"Well." Thornbury shuffled his papers. "I suppose I could present it to Hastings as an innovative approach. Two perspectives, double the analytical power..."
"Exactly. And think of the practical advantages. Shared note-taking, cross-referencing observations, built-in peer review." Eveline was warming to the idea. "We could accomplish twice as much in the same time frame."
"You're both quite serious about this?"
"Completely," they said in unison.
Thornbury sighed, but Eveline caught the smile tugging at his lips. "Very well.I'll draft a revised proposal for Lord Hastings. Though I warn you, this will raise eyebrows."
"Excellent," Adrian said cheerfully. "Raised eyebrows mean people are paying attention."
They left the museum an hour later, having hammered out preliminary details. Eveline's mind was spinning with possibilities; manuscripts to examine, theories to test, discoveries waiting to be made. And through it all, Adrian beside her, partner in every sense.
"You didn't have to do that," she said as they settled back in the carriage. "Offer to be my assistant. Your life doesn't have to revolve around my work."
"First, I offered to be your partner, not assistant. Second, my life revolves around you whether we're working together or not, so I might as well be useful." He pulled her against his side. "Besides, I meant what I said. I've missed real scholarly work. Estate management is necessary but hardly intellectually stimulating."
"You really published monographs?"
"'Tactical Evolution in the Peloponnesian War,' 'Religious Syncretism in Roman Britain,' and 'Economic Factors in the Fall of the Republic.'" He grinned at her expression. "What? Did you think I just read Herodotus for decoration?"
"I thought... I don't know what I thought." She turned to face him more fully. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you fell in love with me despite thinking I was an idle aristocrat. It seemed important to know you wanted me for myself, not my scholarly credentials."
"Adrian Blackburn," she said slowly, "are you telling me you have hidden depths?"
"Oceans of them. Wait until you discover my secret passion for Byzantine pottery." At her startled look, he laughed. "Jesting. My ceramic interests lean more toward Greek red-figure work."
"This is absurd. I'm marrying a closet scholar who's been pretending to be a dilettante."
"While I'm marrying an open scholar who's been pretending she doesn't need anyone." He kissed her temple. "We're well matched in deception."
"Everything's changing so fast," she said, voicing the thought that had been building all day. "This morning I was terrified of losing myself in marriage. Now we're planning joint research projects and you're revealing secret academic credentials."
"Second thoughts?"
"No." She was surprised by her own certainty. "No, this feels... right. Unexpected but right."
"Good. Because Harwick will have those contracts ready for signature tomorrow, and I'd hate to waste such innovative legal work."
They arrived back at Everleigh Manor to find Morrison in the library, practically vibrating with his own news.
"The palimpsest!" he exclaimed before they'd even removed their coats. "I've found a way to reveal the undertext without damaging the manuscript. Professor Melville wrote back with a new technique using specialized lighting rather than chemicals."
"That's wonderful, Morrison," Eveline said, caught up in his enthusiasm. "When can we try it?"
"I've arranged to borrow the necessary equipment from the Royal Society. If His Grace approves, we could attempt it tomorrow."
"Consider it approved," Adrian said. "This calls for celebration. Champagne in the library seems appropriate."
"At four in the afternoon?" Eveline protested.
"We're revolutionaries, remember? Traditional timing is for traditional people."
Soon they were toasting Morrison's discovery, the Byzantine project, and what Adrian insisted on calling "the most sensible engagement in history."
"To partnership," Morrison offered, raising his glass. "In all its forms."
