Of course, all that would happen once Calvin arrived. He had Jonathan’s sketches for the catalogue as well as prototypes of the latest designs.
The duke would be eager to move forward with the plans. The idea was excellent and Calvin’s artistry undeniable. Nottingvale was lucky to be considered as a founding investor. The duke was no fool.
Jonathan might be.
He should be preparing for what might be the most pivotal meeting of his life, not mooning out of the window because he’d rather be reading geology texts aloud on a hard wooden stool at Angelica’s counter than making small talk in a duke’s sumptuous parlor.
Nottingvale’s retinue was breathtakingly efficient. In no time at all, the duke’s trunks were carried inside, the duke himself trimmed and cleaned and starched, and Jonathan trundled into the dining room to join him for nuncheon.
He’d forgotten about the dining room. For the past fortnight, he’d taken almost every meal with Angelica.
The duke’s dining room could seat two dozen. It seemed improbably big and impossibly lonely. Perhaps that was the real reason Nottingvale hosted an annual party. He couldn’t bear sitting at the head of that enormous mahogany table all alone.
That was the best part about not having a home, Jonathan decided. One never had to confront one’s loneliness.
Just when he began to despair of Calvin ever arriving, a significantly less grand carriage pulled up before the cottage, and the most talented tailor in the world leapt out.
“We’ll have to be quick,” said the duke. “Guests could arrive at any moment.”
“Of course,” Jonathan said. “We just need a moment.”
A moment in which there would be no rehearsing, which was bound to worry nervous Calvin. There would also be no time to sort through the sketches and paint the best ones to look like fashion plates. Nottingvale would have to use his imagination—or trust in theirs.
Jonathan met Calvin at the door and ushered him into the parlor, where they worked quickly to set up Calvin’s life-sized manikin with the latest fashions Calvin had designed. Jonathan’s dream of making his fortune on his own was finally within his grasp. Without his father’s coin. Only then would he be able to think about making a home.
The presentation almost went off without a hitch, except for the part where the duke’s sister crashed the meeting, which only caused the duke to even more stubbornly insist in taking part in the venture. He agreed to Angelica’s involvement at once, as well as to only using suppliers with no involvement in the slave trade, even if it meant higher prices for materials like cotton.
“The designs are magnificent. Let’s start production on the catalogues.” The duke turned to Jonathan. “How soon can you start putting them into people’s hands?”
“Tomorrow,” Jonathan said automatically. He could have said today, but he wasn’t leaving Cressmouth without seeing Angelica one last time.
The duke laughed. “Even if I poach the castle’s printing press, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I doubt we can start production in earnest until Twelfth Night. You’re not leaving before then, are you?”
Twelve days of constant Yuletide under one roof. Twelve days of partiers, partying. Tra-la-la, all day long. Happy Christmas this, and Merry Christmas that.
Nothing could entice Jonathan less.
He wouldn’t think about that now. He would think about telling Angelica the good news about her involvement with the project. Politely, he took his leave from Calvin and the duke.
And soon, he must take his leave from Angelica.
His chest seized at the thought. Jonathan flung out a hand to the wall for balance. Never see her again. Never come back, because every moment here was a moment he wasn’t out there spreading the word.
Never see each other again.
The idea was insupportable. Unfathomable. He couldn’t breathe at the sudden sense of loss. He loved her too much to—
God help him. Of all the untimely, foolish complications, Jonathan had fallen in love.
He raked trembling fingers through his hair. He was in love. Did it change anything? Or ought he now to be even more determined to give this project every beat of his heart, knowing it would help Angelica reap all the success she deserved?
Perhaps he was looking at this backward. His heart lightened. He needed to travel as far and wide as possible, but he didn’t need to do it alone.
Angelica had said herself that her seven-year contract expired on Christmas. Only two days remained. Come Sunday, she wouldn’t be tethered to Cressmouth anymore. She could come with him. Perhaps not every second of every day for the rest of their lives—she was a jeweler, and would want to spend some time in her shop creating jewelry—but their paths could intersect.
Instead of Jonathan wandering the world alone, they could build their future together.
Chapter 12
It was past ten when Angelica awoke the next morning, but she did not rush into her shop to prepare for business. It was Christmas Eve. She would spend the next two full days with her friends and family and, if he wished to join them, with Jonathan.
He had helped her to realize that she worked better and faster when she took time for herself, to rest and make merry. Waiting until the work was done was a mirage—the work would never be done. She had to take time for the things that mattered. Her family, Jonathan, and herself.
Closing her eyes again, she stretched her limbs out like a starfish, reveling in the freedom of not having to do anything at all. Not only had she delivered the last of the outstanding jewelry orders last night, today marked the last day in her seven-year contract with Mr. Marlowe.
At midnight tonight, the shop would be hers.
Better yet, her life would be hers. Visits with her family would no longer be limited to Yuletide. She could travel to London whenever she pleased. She would spend the busiest
