Before he could say anything else, Sir Humphry peppered her with questions as he picked up a match and studied it—sniffed it, rolled it between his fingers, pinched it—all the while maintaining a stream of conversation that Edward had no role in. But he was more than happy to stand there quietly and watch.
An hour later, as they walked out of the quadrangle and onto The Strand, Fiona was letting her briefcase swing animatedly, a little too animatedly given Edward now knew what it contained.
She had exchanged addresses with Sir Humphry and promised him a tour of the firm, should he ever visit Abingdale. The clod-headed imbeciles she’d spoken with that day may not have been able to appreciate her genius, but the country’s preeminent chemist did and she practically danced to the carriage.
When he climbed in after her, her feet were tapping away as though she were dancing a joyful jig. He couldn’t match her enthusiasm, nonsensical jealousy still nagging at him.
She didn’t notice. Instead, she leaned over, took his face between her hands, and kissed him. It was quick and firm and full of impulsive celebration. Before he could respond, before he could wrap his hands around her and sink into that kiss like a man happy to drown, she pulled away.
“Thank you,” she said. “I will never forget what you just gave me.”
There was no logical excuse for what happened next. He was simply an idiot fueled by envy and a desire to keep the moment alive: “I could get it for you. I could make them give you a contract.”
Chapter 10
Her elation was snuffed in a heartbeat, all of the last hour’s excitement extinguished by his block-headed arrogance. “You did not, in earnest, say that?”
Of all the witless offers he could have made, nothing could have infuriated her more—a fact he clearly couldn’t understand judging by the confusion on his face.
She climbed back out of the carriage.
Heedless of the danger he was in, the duke continued as he followed her.“You need a sale and I have the means to get it for you.”
Exasperating man.“I dunnae want you toget itfor me. I want to get it on my own.”
He threw up his hands, looking at her as though she were a mad creature. “Why? What is the point of fighting and failing when you don’t have to?”
Exasperation turned to fury. She jabbed a finger into the costly fabric of his coat, causing him to take a step back. “Ye do not ken what it’s like to be told ye cannae yer entire life. Ye cannae go to university because a woman has no need of books. Ye cannae live alone, because it’s not ‘proper’ for a woman. Ye cannae dress as ye please because, och, we don’t want to offend a man’s sensibilities.”
With each point she made, she pushed forward, until he was butting up against the lacquered wood. “I’m tired of being told that I cannae because I’m a woman, when I bloody well can. I made these matches. I can sell them. I don’t need or want yer help. Is that clear?”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally responding. “It seems foolish to risk all your effort for your principles.”
“For some of us, principles are all we have.” But as she said the words, they rang false. She would give up her principles in a heartbeat if it meant being able to put her own roof over her head. The truth was, she didn’t wanthishelp. She didn’t want to owe him anything. Even today was too much. She had been a fool to accept it.
“Come on, Andrew.” She reached into the carriage, grabbed her bag, and then marched off.
“Where are you going?” Edward called.
“Back to the house,” she snapped, without even turning in his direction.
“Well, you’re going in the wrong direction.”
When she turned around, Edward was leaning against the carriage with his arms crossed. He had a smug look on his face that made her already heated temper flare. She resumed marching, this time in the opposite direction. Andrew trailed after her.
She was ten feet past the duke when he started walking behind her. She stopped. “What are ye doing?”
“Escorting you home.” He held out an elbow for her to grasp.
Instead, she put both hands behind her back. “I don’t need an escort.”
“You’re an unmarried woman walking through London. You need an escort.”
In Abingdale she walked miles home by herself each night, yet in London couldn’t walk six feet on her own. How had the women of high society not rebelled? The lack of autonomy over their own movement was abhorrent. Thank God she would soon be out of London, away from this ridiculous expectation.
“Andrew is escorting me.”
The duke fixed Andrew with an intimidating stare and the tips of her footman’s ears turned bright red.
