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CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
“When I was a child,” Elizabeth began, “my mother wanted to teach me how to be a proper lady, but I rebelled. Instead of learning embroidery, I climbed trees and played in the stream with our old dog, Cinna.” Rhys smiled at the dog’s name, and she paused her story. “Why are you smiling?”
“Did you name it Cinna?” he asked.
She smiled. “My father did. He inspired me to give Brutus a Roman name.”
Rhys chuckled. “Are you going to give our children Roman names?”
Her eyes widened. “I did not think of it. I hardly thought about children because I did not think I would marry. You would not mind them having Roman names?”
“Not in the least.” He kissed her cheek. “You were telling me about your childhood.”
“Yes. My mother stopped teaching me and concentrated her efforts on Irene. My father traveled frequently, and I often found myself alone. I thought my mother did not love me because of her neglect. When I debuted, I felt lost in Society. The ladies would not befriend me, and the gentlemen disliked a woman that talked too much.”
Rhys felt a pang of guilt when she said that, and he wanted to tell her that he admired her wit, and that the only reason he wanted a meek wife was so he could keep everything in his life under his control. Elizabeth had taken that control from him, and he was now like a man drifting at sea. He was at the mercy of his wife and his heart.
“Stella was and still is my only friend,” she continued. “I wrote my first piece after my father described an argument that took place in the House of Lords between a Baron who feared locomotive engines and an Earl who loved them.”
“I remember the satire,” Rhys said. “How did you get it published?”
“I gave Stella my pin money, and she gave it to a man she knew at the press. He replaced an article that was supposed to be published with mine, and when London loved it, the newspaper began to pay me to give my opinion.” Her eyes sparkled with the pride she felt for her accomplishment. “Behind Myers, I was free, and I had no fear of being judged or rejected.” She took his hand and held it against her chest. “Rhys, if I stop, I will lose my freedom, and so will many others who have been helped by Myers.”
Rhys was awed by her, and he did not say anything for a long moment while she looked at him expectantly. “Rhys?” Elizabeth squeezed his hand.
“Retire Myers only when you wish,” he said at last. “I cannot take something you love away from you.”
“Oh, Rhys!” She flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you!”
Rhys also could not tell her about the increased danger. She could stop because of it, and he could not allow that to happen. He wanted her to be happy, and he would guard her while she changed the world with her pen. He kissed her neck and moved his arms to circle her waist, smiling. Now that they were talking about her work without reservation, he was curious, and he found that he could have every question he’d ever had about Myers answered.
“Elizabeth, how did you know Burton wanted to support Edwin Sanders?”
She pulled away but left her hands on his shoulders. “House servants,” she replied simply. “I pay them to tell me what happens in their households, but they do not tell me directly or Stella. We have an intermediary. A postman.”
“The man I saw with you at the docks, who is he?” He gently brushed wisps of her hair away from her face.
“He is the man who helped me publish my first piece. He has never seen my face and does not know my name. The first time we met was that night.”
That concerned Rhys. “But he knows Stella, does he not?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Not her name, and she always wore a black wig and quite a bit of powder on her face. He is compensated well for his silence.”
“What is his name?” If Rhys knew his name, he could have him watched, so he could be prevented from exposing Elizabeth.
“Samuel Reed. Why do you want his name?”
Rhys grinned. “I believe you were meant to ask that question before giving me his name.”
“What if I gave you a false name to make you trust me?” she countered swiftly. The gleam he saw in her eyes told him something about her fearlessness and how she had remained hidden for nearly four years.
His brows rose. “Did you?”
“Perhaps I did.”
He laughed, impressed. She had thought about everything and was demonstrating her capabilities. “I want his name, so I can have eyes on him in London. So he can be stopped if he tries to expose you.” Her expression changed, softened, and she stroked his cheek. “You have me now, and I mean to keep you and our secret safe.”
“Our secret?” Her face brightened.
