Chuckling softly atthe reminder of why he had stuffed Titan’s note into his waistcoat pocket, Matthew leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Would I be correct in assuming you would prefer to be the proprietress of your own book company?” he asked. He wouldn’t have known she had a desire to run her own publishing company without Titan’s timely missive.
He also wouldn’t have known the matchmaker had established a timeline for when she expected him to be married. He thought it terribly cheeky of the older woman, but he supposed she was merely anxious to collect her fee.
Catherine gave a start. “Well, I had hoped to inherit my father’s publishing house,” she replied. “But he hasn’t yet committed to the idea. I think he’s still holding out for an heir.”
Matthew angled his head to one side. “May I ask why it is you don’t simply start your own publishing company?” he queried, watching as her eyes widened.
“I… I hadn’t considered the option,” she admitted.
“Might I put forth a proposal?”
She seemed to regard him with suspicion before she finally said, “Go on.”
“If we marry, I would be willing to… to assist you… in the creation of your own publishing company,” he stammered, hoping she wouldn’t think of the offer as a bribe to marry him.
He could hear her soft inhalation of breath the second before the driver’s call of “Whoa!” had the coach suddenly slowing.
“We’re here,” she said, her gaze having gone once again to the glass. Beyond it were the well-lit windows of Gunter’s Tea Shop. Inside, brightly dressed patrons were seated at small round tables, obviously engaged in lively conversation or private discussions.
Matthew glanced out the other window to see that the maple plane trees in Berkeley Square had already lost their leaves. Despite the dark, he knew the knobby branches were displaying their distinctive patterned bark. When he was younger, he had peeled it off to reveal the patches of white, tan, and gray beneath. The spiky “button balls” that hung from the branches easily stuck to wool coats, which made them an excellent substitute for snowballs in the winter.
He chuckled softly at the memory of his nurse’s scolds and then quickly sobered when he noticed snowflakes were dancing about in the light from the coach lantern.
“It’s still snowing,” he warned.
“Your driver has managed to find a spot rather close to the tea shop,” she countered. “I’ll be fine.”
The door opened and Matthew was quick to step out and offer his hand as Catherine exited the equipage. At the same time, the door to the tea shop opened and several patrons filed out, rushing off to their coaches.
Matthew held the door for Catherine, happy to discover there were a few empty tables in the establishment. “Let’s sit towards the back. It will be warmer,” he suggested. A waiter waved to a round table for two set against the wall.
Although Catherine took only a passing glance at the menu board the waiter presented, Matthew studied the options far longer. “I seem to remember there was an ice flavored with Gruyere cheese,” he murmured.
“There still is,” she said. “And one with Parmesan,” she added, wrinkling her nose.
“Are you still pining for the bergamot and pear?” he asked.
She grinned. “I am. Should you be hungry, I would not mind if you got a sandwich.”
“I would hate to eat in front of you,” he argued.
“I would hate for you to go hungry because my schedule didn’t allow us to do this earlier in the day,” she countered.
“Very well.” He motioned to the waiter, who hurried over. Matthew gave him their order and added cups of tea. Once they were alone again, he asked, “Have you given my… proposal any thought?”
Catherine dipped her head and sighed. “Of course. I must say I find it difficult to believe.”
“But why?” he asked in surprise.
“We’ve only known one another a day… two days,” she amended. “And you’re suggesting I start my own company without knowing anything about me. About my skills—”
“You’re a librarian,” he stated. “A daughter of a publisher. You must know all there is to know about books. About how books are made?”
She blinked several times. “I suppose I do,” she agreed.
“And, most importantly, this business will have to be funded entirely by your dowry,” he said, wincing at the reminder he would require a chunk of it to pay off his debts. Given it could be another year or so before he could count on a decent harvest to pay the current bills and his tenant farmers, he wouldn’t be able to begin rebuilding her dowry for perhaps another year after that. “I will see to it your marriage portion is… paid back, of course. Once the farms have recovered.”
Catherine watched as the waiter set their cups of tea on the table along with a sugar pot and a small pitcher of milk. “You’ve given this a good deal of thought,” she said quietly.
