Footsteps sounded from the short hallway before Moran appeared. A beard shadowed his jaw, and his auburn hair was disheveled. Where he’d been taciturn on our initial meeting, a grin split his wide mouth. He looked much younger than my first impression and rather handsome in a rough sort of way. “Mr. Lillian.”
“Mr. Moran.” I thumbed my briefcase, eager to speak with him. His note to me had been short and concise, giving little away.Thanks to Colt and Lord Kendrick, I had completed the first half of my book, titillating scenes and all, and submitted it the previous week. To have the publisher respond so quickly was heartening.
“Come into my office. Mrs. Hamish, see that I’m not disturbed.” He clasped my elbow and all but dragged me into the office across the hall. Like the reception area, his desk was cluttered with stacks of papers. “Sit, sit,” he said.
I perched on the edge of the hard wooden chair, my heart racing with anticipation, and settled my briefcase in my lap. The smell of ink and parchment saturated the air, and I inhaled the familiar scents to calm my nerves. “Thank you.”
He plopped into his chair and pulled a bundle off the highest stack. For once, my height came in handy, and I could read the top page. A stroke of ink was slashed across the last word. In bold handwriting, Moran had replaced Achilles with Lord Golden.
“You changed the title. I thought you liked it,” I said.
“I do like it, but I prefer this one.Kneeling at the Altar of Lord Goldenis more true to the story.” He pulled a fountain pen from the well on his desk and nodded. Ink stains marred his fingers as he flipped the page to the opening chapter. “I must commend you on a job well done. Your writing was a bit amateurish on that first day we met.”
The backhanded compliment was given in his customary abrupt manner. With Colt’s guidance and input, I rewrote the entire first half of the book. Lord Kendrick had been my inspiration. The end result exceeded my expectations, and I was well on my way to finishing the second half at a record speed. “I, um, thank you?”
A guffaw cut the air, startling me. Amusement lit up his entire face, and I found it hard to reconcile him with the grim-faced man I had met on that first day. Moran tapped the pen on the second paragraph. “Lady Lillian, I—”
The air left my lungs, and I dug my nails into the leather of my briefcase. “You know who I am?” The strained question was barely above a whisper. Panic constricted my throat.
His smile faltered, and a trace of impatience returned. “Of course, I know who you are. Well, not at first, mind you. You live in Mayfair. Few people live in Mayfair. And your wedding announcement was in the paper.”
“I see.” I snatched the manuscript from beneath his hand, bile burning a path in my throat. Here I thought I wanted to publish my novel because it was good. But the entire time, heknew my identity. My greatest fear was realized. I was being published not for my work but for my name.
He kept a firm grip on the paper, panic in his light brown eyes. “Hold on. What are you doing?”
“I am taking my manuscript back. If I am going to be published, it will be on the quality of my storytelling abilities, not on my father’s title.” My success was empty unless I could be published on my own merits
“Lady Lillian, I am publishing your novel because it is good. No, better than good.” The inner light brightened his countenance as he leaned forward, his enthusiasm palpable. “It is excellent. The characters are appealing, the storyline is solid, and the plot isn't forced, unlike some other works I’ve published.”
His words placated me somewhat, and I exhaled, my palms damp beneath my kid gloves. Success was right at my fingertips, but I needed assurances. “Before we continue, I will have your word that you are publishing me because my work is good and not because of who my fiancé is?”
“I will give you my word, and gladly. Lady X—excellent name, very mysterious—is a heroine worthy of Bronte, and the scenes with Golden and the knight, brilliant, simply brilliant.” He slapped his hand against the pages, nodding at his own statement.
A reluctant smile curved my lips, and I released my hold on the leather case in my lap. I reclined back in my chair, the panic receding. He’d been rude and flippant during our first meeting. This time around, his zeal was infectious. “I see you have made several comments in the margins.”
“Every manuscript goes through this process. I must know something before we continue. Your fiancé is a powerful man. If he ever found out about this novel ...” he furrowed his brow, uncertainty dimming his expression.
“My fiancé is aware that I’m publishing a book. He is, um, supportive.” He was my muse, but I couldn’t share that with Moran. I must keep Lord Kendrick’s secrets at any cost.
“But not of its risqué nature?”
“He is aware that it is a love triangle and a gothic novel. Other than that, he’s shown no interest in reading it.” It was a partial truth. Lord Kendrick hadn’t read the book. He said he wished to wait until it was complete and he could buy a copy for his private library. “I trust we will be signing a contract,” I said.
“You are a woman. A contract wouldn’t be binding.” He pressed his lips together, and a trace of the sour man of our first meeting emerged.
“I will not be signing anything. A solicitor on behalf of the Lillian Trading Company will act on my behalf.” It had been Colt’s brilliant idea to form a company to protect me in case anyone found out about Mr. Lillian’s books. He hired a solicitor to represent the company, thus eliminating any direct connection to Lord Kendrick or me.
Colt’s resourcefulness only added to his physical appeal, and my affections for him were deepening every day. “You must trust me, the same way I’m trusting you to keep my identity a secret. Shall we shake on it?” I asked before he could change his mind.
He held out his hand and fitted his palm in mine. Like my fiancé, his hand dwarfed mine. He was an attractive man when he wasn’t scowling.
After a brief shake, he released his grip and picked up the pen again. “Now that we have the formalities out of the way, I want to review my notes with you.”
“Yes, let’s do.” One of my dreams was coming true. He liked my work, and soon, very soon, I would be published. In a month, my life had changed because of what I had seen in the garden. Had I not been on the balcony, fate would have planned a different path for me.
Lord Kendrick had lived up to my fantasy, and Colt had been an unexpected surprise. Yet insecurity still lingered. Gavin had also been in the garden. He had every intention of rekindling his romance with the duke from what he’d said.
Well, I would try my best to make sure that didn’t happen. The man was a menace, and Lord Kendrick deserved better. He deserved Colt.
