Chapter 21
The morning after accepting Adrian's proposal, or rather, agreeing to negotiate terms for a possible future acceptance, Eveline woke with a combination of elation and terror that made her stomach perform acrobatics.
She dressed with particular care, choosing her most professional attire as armor for what promised to be an interesting day.
"You're up early," Harriet, who had come early in the morning, observed from the doorway of Eveline's bedchamber, holding two cups of tea. "Guilty conscience or anticipation?"
"How did you...never mind." Eveline accepted the tea gratefully. "You always know everything."
"Morrison sent a note at an ungodly hour, practically vibrating with excitement through the page. 'Most wonderful news' and 'revolutionary partnership' featured prominently." Harriet settled on the bed, studying Eveline with sharp eyes. "So. You're engaged to be betrothed to negotiate a betrothal?"
"Something like that." Eveline sank into her dressing table chair. "Oh, Harriet, what am I doing? Yesterday everything made perfect sense, and now..."
"Now you're remembering all the reasons this is complicated?" Her friend's voice was gentle. "Tell me your fears."
"Where do I start? My work, my independence, my reputation...what's left of it. What if I become just another duchess, my scholarship forgotten in favour of social obligations? What if the contracts aren't enough to protect my interests? What if..."
"What if you're borrowing trouble that may never materialize?" Harriet interrupted. "Eveline, you're marrying Adrian Blackburn, not some traditional peer who expects a decorative wife. The man created an entire position just to recognize your abilities."
"I know, but..."
"But nothing. You love him?"
"Desperately."
"He loves you?"
"He seems to."
"He seems to?" Harriet's eyebrows rose. "The man looks at you like you personally hung all the stars in the sky. He's reshaping his entire life to accommodate your work. That's not 'seems to'...that's complete devotion."
Eveline worried at her lower lip, a habit that emerged when she was thinking hard. "What if love isn't enough? What if the practical complications..."
"Then you'll handle them as they arise." Harriet set down her teacup with decisive force. "Do you know what I see when I look at you two together? Partnership. Real, true partnership of minds and hearts. Do you know how rare that is?"
"But the social implications..."
"Will sort themselves out. You're already a scandal, darling. Might as well be a married scandal with financial security and a husband who worships your mind." Harriet's expression softened. "Don't let fear rob you of happiness. You've been brave about everything else, so be brave about this too."
***
An hour later, Eveline arrived at Everleigh Manor to find the library transformed into what appeared to be a legal office. Adrian sat at one end of the long table, Harwick at the other, and between them spread enough documents to paper the walls.
"Ah, Miss Whitcombe." Harwick rose, bowing correctly. "His Grace informed me we have a unique contract to draft. I've taken the liberty of preparing some preliminary documents based on his specifications."
"Our specifications will be joint," Eveline said firmly, taking her seat. "I have my own requirements."
"Excellent." Harwick's eyes gleamed with what could only be described as legal excitement. "I do so enjoy a challenging negotiation. Shall we begin?"
What followed was three hours of the most intense negotiation Eveline had ever experienced.
Every clause was examined, debated, refined.
Her rights to publish under her own name were guaranteed.
Her income from all professional positions would be retained separately.
Her freedom to accept new positions or opportunities were also protected.
"The townhouse in Bloomsbury," Adrian said during a break for tea. "I thought you might want your own space for work. Somewhere you can retreat when the ducal obligations become too much."
"My own house?" Eveline stared at him.
"Every scholar needs a sanctuary. It's close to the British Museum, has excellent light for detailed work, and comes with a small staff who understand the importance of not disturbing someone deep in translation." He smiled at her expression. "Consider it a wedding gift."
"Adrian, that's..."
"Practical," he interrupted. "You'll need space for your assistants, your research materials, somewhere to work without my distracting presence."
"You're not that distracting," she protested.
"Yesterday you spent twenty minutes staring at my hands while I was writing correspondence."
"That's... an exaggeration." Though not by much. He did have exceptionally attractive hands.
"The point is," Harwick interjected diplomatically, "His Grace is ensuring you maintain professional autonomy even within marriage. The Bloomsbury property would be held in your name alone."
"In my name," she repeated, still processing. "Adrian, do you understand what you're suggesting? A married woman owning property independently?"
