"It means I'm strongly considering it." She rose, needing movement to contain the emotions threatening to spill over. "The Manchester coach leaves tomorrow morning. I have until then to decide."
"Eveline..."
"I know." She turned back to face him. "I know what you're offering, what you've done. The museum position, Cadwell's contract, this...you've rebuilt my future in the span of two days. But I need to be certain I'm choosing it for the right reasons."
"What would be the wrong reasons?"
She thought of Harriet, practically engaged to a man she didn't love for security. Of Mrs. Granger-Ashton's insulting offer taken from desperation. Of every woman who'd ever said yes because no seemed impossible.
"Fear," she said simply. "I won't choose from fear."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. "Then choose from ambition. Choose from the desire to see your work recognized. Choose from the knowledge that you deserve every opportunity these positions provide."
"And if I choose from love?"
The words hung between them, too honest for the professional conversation they'd been having. Adrian rose slowly, crossing to where she stood by his desk, or better even, by their desk, if she accepted.
"Then I'd be the most fortunate man in England," he said quietly. "But Eveline, I need you to understand something. These positions exist because of your merit, not my feelings. If you can't separate the two, if you'll always wonder whether you earned your place or were given it..."
"I know." She reached up, touching his face gently. "That's why I need tonight to think. To be certain I'm choosing the scholar's life because I want it, not because I want you."
"Can't you want both?"
"I do want both. That's what terrifies me." She stepped back before the temptation to kiss him overwhelmed good sense. "I should go. Harriet's probably memorized your entire novel collection by now."
"Eveline." His voice stopped her at the door. "Whatever you decide, know this; you've already changed things. Thornbury's fighting to get more women consultants approved. Cadwell's actively seeking female translators. Sometimes revolution happens slowly, one brilliant mind at a time."
"Pretty words again."
"True words again." His smile was crooked, vulnerable. "I'm getting rather good at them where you're concerned."
She collected Harriet, who indeed had been deep in what appeared to be a Gothic novel ("Research," she claimed with dignity), and they departed into the gathering dusk. The walk home was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts about futures offered and futures feared.
It wasn't until they reached Eveline's lodgings that Harriet spoke. "You're going to accept."
"Am I?"
"Yes. Because underneath all your fears about cages and charity, you know the truth and that is what you've worked for. Recognition, respect, the chance to contribute to scholarship. The fact that it comes with a duke who looks at you like you are the moon is rather beside the point."
"Is it?"
"Eveline." Harriet stopped on the doorstep, taking her friend's hands. "Do you remember what you told me about settling for Malbrooke? That it would kill something vital in me?"
"Of course."
"The same is true for you. Refusing these positions out of pride or fear would kill the scholar in you. And unlike my situation, you'd be refusing real love alongside opportunity." She squeezed gently. "Don't let principle rob you of happiness. Heaven knows we see little enough of it in this world."
They parted at the door, Harriet promising to call tomorrow to learn her decision. Eveline climbed to her chambers, finding them unchanged despite the day's revelations. Her desk still held the morning's correspondence, including Mrs. Granger-Ashton's insulting offer.
She read it again, then deliberately tore it into small pieces. Whatever tomorrow brought, she would not be darning stockings for women who thought her mind was worth less than her scandal.
The other letters lay in neat array; Thornbury's museum appointment, Cadwell's publishing contract, Adrian's comprehensive offer. Together they formed a future she'd never dared imagine, even in her most ambitious moments.
But it was the fourth letter that made her decision, arriving with the evening post just as she'd settled in to think through her options properly.
Dearest Eveline,
Your brother has told me of your Manchester position. While I confess I would prefer to see you respectably settled closer to home, I understand your need for independence. Your father would be proud of your determination, if likely also appalled at your stubbornness.
