Chapter 21 #2
"Experience?" she suggested wryly. "Good things in my life tend to come with complications."
"Like me?"
"You're not a complication," she said, then amended, "Well, you are, but the best kind. The kind that makes everything else worthwhile."
He lifted her hand to his lips. "Such romantic words. However do you manage to make me sound like a beneficial mathematical theorem?"
"Would you prefer poetry? Roses and moonlight and all that?"
"From you? I'd prefer honesty. Which you've just given me." He kept her hand in his as the carriage rolled on. "We're going to be happy, you know. Unconventionally, complicatedly happy."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
They found Thornbury in his office, practically bouncing with excitement. The usually composed scholar resembled nothing so much as an enthusiastic child who'd discovered a particularly interesting game.
"Miss Whitcombe! Your Grace! Perfect timing!" He gestured them to chairs, though he remained standing, too energized to sit. "The most wonderful development. Your preliminary findings on the Byzantine collection—I shared them with Lord Hastings at the Royal Society."
"Without my permission?" Eveline felt a flash of concern.
"Oh! No, not the details. Just the general theory about regional variations. He was intrigued...no, more than intrigued. He wants to fund an expanded project."
"Expanded how?" Adrian asked, his hand finding Eveline's again.
"A comprehensive survey of Byzantine manuscripts across multiple collections.
Six months fully funded, with a team of assistants and travel budget for examining collections in Oxford, Cambridge, even Edinburgh.
" Thornbury finally sat, leaning forward eagerly.
"Miss Whitcombe, this could revolutionize our understanding of medieval manuscript transmission. "
"It's... enormous," Eveline managed. "The scope alone would require..."
"A project director with vision, expertise, and innovative methodology," Thornbury finished. "In other words, you."
"The board has agreed to this?"
"Hastings's funding comes with influence. The board is delighted at the prospect of the museum leading such significant research." He pulled out a folder. "The terms are generous. Lead researcher salary, publication rights, and the best part is complete autonomy in designing the project structure."
Eveline read through the proposal, her heart racing. It was everything she'd dreamed of; serious scholarly work, recognized and funded at the highest levels. But...
"The travel requirements," she said slowly. "Extended periods away from London. That could be complicated given..." She glanced at Adrian.
"Given our impending marriage?" Adrian supplied calmly. "I fail to see the difficulty. I've always wanted to tour the university libraries. Consider me your devoted assistant."
"You can't be serious."
"Why not? I have a tolerable understanding of Latin, excellent organizational skills, and I promise to carry all the heavy manuscripts." His smile was pure mischief. "Unless you'd prefer to leave me behind to pine dramatically?"
"Your Grace," Thornbury interjected, "while your enthusiasm is appreciated, this would be serious scholarly work. Not some sort of... honeymoon tour."
"Mr. Thornbury," Adrian's voice took on its ducal edge, "I hold a double first from Oxford and have published three monographs on classical history. I assure you, I understand the nature of scholarly work."
"You've published?" Eveline turned to stare at him. "You never mentioned..."
"Under a pseudonym. Ducal authority tends to overwhelm academic merit, so I chose anonymity." He shrugged. "The point is, I'm perfectly capable of contributing to serious research. If you'll have me."
"This is highly irregular," Thornbury muttered.
"Everything about our situation is irregular," Eveline said firmly. "But if Lord Hastings wants innovation, why not start with our project structure? Two lead researchers, complementary expertise, shared vision."
"You're suggesting a partnership?" Thornbury's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.
"I'm suggesting we stop pretending brilliant women must work alone to be taken seriously," Adrian said. "Eveline's insights drive the project. I provide support, additional perspectives, and yes, the social weight of a ducal title when useful. Partnership."
Thornbury looked between them, and Eveline could see him recalculating. "It would be unprecedented."
"Good," Eveline said. "Precedents need setting. Women scholars shouldn't have to choose between professional advancement and personal happiness."
"Well." Thornbury shuffled his papers. "I suppose I could present it to Hastings as an innovative approach. Two perspectives, double the analytical power..."
"Exactly. And think of the practical advantages. Shared note-taking, cross-referencing observations, built-in peer review." Eveline was warming to the idea. "We could accomplish twice as much in the same time frame."
"You're both quite serious about this?"