"I understand perfectly." His gaze was steady. "I'm suggesting we create the marriage we want, not the one society expects. If that means separate properties and independent incomes and contracts that would make traditional peers faint, so be it."
"This clause about children," Eveline said, finding her voice as they returned to the documents. "It seems..."
"Excessive?" Harwick supplied. "His Grace was quite specific. Any children would not supersede your professional obligations. Nurses, tutors, whatever support necessary to ensure your work continues unimpeded."
"Adrian..."
"Don't look at me like that," he said. "I've seen what motherhood does to brilliant women. Reduces them to nothing but nursery supervisors. If we have children, wonderful. But they won't become your sole purpose for existing."
"Most men want heirs above all else."
"I'm not most men." He reached across the table to take her hand. "I want you. Everything else is negotiable."
They worked through lunch, refining terms that would have scandalized proper society. By mid-afternoon, they had a document that looked more like a business partnership than a marriage contract and which, Eveline reflected, was rather the point.
"There's one more thing," she said as Harwick prepared to draft the final version. "The name."
Both men looked at her with confusion.
"I want to keep publishing under Whitcombe," she clarified. "My work, my reputation; it's all under that name. I can't lose it."
"Of course," Adrian said immediately. "Publish under whatever name you choose."
"Actually," Harwick interjected, "there might be an elegant solution. Hyphenation is becoming more common. Whitcombe-Blackburn perhaps? It maintains your professional identity while acknowledging the marriage."
"Eveline Whitcombe-Blackburn." She tested the sound of it. "It's rather a mouthful."
"It's rather perfect," Adrian countered. "Both names, both identities, joined but not subsumed."
"And for social occasions?"
"Whatever you prefer. Duchess of Everleigh when you must, Miss Whitcombe when you're teaching Morrison, Her Grace for others and Mrs. Whitcombe-Blackburn when you're confusing traditionalists." His smile was wicked. "I particularly look forward to the last."
Morrison chose that moment to appear, knocking with his now-characteristic excess of caution.
"Come in, Morrison," Adrian called. "Unless you're planning to knock down the door."
The young man entered, flushing slightly. "I didn't want to interrupt anything... personal."
"Just negotiating the terms of our future marriage," Eveline said, enjoying his expression. "Adrian's agreed to let me maintain all my professional positions and publish under my own name."
"Let you?" Adrian looked affronted. "I'm not 'letting' you do anything. I'm creating structures to ensure no one can stop you."
"Of course that's how it would be," Morrison said earnestly. "Anything else would be a tragedy. Imagine silencing a mind like Miss Whitcombe's for the sake of convention."
"Imagine indeed," Adrian murmured, his eyes on Eveline holding promises of exactly how much he valued her mind...among other attributes.
"Speaking of positions," Morrison continued, apparently oblivious to the charged look, "Mr. Thornbury sent word. He needs to speak with you about the Byzantine project. Something about additional funding?"
"Additional funding?" Eveline straightened. "He mentioned the board had approved the initial proposal."
"I believe there have been developments. He seemed quite excited." Morrison pulled out a note. "He asks if you could call at the museum at your earliest convenience."
"I could go now," Eveline said, already reaching for her portfolio.
"We're not quite finished here," Adrian reminded her. "The contracts..."
"Can be refined based on our discussion. Harwick has the essentials, haven't you?"
"Indeed," the solicitor confirmed. "I'll draft a clean copy for your review, Miss Whitcombe. Though I must say, these are the most interesting marriage contracts I've ever prepared."
"I should come with you," Adrian said as Eveline gathered her things. "To the museum."
"Because you're suddenly interested in Byzantine manuscripts?"
"Because I'm interested in everything that interests you." He rose, catching her hand. "Also because I want to be there for whatever Thornbury's news might be."
They left Morrison and Harwick to their respective tasks, taking Adrian's carriage through London's busy streets. Eveline found herself fidgeting with her gloves, nervous energy making stillness impossible.
"What's troubling you?" Adrian asked, because of course he'd noticed.
"What if Thornbury's news is bad? What if the board has reconsidered, decided a woman consultant is too controversial?"
"Then we'll find other venues for your work. But Eveline, why would you immediately assume the worst?"