"'Whatever this is?'" He leaned forward slightly. "Is that how we're referring to it now?"
"How would you prefer to refer to it?"
"I believe I used the word 'love' rather clearly yesterday."
Heat flooded her cheeks. "You did. But love and professional arrangements make uncomfortable bedfellows."
"Only if we let them." He reached across the small space between them, taking her hand. "Eveline, I'm not offering you this position because I love you. I'm offering it because you're brilliant. The fact that I also love you is... a complication, indeed, but not one that invalidates your worth."
"Pretty words, Your Grace."
"True words." His thumb traced circles on her palm, the simple touch making her pulse race. "Would it help if I told you I've already informed Harwick to build in termination clauses? If either of us finds the arrangement untenable, you can leave with six months' severance and glowing references."
"You thought of that?"
"I thought of everything. Including the fact that you'd need reassurance this wasn't a cage." He released her hand, sitting back. "Read clause seven."
She found the relevant section, eyes widening. "Annual review of terms with mandatory renegotiation?"
"If your work exceeds expectations, which it will, your compensation should reflect that. If your interests shift, the position should accommodate. Nothing about this is fixed, Eveline. It can grow and change as you do."
"And if my growth takes me away from Everleigh Manor?"
Something flickered in his eyes; pain, mayhap, quickly suppressed. "Then I'll write you the finest reference letter ever penned and try not to drink myself into oblivion afterward."
"Adrian..."
"I mean it. This position doesn't bind you to me personally. Your freedom to leave is written into every clause." He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Harwick was horrified. Apparently, it's terrible business practice to make it easy for valuable employees to depart."
She studied the contracts again, seeing them differently now. Not a cage but a framework, not chains but support. The kind of position that should exist for scholars like her but didn't because the world hadn't caught up to the possibility.
"I have conditions," she said finally.
"I expected nothing less."
"First, I maintain separate lodgings. Coming here daily is acceptable, but I won't live under your roof. The gossip would be unbearable, and more importantly, I need space that's mine."
"Agreed, though I reserve the right to be irritable about it."
Despite everything, she smiled. "Second, our personal relationship remains separate from professional obligations. No using duke privileges to overwhelm myscholarly arguments."
"Would I do that?"
"You absolutely would. Remember our Constantine debate?"
"I was right about Constantine."
"You were absolutely not right about Constantine, and this is exactly what I mean." But she was still smiling. "Third, I want quarterly reviews for the first year. If this isn't working, for either of us, we need to acknowledge it quickly."
"Sensible. What else?"
"That's all. Three conditions."
He looked surprised. "That's remarkably restrained. I expected at least a dozen prohibitions and sublclauses."
"I'm trying this new approach where I trust that you mean what you say." She gathered the contracts, holding them carefully. "I'll have my own solicitor review these, of course."
"Of course. Harwick would be disappointed if you didn't." He paused, studying her face. "Does this mean you're accepting?"
