But with ten percent of all future profits made from her designs, she would havemoretime to spend with her relatives, not less. She’d be able to visit them in London. Take them all on holiday wherever they wished. She could have the distinguished presence she’d been working toward as well as time to enjoy it.
IfJonathan said yes.
He narrowed his eyes. “Twelve.”
She blinked. “What?”
“All right, fifteen,” he said. “But only on the lockets you design, and of course only if my partners agree to it.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “That means yes?”
“They’ll be surprised,” he said slowly, “but I don’t see how they can deny the logic. Calvin shall receive a large percentage of the entire company’s earnings based on his fashion designs, so why shouldn’t you earn a portion of the profit we make off ofyours?If they like your prototype, of course.”
“They’lladoremy prototype. They’ll walk about with ten gold lockets strapped to their chests because they won’t be able to decide which design they like best,” she informed him.
“In that case,” he said, “I suppose we’re a team.”
Ateam. Her heart skipped.
She hadn’t worked with someone else since she moved to Cressmouth seven years ago. By Jonathan’s own admission, this company was the first true partnership of his life.
Their futures were now tied together.
Chapter 9
The Marlowe Castle annual Yuletide ball started in less than an hour. Angelica hadn’t moved for fifteen minutes.
She stood in front of her wardrobe, willing it to contain something other than six identical day dresses, two identical church dresses, and one tired evening gown.
Because she had spent most of the last seven years at her worktable, there had not been many appearances in ballrooms. Only during Yuletide, in fact, when her relatives came up from London.
They teased Angelica relentlessly for her uninspired wardrobe. Even though Luther knew his sister preferred to use her brain only for important decisions, he still loved to intimate that perhaps Angelica really did only own two dresses, and always offered to buy her one more just to “liven” her up.
Tonight was the first time she wished she’d let him.
She wouldn’t have touched it until now, making it something new she could wear, just for Jonathan. Who would be here in... She glanced at the clock upon the mantel. Twenty minutes.
Well, she’d be ready in plenty of time. There was only one thing to wear.
She pulled on the same evening gown she wore every Christmas. Before, her sartorial restraint had always seemed practical. Now that she would be attending a ball with a gentleman who dressed like a literal fashion plate, her worn, mint-and-white gown looked hopelessly out of style.
It didn’t matter. Even if she designed the most stunning lover’s lockets Britain had ever seen… Even if the Duke of Nottingvale was so overcome by her vision and artistry that he was moved to personally endorse her creation… Even if Jonathan’s business partner didn’t bat an eye at paying a complete stranger fifteen percent of profits made on a locket said stranger designed… Even if every item in the catalogue was a runaway success, making them all famous, and wealthier—and England itself, dressier—than ever before...
There would still be no reason to believe she would see Jonathan again after he left Cressmouth.
Angelica could send her designs by post—and indeed, would more likely be working directly with the artisans creating the products than corresponding with them through a third-party investor. There was no reason for anxiety.
Jonathan would only see her in tonight’s uninspired gown once. She would get over the embarrassment and forget it ever happened, just as he would forget about her once he moved on to the next town, the next lonely woman he happened to meet.
They would both move on.
None of that stopped her from splashing rose water on her wrists and taking extra time with her hair. Tonight, she parted the front of her hair down the middle, using her fingers to create side-twists to frame her face. The rest of her hair, she pulled twisted back into a chignon, which she decorated with two gold-and-pearl hair combs.
The same ones she hadn’t let Jonathan purchase the day they’d met.
When the knock came on her front door, her heart skipped giddily. Although her home shared a common wall with her shop, she was rarely in it except to bathe and sleep. She certainly was unaccustomed to gentleman callers arriving to accompany her to a ball.
Until today.
