Without thinking, Harris drew her to a dark doorway and pressed Miss Winthrop into the fibers of his coat. “Forgive me, Bella.” He spoke roughly into her hair. “But I’ll not ’ave you jumpin’ from fry pan into fire.”
Nor would her brother-in-law allow it. Harris reminded himself he was protecting this young woman for Jasper’s sake, not his own.
The moment Mr. Harris dropped her home, Papa interrogated Annabelle. She, of course, gave him only the vaguest answers, pretending to still be his foolish little girl. Because whatever her father’s connection to Mr. Finch, she now knew matters were worse than she’d assumed. Mr. Harris had given her every reason to think that if Papa did notsubmit to Mr. Finch’s wishes, he’d pay a price beyond the mere financial.
She did not wish to know what that price would be.
Annabelle feared she’d need her sister’s help after all, just as soon as she determinedhow. Though she had Mr. Harris on her side at least. Well, almost. He still wouldn’t let her play his tables, but he was a better man than most to offer her his help.
And handsome. Lord help her, Arthur Harris had looked fine flashing her his singularly crooked grin. He smiled with his eyes too, emerald gems beneath that mop of gold hair.
Papa droned on. She mustnotstart mooning over Mr. Harris. She was a lady of high morals, lacking only in funds.Substantial funds. She would require a great deal more cash than Mr. Harris was paying her to bookkeep, if she wished to free herself from Finch and future suitors.
The only way to do this, Annabelle slowly realized, was to beat both men at their game.Indeed,she smiled to herself while Papa continued muttering and sputtering. Perhaps she didn’t need Arthur Harris’s permission to play his tables. Perhaps she merely needed fifty pounds to gain entry to his den. And thisshe might accomplish with the help of her dear sister.
Annabelle’s smile spread. Tomorrow she’d pay Elizabeth a visit. She didn’t need Mr. Harris’s courtship orhis wages. All she needed was collateral. Though when he’d held her in his arms in that secluded doorway, she’d not wanted the moment to end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Wollstonecraft, eh?” Milton’s tutor looked surprised. “I didn’t take you for the sort to open Pandora’s box, Jasper, but I am happy to open it with you.”
“Yes, well.” Milton dismissed Kilpert’s words with a wave of his hand. “My wife mentioned the author in passing, so I merely thought to?—”
“Wife, right.” Paul Kilpert had been one of a handful to miss Milton’s wedding. “All the more reason to readA Vindication of the Rights of Womanthen. It will give you plenty to chew on, and even more to discuss with your wife should she be inclined to?—”
“I havenointention of discussing it with her,” Milton bit back.
His tutor wisely shut his lips. “Transcendentalism then, for today.”
“Transcend-what?” Milton frowned. “Paul, you know I’ve no patience for pseudo-science and attempts to speak with the dead.”
Kilpert grinned. “I am speaking of transcendentalist philosophy, Jasp. The idea that both man and woman containknowledge of themselves and the world which ‘transcends’ that which our five senses can perceive.”
“Poppycock.”
“I assumed you’d think as much. But transcendentalism proposes knowledge can arrive through intuition and imagination, rather than through physical senses, or human logic, alone. It argues we should trust our inner selves to be the authority on what is right and wrong.”
“I trust only those who trust in my own—” He was about to say ‘authority’ when a knock interrupted.
“Enter,” Milton barked, annoyed.
Elizabeth walked in, stiff as a board.
He was at once put on edge.
“Please forgive the interruption, sir. Permission to speak with you a moment?”
Milton stared at his wife who stared down at the floor in a manner most unlike her. He grimaced. “Granted.”
“In private?” Her eyes flicked to his guest.
“Paul won’t mind.” He suddenly did not wish to speak to her alone. “Kilpert, my wife, Elizabeth Audrey, Baroness of Milton. Lizzie, Paul Kilpert, my tutor.”
“Tutor?”
“Yes.” Milton flinched. “Kilpert fills the gaps in my education. You may recall I was too busy amassing my fortune to comb the hallowed halls of Oxford or Eton.”
“Lady Milton.” Paul bent politely over Lizzie’s hand. “It is an honor to meet you. I am one of your husband’s greatest fans, as he is not only my best student, but also my benefactor.”
