27. One Ring, Two Lovers
Chapter Twenty-Seven
One Ring, Two Lovers
A minute later in the Kingston House parlor
Seated on the front edge of the velvet settee, Catherine stared at the flames in the fireplace. Her heart raced at the thought of what was happening in her father’s study one story below.
A man to whom she had given her virtue was signing a document that would secure his future and hers.
Momentary panic at the reminder she would be a married woman had her heart racing.
Giving up her independence as a spinster in favor of a life as a wife, possibly a mother, and most definitely a countess had her feeling even more nervous.
When she heard Matthew’s approaching footsteps, she was sure her vision was graying at the edges. That is, until she heard his greeting.
“Congratulation, Miss Kingston.”
Confused, she turned her gaze on him and watched as he bowed before he rushed to stand before her and lift a hand to his lips.
“Congratulations?” she repeated.
“Of course. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be a publisher,” he said happily. He sat next to her, not giving up his hold on her left hand.
“Oh,” she breathed, tittering softly. Relief settled over her, and her heart rate slowed. “You will be as well,” she said. “Your name will be on the shingle.”
“Or it could just be yours.” He held out a hand, his forefinger and thumb angled in an L as he swept it through the air. “Catherine Kingston Publishing,” he suggested. “Novels for your reading enjoyment.”
“I rather doubt I could sell anything to bookshops if they know I’m a woman,” she countered. “Far better to stick with ‘Kingston and Higby,’” she added. “But thank you for the vote of confidence.”
“As long as I get to read the manuscripts that come in,” he said. “I may never have to buy another book again.”
She watched as he used his right hand to dig something out of his waistcoat pocket. “Did you find more of the money your mother hid?” she asked, thinking he was fishing for a coin.
“I did,” he replied. “But I also found something much better.” He held up the sapphire and diamond ring he had discovered in his mother’s jewel box.
“Belongs to you, I believe,” he said, straightening her hand with his before he slid the gold band on her finger.
“Along with a number of other jewels I think will look splendid on you should we ever attend a ton ball or the opera,” he added. “Or a literary soirée.”
Catherine gasped as she stared at the ring. “It’s gorgeous. Oh, Matthew,” she breathed, before she bestowed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
“I do hope you’ve changed your mind about marrying me,” he murmured.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you had changed your mind, given my reaction this morning,” she said.
“I was told not to include my title when introducing myself,” he explained. “On the one hand, I regret it—”
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“—but on the other, I must admit, I’m rather chuffed you would find me worthy of being your husband when you merely thought me a member of the landed gentry, and a poor one at that.”
She grinned and dipped her head. “What was I thinking?” she teased.
“Mayhap the plot of a novel?” he suggested. “A pauper who is secretly an earl desires to wed a bluestocking rather than a blue blood, and not only because of her sizable marriage portion, but because he fell in love with her at first sight. In a bookshop.”
Catherine tittered. “No one would believe it,” she claimed.
Matthew scoffed, his expression serious. “Why ever not?” he asked.
Sobering slightly, she said. “Surely you’ve read enough novels to know that fiction has to be believable,” she replied.
Blinking several times, he lifted her hand to his lips and once again kissed the back of it. “I’d buy it,” he said. “Especially if it included the details of their first night together.” He waggled his brows.
Feeling the heat of a blush coloring her face, Catherine’s gaze darted to the door to be sure they were still alone. “About that…”
“Yes?” he prompted.
“I was thinking I should measure that salon so I might place an order for furnishings on the morrow,” she murmured. “Mayhap invite myself to dinner so I can discover if your cook is any good, and then familiarize myself with my new bedchamber.”
Matthew’s grin lit his face as he chuckled. “Ah, I do believe you need to have your lady’s maid pack a valise this very minute,” he said. “You’re coming home with me, Lady Wingfield.”
She kissed him on the mouth, one hand held to his cheek as she explored his teeth with her tongue, relishing the sounds he made at the unexpected act of affection.
When she finally ended the kiss and pulled away, she watched as his eyelids fluttered open. “Did I do it right?” she asked in a whisper.
He blinked again and chuckled. “I don’t think there’s a wrong way.”
“Now there you go again with unbelievable plot points,” she accused.
“It’s my story,” he countered.
She sighed contentedly. “Our story,” she whispered.