It took the clerk two trips to carry their purchases to the carriage, where the coachman stowed them in the boot. Fanny bounced on her heels with happiness, and Eli’s heart soared.
Fanny sank back into the seat of the carriage with a heart full of hope and a mind full of ideas. “Sometimes, I think heaven is a library.”
Eli, who had always envisioned green meadows and flowers, closed his eyes and pretended to consider the matter. The only thing that danced through his mind was Fanny. Fanny walking at his side. Fanny filled with happiness. Fanny in his arms. Fanny… He cut the thought off there.
He might not be her idea of a hero, but he had found a way to give her joy. It was enough for now.
*
“A library. LikeClarion’s. I hope the earl will let me use it. Will the books be stored at the hall?” Fanny mused.
“Perhaps. After you’ve read them and made notes on the publishers,” Eli said with a wry grin. “We need a plan.”
“Plan for what?” Her brows pulled together. Fanny’s writing, too precious, too personal, did not need meddling. “You will kindly tell your employer he is not to interfere. I appreciated the opportunity to learn more, but—”
“Duly noted, madam author. As your business adviser, however, I would suggest you need a plan. We will review our notes, examine their offerings, and settle on a short list of target publishers.” Eli, who was across from her in the back-facing seat, leaned his elbows on his knees. “Then we will decide which of your works most suits each one and write a targeted proposal to—”
“Are you?” Fanny asked, suddenly sober.
“Am I what?”
“My business adviser.” She sorted the words in her mind. Adviser. Not dictator.
“I think I have been since the day we met.” Eli looked into her eyes, searching and probing, but she couldn’t think what he sought.
Business adviser. She liked the sound of it, as if she managed her own business. As if he worked for her. That part didn’t sit perfectly well, however.Partnerssounded better, but still, her heart sank.Is that all we are to each other?
*
Friday having beena long day, they made a late start Saturday. Rob was needed at work, leaving Eli to escort Fanny, Lucy, and young Wil to the Tower of London. Reilly trailed after them. Maddy again pled indisposition. Mornings laid her low.
“I’m sorry Viscount Ashmead isn’t here. He promised me history,” Wil said.
“Lady Marj said he would give you the gory bits,” Fanny commented. She couldn’t quite imagine Clarion’s sober little son getting up to mischief.
Wil grinned. “That, too.”
“I’m sorry Amy is missing this,” Fanny said.
“She’s more interested in running in the woods with Lady Marj,” Eli pointed out to Fanny’s agreement.
The visit didn’t disappoint. Wil pronounced the lions and other beasts “rather sad, really,” and Eli couldn’t disagree. The boy found the various armories, especially the Spanish Armoury, with its trophies from the defeat of the armada, much more to his taste.
“Shall we have a look at the Jewel House?” Eli raised his brows and peered at Fanny. “Unless, of course, you’re done in.” Her quick grin pleased him. “Lucy? Are you up for more?” he went on. Lucy had almost begged off because the baby had the sniffles, until the nursery maid had assured her the boy was better and would be fine.
“For the jewels? Always!” Lucy said.
Fanny linked arms with her brother. “I wouldn’t miss it. And stop rolling your eyes, Wilbur Rundle. They are the gems of your sovereign.”
Their laughter cut off abruptly when two men coming toward them blocked their way to the jewel display. Eli recognized Grimsley’s stern-faced companion from previous encounters. As before, the man hung back and Grimsley didn’t introduce him. Eli glanced back at Reilly. Grimsley’s companion was rather better dressed than a footman, but perhaps he was a bodyguard of some sort as well.
“Well met, ladies,” the earl oozed, inclining his head. “Enjoying the delights of the Tower?” His gaze trailed to Fanny rather more often than Eli liked.
“We are, indeed, my lord. We’re on our way to the Jewel House,” Lucy said, glancing pointedly past the two men.
Eli kept silent, wishing they would get out of the way.
“Not the lions?” Humor lurked in Grimsley’s expression. No one shared it. He flicked a glance at Wil.
