gratified at how quickly Mrs. Oliver’s books were selling, then increasingly worried that they might sell out before the holidays. Arthur had invited many of his former acquaintances and their wives and sisters, and Patience could not have hoped for a better endorsement by the ton.
Mrs. Oliver had sent her regrets that morning, which was both disappointing and a relief. Patience did not like to say as much, but she could only think that some of the potential customers might have found it alarming to discover that such a wizened old lady was the source of intimate advice.
Everyone caught their breath as a singularly glamorous lady swept into the shop. Her red hair and brilliantly green eyes could not be mistaken for the features of anyone other than the beautiful Miss Esmeralda Ballantyne. A ducal coach awaited her outside the shop, which also could not influence trade badly.
She bought thirteen copies and loudly declared that her Christmas shopping was complete before leaving the shop. Chatter broke out immediately and those who had been undecided surged forward to claim their copy of the book in question.
Patience heard Arthur shout a welcome and turned to see Amelia searching the crowd for a glimpse of him. She smiled as the pair embraced, then Arthur brought Amelia toward her. “I hope you do not mind an early present,” Patience said, offering the wrapped package to Amelia.
The girl bit her lip. It was clearly a book, but just as clearly, she wished to know which one it was. “I came to buy the new book,” she confessed. “Mother says that I can.”
“And you will have it,” Arthur said, “but add this one to your collection first. You were the inspiration for its publication, after all.”
Amelia looked between them then opened the package with a care that Patience would never have shown for a new book. She eyed the cover of the Ladies’ Library edition of theLais of Marie de France, which would be the January offering, then opened it with care. The book had the original Breton on the left of each page and an English translation on the right. Amelia went through the entire volume, page by page, her expression solemn, running a fingertip across the flourishes and studying the illustration for each story. She stroked the marbled paper end pages, then closed the book and ran an appreciative hand over the foiled leather cover.
