Since William had been considering marriage of late, Lord Winchester would be the man to approve or disapprove when he came with a request for his daughter’s hand in marriage. He would have to tread very carefully here.
“Lady Amy tells me her publisher is requiring her to appear at some book fair.” Lord Winchester waved his hand around in a sign of dismissal.
Since that was not a question, William merely nodded and looked longingly at his empty brandy glass. He could use a bit more, facing the interrogation.
“I have the perfect solution, but my daughter is not happy with the perfect answer.”
“Oh?” Here it comes.
“I suggested we hire someone—a man—to appear as this E. D. Burton person at the book fair and make everyone happy.”
William groaned inwardly. This would not make Amy happy, and in this case he had to agree with her. There was simply no easy way of getting out of this. Straightening his shoulders, he looked Winchester in the eye. “My lord, I find I cannot agree with you.”
Winchester’s brows rose. “Indeed?”
“Yes, sir. With all due respect, Lady Amy has worked hard on those books, and while she has abided by your wish to keep her identity private, I cannot support your idea, which would wipe out all her work and hand the accolades and praise for such fine books to an unknown man.”
Amy’s father stared at him for a few moments while William sweated it out. “Is that right?” Winchester gulped the last of his brandy.
William looked over at Amy, and the glow on her face and happiness in her eyes was worth whatever misfortune he had just brought down on his head.
“I have matters to attend to right now.” Lord Winchester stood and placed his glass on the table in front of him. “Enjoy your trip to the bookstore.” With those curt words, he strode from the drawing room, leaving Amy and William staring at each other.
“At least he didn’t have Stevens throw me out.” William stood and took Amy’s hand. “Let’s go before he changes his mind.”
Once they were settled in the carriage and on their way, Amy folded her hands and placed them in her lap. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. While I sympathize with your father in wanting to keep your identity hidden, I don’t agree with it.”
Her jaw dropped. “You don’t?”
William shook his head. “Not at all. There is no reason why you cannot take credit for your work. You are not the first woman to publish dark novels. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein comes to mind, along with books by Ann Radcliffe. And look at it this way, you are making inroads for other female authors to delve into the dark and dangerous.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you.”
Something deep inside him woke up then, and he knew at that moment that it would never go back to sleep again. He reached over and pulled Amy to his side, put his arm around her, and held her close.
It felt right.
The night was as dark and dreary as the pub looked. When they’d seen it the last time, it had been daylight, and even though the extra light had accentuated the bleakness, now, shrouded in darkness, the place looked downright ominous.
“I think we should have brought a gun.” Amy moved the window curtain aside and looked out at the building.
“I did.”
She turned back to him, her eyes wide. “You did? I thought you told me no guns.”
“No guns for you. Or for my mother, who also mentioned getting one.”
“Why can you have a gun and I cannot?”
William stepped out of the carriage and held out his hand for Amy to grasp. “Because I am trained in the use of guns. I keep my skills up by practicing.”
Before she could continue the argument, he ushered her down the path and into the pub. It was almost as dark inside as outside. Most tables were full, and William managed to secure one near the middle of the room.
There were small tables in the corners, their occupants not visible in the darkness. “This is sort of spooky.” Amy rubbed her palms up and down her arms. “I can’t imagine working in a place like this at nighttime.”
“I don’t want to imagine you working in a place like this at all. Or any place, for that matter. In that I agree with your father. Women should not leave their homes to work unless there is no other way to keep the family housed and fed.”
She grinned. “Aha. I notice you danced around that one quite nicely by saying not leave their homes to work.”
“Just so.” He winked at her and then looked around and immediately spotted Mrs. Johnson. He waved his hand, and she nodded that she would be right there. He didn’t think she recognized him from that distance; she was just acknowledging another impatient customer.
“What can I get ya?” Although she spoke to them, she looked around the room, no doubt seeing who she needed to take care of next.
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson.”
Her head snapped back, and she looked down at them. “Aren’t you the man who came to my house to see Patrick?” She didn’t look pleased.
“Yes, I am. I wonder if I could speak with you.”
She looked around and then said, “What can I get you?”
“Two ales.”
She walked off before he could say anything else.
“Was she that unfriendly when you met her earlier?” Amy asked.
“I wouldn’t say unfriendly as much as suspicious. But I imagine if I were a woman working in a place like this, it would make me a bit uncomfortable to have someone come into my place of work looking especially for me.”
Mrs. Johnson plunked the two glasses down on the table and skirted around the two of them to hurry off before William could say a word.
“I guess we wait to see if she
