‘Did my sketches make it to the engravers in time?’
‘I sent them by express yesterday morning to ensure they accompanied the article. Our members will doubtless appreciate their inclusion.’ Lord Denby gave her what she assumed was his version of a smile. ‘These past few days have been most enlightening.’ Indeed they had. For all manner of reasons. ‘I cannot remember when I have been so impressed with a fresh discovery. Roundhouses! Who knew?’
The next half an hour crawled past slowly. Eleanor kept glancing towards the door. Percy barely said a word and Max failed to materialise. The gentlemen were in the process of leaving the table when he finally strode into the room and Effie swore she saw both his sister and Percy physically sag with relief.
‘Sorry I am late, everyone!’ He looked tired. Rumpled. As if he had slept in his clothes. ‘Tenants! What a palaver.’
‘You are just in time to wave the antiquarians off, Max.’ Eleanor’s smile was as brittle as spun sugar. ‘I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.’
‘Well, I did.’ His eyes flicked to Effie’s then and they were filled with apology. ‘Better late than never.’
As he pulled out his sister’s chair so they could wave off their guests, she noticed his fingers were covered in ink. Then Smithson hurried in and skidded to a stop directly in front of them. ‘The carriage is loaded, my lord.’
‘Is all the luggage on board?’
‘Indeed it is, my lord. Including the small case Lord Percivalaccidentallyleft in his bedchamber.’
‘Capital.’ Max came to Effie’s chair next and solicitously pulled it out before taking her hand and wrapping it tightly around his and squeezing it in reassurance, although lord only knew what he was reassuring her of.
The three of them stood on the porch as the antiquarians climbed into the coach, and they stayed there waving, fake smiles glued in place until it disappeared down the drive. The second it did, Eleanor slumped against a column. ‘Smithson! Bring some sherry. No, make that brandy! I don’t care if it is nine o’clock, my poor nerves are shot.’
‘Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?’
‘It was nothing. A little hiccup. I fixed it.’ Max frowned as his sister punched his arm.
‘Oh, you fixed it, did you? That would be the reason I have been up all night, my eyes are crossed and my poor nerves are shot to pieces! Not to mention the not-inconsequential detail that if you hadn’t broken things in the first place they wouldn’t have needed fixing!’
‘Please tell me what has happened?’
‘Percy discovered you were Miss Nithercott.’
‘Thanks to your big mouth! And because of plagiarism, fraud and the stupid rules of that silly Society he belongs to, he wasn’t going to publish your paper, Effie!’
Max saw her face drop and smiled. ‘But he is now. Because I rewrote it.’
‘Yourewrote it!’ Eleanor whacked him again.
‘All right... I wrote the additional words while Eleanor dictated them, although frankly and do not tell the upright Sir Percy, they are still mostly yours, Effie, because I had to plagiarise them. Neither of us knew what half of it meant. It took us all night.’
‘You should have woken me.’
‘I didn’t dare. The only way I could convince him to publish the new article was if it all came from my pen. He was adamant Lord Denby would have his guts for garters if he allowed a woman’s work to slip through the net... Society might crumble after all... Although to be fair to him he did think the stupid rules were old fashioned and he did think your article was one of the best things he had ever read. And we were both disgusted that you weren’t going to get the credit for it—so I changed a few things. Wrote it from a different perspective.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘After a long and heated discussion about those blasted rules, we both came to the conclusion they say the Society will not accept articles written by a woman—but that does not mean they cannot publish articlesabouta woman. So now, instead of giving me all the credit for the discovery, the paper tells the truth.’
‘The truth?’
‘That I merely wielded the pickaxe and you were the brains. I submitted the article as your humble assistant, Effie. It will go to press tonight and before Lord Denby can stop it, it will have been distributed to every antiquarian from here to John O’Groats.’
‘I get all the credit?’
‘Every last bit. I’ve even committed to doing a talk at your dratted Society on the subject next month in London in front of a baying, staring crowd, where I will also reiterate your brilliance and denounce I had any hand in it beyond that of pickaxe-wielding minion who just did as he was told.’ He smiled smugly at her stunned face. ‘You can kiss me now.’
‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.’ What a wonderful man she had! ‘But you don’t have to do a talk, Max. The article is enough—no, more than enough for me. My work is being published! That is all I ever wanted.’
‘I know. But it’s time to cast off my widower’s weeds and stop hiding from the world.’ He tapped his lips. ‘I am still waiting.’
Eleanor beamed and hugged her tight. ‘Congratulations! Max told me you are engaged! I couldn’t be happier for you both. And he’s taking you to sea! That is so romantic!’ She sighed and clutched her heart.
‘Where she can be my blasted assistant for a change. For six months of every year...after she’s worked her way up the ranks and learned the ropes, of course, the way I did. You can’t learn to be a sailor by reading. Just as you cannot become an antiquarian until you’ve done the drudge work.’
‘You expect your fiancée to begin as a cabin boy?’
‘She’s a clever thing.’ He pretended to ponder it, his sinfully talented mouth struggling to contain his smile. ‘I suppose she can come aboard as an ordinary seaman and I’ll only make her swab the decks on alternate Tuesdays.’ He turned to Effie, love, desire and mischief dancing an apt sailor’s jig in his beautiful dark eyes. ‘Meanwhile—Miss Not A Nithercott For Much Longer, thank the lord—I still seem to be waiting for that kiss. And as your occasional Captain...’ he tugged her into his arms and pulled the pencil out of the hair she had worn expressly for him and always would ‘...but never your lord and master...and in case that big brain of yours was wondering...after the night I’ve had, that’s an order.’
