"Then you'll handle them as they arise." Harriet set down her teacup with decisive force. "Do you know what I see when I look at you two together? Partnership. Real, true partnership of minds and hearts. Do you know how rare that is?"
"But the social implications..."
"Will sort themselves out. You're already a scandal, darling. Might as well be a married scandal with financial security and a husband who worships your mind." Harriet's expression softened. "Don't let fear rob you of happiness. You've been brave about everything else, so be brave about this too."
***
An hour later, Eveline arrived at Everleigh Manor to find the library transformed into what appeared to be a legal office. Adrian sat at one end of the long table, Harwick at the other, and between them spread enough documents to paper the walls.
"Ah, Miss Whitcombe." Harwick rose, bowing correctly. "His Grace informed me we have a unique contract to draft. I've taken the liberty of preparing some preliminary documents based on his specifications."
"Our specifications will be joint," Eveline said firmly, taking her seat. "I have my own requirements."
"Excellent." Harwick's eyes gleamed with what could only be described as legal excitement. "I do so enjoy a challenging negotiation. Shall we begin?"
What followed was three hours of the most intense negotiation Eveline had ever experienced. Every clause was examined, debated, refined. Her rights to publish under her own name were guaranteed. Her income from all professional positions would be retained separately. Her freedom to accept new positions or opportunities were also protected.
"The townhouse in Bloomsbury," Adrian said during a break for tea. "I thought you might want your own space for work. Somewhere you can retreat when the ducal obligations become too much."
"My own house?" Eveline stared at him.
"Every scholar needs a sanctuary. It's close to the British Museum, has excellent light for detailed work, and comes with a small staff who understand the importance of not disturbing someone deep in translation." He smiled at her expression. "Consider it a wedding gift."
"Adrian, that's..."
"Practical," he interrupted. "You'll need space for your assistants, your research materials, somewhere to work without my distracting presence."
"You're not that distracting," she protested.
"Yesterday you spent twenty minutes staring at my hands while I was writing correspondence."
"That's... an exaggeration." Though not by much. He did have exceptionally attractive hands.
"The point is," Harwick interjected diplomatically, "His Grace is ensuring you maintain professional autonomy even within marriage. The Bloomsbury property would be held in your name alone."
"In my name," she repeated, still processing. "Adrian, do you understand what you're suggesting? A married woman owning property independently?"
"I understand perfectly." His gaze was steady. "I'm suggesting we create the marriage we want, not the one society expects. If that means separate properties and independent incomes and contracts that would make traditional peers faint, so be it."
"This clause about children," Eveline said, finding her voice as they returned to the documents. "It seems..."
"Excessive?" Harwick supplied. "His Grace was quite specific. Any children would not supersede your professional obligations. Nurses, tutors, whatever support necessary to ensure your work continues unimpeded."
"Adrian..."
"Don't look at me like that," he said. "I've seen what motherhood does to brilliant women. Reduces them to nothing but nursery supervisors. If we have children, wonderful. But they won't become your sole purpose for existing."
"Most men want heirs above all else."
"I'm not most men." He reached across the table to take her hand. "I want you. Everything else is negotiable."
They worked through lunch, refining terms that would have scandalized proper society. By mid-afternoon, they had a document that looked more like a business partnership than a marriage contract and which, Eveline reflected, was rather the point.
"There's one more thing," she said as Harwick prepared to draft the final version. "The name."
Both men looked at her with confusion.
"I want to keep publishing under Whitcombe," she clarified. "My work, my reputation; it's all under that name. I can't lose it."