"Completely," they said in unison.
Thornbury sighed, but Eveline caught the smile tugging at his lips. "Very well. I'll draft a revised proposal for Lord Hastings. Though I warn you, this will raise eyebrows."
"Excellent," Adrian said cheerfully. "Raised eyebrows mean people are paying attention."
They left the museum an hour later, having hammered out preliminary details. Eveline's mind was spinning with possibilities; manuscripts to examine, theories to test, discoveries waiting to be made. And through it all, Adrian beside her, partner in every sense.
"You didn't have to do that," she said as they settled back in the carriage. "Offer to be my assistant. Your life doesn't have to revolve around my work."
"First, I offered to be your partner, not assistant.
Second, my life revolves around you whether we're working together or not, so I might as well be useful.
" He pulled her against his side. "Besides, I meant what I said.
I've missed real scholarly work. Estate management is necessary but hardly intellectually stimulating. "
"You really published monographs?"
"'Tactical Evolution in the Peloponnesian War,' 'Religious Syncretism in Roman Britain,' and 'Economic Factors in the Fall of the Republic.'" He grinned at her expression. "What? Did you think I just read Herodotus for decoration?"
"I thought... I don't know what I thought." She turned to face him more fully. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you fell in love with me despite thinking I was an idle aristocrat. It seemed important to know you wanted me for myself, not my scholarly credentials."
"Adrian Blackburn," she said slowly, "are you telling me you have hidden depths?"
"Oceans of them. Wait until you discover my secret passion for Byzantine pottery." At her startled look, he laughed. "Jesting. My ceramic interests lean more toward Greek red-figure work."
"This is absurd. I'm marrying a closet scholar who's been pretending to be a dilettante."
"While I'm marrying an open scholar who's been pretending she doesn't need anyone." He kissed her temple. "We're well matched in deception."
"Everything's changing so fast," she said, voicing the thought that had been building all day. "This morning I was terrified of losing myself in marriage. Now we're planning joint research projects and you're revealing secret academic credentials."
"Second thoughts?"
"No." She was surprised by her own certainty. "No, this feels... right. Unexpected but right."
"Good. Because Harwick will have those contracts ready for signature tomorrow, and I'd hate to waste such innovative legal work."
They arrived back at Everleigh Manor to find Morrison in the library, practically vibrating with his own news.
"The palimpsest!" he exclaimed before they'd even removed their coats. "I've found a way to reveal the undertext without damaging the manuscript. Professor Melville wrote back with a new technique using specialized lighting rather than chemicals."
"That's wonderful, Morrison," Eveline said, caught up in his enthusiasm. "When can we try it?"
"I've arranged to borrow the necessary equipment from the Royal Society. If His Grace approves, we could attempt it tomorrow."
"Consider it approved," Adrian said. "This calls for celebration. Champagne in the library seems appropriate."
"At four in the afternoon?" Eveline protested.
"We're revolutionaries, remember? Traditional timing is for traditional people."
Soon they were toasting Morrison's discovery, the Byzantine project, and what Adrian insisted on calling "the most sensible engagement in history."
"To partnership," Morrison offered, raising his glass. "In all its forms."
"To precedent-breaking," Eveline countered.
"To translation," Adrian added with a meaningful look at her. "Of texts, of hearts, and of traditions into something entirely new."
They drank, and Eveline felt the bubbles match the effervescence in her chest. Everything was changing, indeed, but not in the fearful way she'd anticipated. Instead, each change opened new possibilities, new ways of being both herself and part of something larger.
"I should go," Morrison said as the clock chimed five. "But thank you for including me in your celebrations. It means more than you know."
"You're family, Morrison," Adrian said simply. "Scholarly family, but family nonetheless."
The young man flushed with pleasure, gathering his notes with renewed purpose. "Until tomorrow, then. We'll reveal what's been hidden for centuries."
After he left, Eveline and Adrian sat in comfortable silence.
"Regrets?" Adrian asked softly.
"None," she replied, surprising herself again with the certainty. "Questions, concerns, a fair amount of terror at the magnitude of what we're attempting, but no regrets."
"What terrifies you most?"
She considered. "That I'll wake up and this will all have been a dream. That I'll be back in my lodgings, facing a future of diminishing options and growing desperation."