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“The name of your ship?”
“She was going to take me away from you. It would be fitting if she were also the reason for our union.”
She tilted her head to one side. “You know what? I love that idea. Boadicea was a warrior queen. And her name means ‘victory.’”
She traced a bead of sweat down his chest. “I’m glad that you’re not threatened by powerful and intelligent women, Ford. I’m glad I don’t have to be weak for you to feel strong.”
“You make me stronger, Beatrice. You reinforce me. I want to be the roof over your head, the floor beneath your feet. It feels like...” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips one by one. “It feels like when I have a floor to lay down, and all of the boards fit together seamlessly. We fit together, Beatrice.”
She rolled on top of him and brought her knees to either side of his hips. “We do, don’t we?”
“Again?” he asked, a little breathlessly.
“Again,” she said, rocking toward him and brushing her nipples against his chest.
His hands bracketed her hips. “Beatrice,” he groaned. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I hope not, not when our life together is just beginning.”
“I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us.”
Soon they were flying toward the stars on the horizon again.
She was a new beginning.
She was his haven.
His heaven.
Epilogue
London, one year later
The dedication ceremony for the Boadicea Club, Strand, was attended by no less than four dukes, a grand number for any occasion.
Almost enough to quell the persistent rumors that this new clubhouse was a secret hotbed of revolutionary females plotting to overthrow the right and proper patriarchal order of British society.
The assembled members of the society looked just like ordinary ladies, not bloodthirsty warrior queens, the gathered crowd confirmed. Although Lady Beatrice Wright, who had made a marriage of unequal social rank to the handsome and virile carpenter standing by her side, Mr. Stamford Wright, was seen to be out of doorswithout a bonnet,though it was a sunny day that teased her copper hair to flame.
The Dukes of Banksford, Ravenwood, and Thorndon flanked the stone entranceway with their vivacious duchesses, while Westbury, who held the dubious honor of being the Most Eligible Duke in London, made a rare daytime appearance in the company of his unmarried sisters.
Two elegant and poker-faced dowager duchesses were in attendance to lend gravitas to the occasion. This solemnity was undermined by the antics of the Duke of Banksford’s twins, a tall lad and a girl who should have known better, darting in and out of the crowd, playing hide-and-seek with their young brother, a sturdy little boy with surprisingly quick legs.
Another rather shocking circumstance was that the Duchess of Thorndon, a new mother, refused to entrust the care of her infant daughter to the affronted nurse who trailed after them, determined to have her charge back.
All in all, if the crowd was hoping for scandal and rabble-rousing speeches from deranged bluestockings, they left disappointed.
“Ladies and gentlemen supporters,” Beatrice began, smiling at her friends and family. “We are gathered here to dedicate this clubhouse to the achievement of women in the arts and sciences and in the area of entrepreneurship, and to the goals of education and sisterhood. It is fitting that the name Boadicea was chosen, the name of a legendary queen and warrior, and a name meaning ‘victory’. We have much to overcome—partiality, prejudice, custom, and ignorance. The members of our society have already achieved many milestones. May we celebrate those achievements, and move ever onward toward our goals.”
“I’m confused,” said Beatrice’s mother as they entered the clubhouse together. “I thought this was a knitting society?”
“There’s some needlework involved. Miss Finchley knit this blanket.” Beatrice saw her mother seated in a comfortable chair near the fire. “Here, let me tuck it over your knees, there’s a chill in the air.”
The fact that her mother was here at all gave Beatrice great joy. Her mother hadn’t fully accepted Ford into the family, but at least she no longer pretended that he didn’t exist.
Ford caught her eye from across the room and Beatrice’s heart skipped a beat. He looked so handsome today, but she couldn’t wait to get him back to their house and reveal the taut, muscled flesh beneath that tailored suit.
They’d renovated one of the buildings next door into a modest, yet extremely comfortable, home.
