IT WASN’T THE first morning Ford had awakened next to Violet, but it was the first time he’d awakened next to his wife.
He just lay there a while, watching the rise and fall of her breathing, admiring the color in her cheeks, her lips still rosy from their kisses. Finally, unable to help himself, he reached out, brushing the side of her face with the backs of his fingers.
“Ford?”
“Hush, my sweet. Sleep.”
With a sigh, he rose so she could do so. Quietly he padded to the washbasin and splashed his face, then reached for a towel.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
What kind of a man was he? He’d thought he was doing the right thing, the responsible thing, when he’d sold the book to save Lakefield. He’d been so pleased with himself when he’d managed to make his home livable and still have money left to last for a while until the estate could turn a profit. It was the first time in his life he hadn’t spent every shilling the moment he laid hands on it.
Last night, when Violet returned the book, he’d been stunned and thrilled to discover the depth of her love and generosity. But as he studied himself this morning, reality set in.
Criminy, her money had paid for everything. And would continue to pay their expenses for the next few months, at least.
He closed his eyes, guilt battering his newfound happiness. Never mind that he was accustomed to living hand to mouth, he now had a wife. Shouldn’t he be the provider?
Society said not necessarily, but his heart told him yes. Especially because he’d been telling Violet that all along.
Straightening, he looked in the mirror again and ordered himself to come to terms with it. Like it or not, his new wife had been his anonymous benefactor. At this point, all he could do was resolve to work even harder, and not in his laboratory, but on his land and at his desk. He would do whatever it took to ensure her investment was returned to her.
As he tossed the towel to the washstand, his gaze fell on Secrets of the Emerald Tablet. He would ask Rand—the scheming rascal—to resume the translation, too. But he would no longer depend on an ancient book to rescue him. Gold wasn’t waiting at the end of rainbows. Or in an alchemy crucible, either.
Someday, somehow, he would provide Violet with the funds to publish her book. But the way it looked now, he thought with a resigned sigh, “someday” was far in the future.
A knock came at the bedroom door. He hurried into his breeches and went to answer it.
“Will you be wanting breakfast, milord?”
He looked from Hilda to Violet. “In an hour,” he whispered. “My wife is still abed.”
My wife. His heart swelled at hearing his own words.
“She’ll wake, will she not? It’s hot and ready now. Eggs and cheese. This new French cook certainly is fancy.” Hilda shoved a heavy tray into his hands. “Your mail is there, too.”
Openmouthed, he watched her sway down the corridor before he shut the door. “If I cannot control my servants,” he muttered, “how will I deal with my children?”
“You never did manage to control Jewel.”
“Too true.” He turned and put the tray on the bed. “You’re awake.”
“And famished.” Violet spooned up a bite of eggs, puffed from oven baking and redolent with the scent of sharp Italian cheese.
He sat beside her and sipped coffee from a steaming cup. Setting it down, he took the first letter and snapped open the seal.
“‘Dear Lord Lakefield,’” he read aloud, thinking it might be a congratulatory note on their wedding. “‘I am writing on behalf of my client, Daniel Quare, Watchmaker, who is very interested in buying the rights to produce your patented watch. Please find enclosed a contract—’” He looked up. “What in heaven’s name…?”
Violet’s face had gone white. “Oh my. They’ve responded. I gave them two weeks, and it’s been far longer, so I thought—”
“You gave them two weeks to what?”
“To agree to buy your watch before I took my offer elsewhere. Your offer, I mean.” Some color rushed back into her cheeks. “I signed your name.”
His wife was obviously confused from lack of sleep. “I haven’t patented my watch, love. I haven’t even shown it to the Royal Society yet—”
“I patented it. I wrote to Christopher Wren and asked for instructions. I remembered him saying he’d patented a device for writing with two pens at once.”
“You sold my watch?” It was all beginning to click into place. Shaking his head in disbelief, he scanned farther down the page. His heart stopped. “You sold my watch for twenty thousand pounds? Twenty thousand pounds!”
His heart had started again, but it was about to hammer right through his ribs.
“Twenty thousand?” She grabbed the letter from him. “Is that all they’ve offered?” she said, sounding disgusted.
“All? All! Violet, it’s twice the amount of your inheritance!”
She looked up from the page. “But I asked for twenty-five. What makes them think they can get away with a contract for twenty?”
He started laughing. And laughing. “T-t-t-twenty-five,” he forced out. “You asked for twenty-five.”
“And royalties. Was it not enough?” she asked. “I know your design is revolutionary, but I thought twenty-five thousand pounds was…well, you’re worth more than that, of course. You’re priceless.”
“You’re priceless,” he said. “Give me that contract.”
“You’re not going to sign it, are you? I hope not. They didn’t offer enough. We need to negotiate.”
“Oh, I’m signing it, Violet.” To make certain she wouldn’t stop him, he rolled the paper and stuck it in his breeches. “I wasn’t planning to do anything with the watch, remember? Now, thanks to you, it shall make me wealthy beyond comprehension.”
Thanks to his clever, ambitious, practical wife—a woman who embodied all the things he’d once thought unimportant in women—“someday” had just come a lot sooner than he’d ever dreamed.
His mind raced with plans. “I can sink more money into Lakefield or buy a second estate. Or both.” He grinned. “I can finance the publication of my brilliant wife’s book.”
She cracked a small smile, a smile that stole his heart. “Do you suppose that can wait a while?” she asked. “I mean to raise some children first, if you’re amenable.”
She made him happy. Criminy, he was happy. Happy with his wife, happy with his life.
“Hmm,” he said, watching her speculatively. “After careful consideration, I find I am indeed amenable. But won’t we have to make those children first?”
Her smile widened as she set aside the breakfast tray.
When their lips met, he poured all his love into a kiss.