Chapter Twelve #2
The door of the study opened with a bang, and Julia rushed in. “Hanson said you returned. Is Peter well?”
His mother and Hazel stood behind her. The interruption rendered him speechless. He stepped away from Kitty.
Julia drew her brows together in alarm. “Oliver?”
Finally, he shook his head. “He’s fine. Carrington is taking care of him, and they will be back in the city by the end of the week.”
“I’m so glad to hear that,” his mother said. Julia nodded but said nothing. Hazel glanced around at all of them. “Is something amiss? Are you feeling worse, Kitty?”
Kitty flushed but didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at him, her expression somehow frantic.
It wasn’t only him to whom she’d been lying, apparently. Although he wasn’t sure she’d actually lied to him; she just hadn’t told him what she’d been doing, and with whom. He raised an eyebrow at his wife and said, “Kitty told me she is doing much better.”
Hazel beamed at her. “Well, you missed a lovely ball. I danced with several lords. I’m smitten with them all.”
His mother’s gaze bounced back and forth between him and Kitty. “Did we interrupt something?”
Oliver and Kitty stared at one another. She glanced nervously at his mother, his sister, and Hazel. A surge of protectiveness flared in him. Oliver shook his head. “No.”
His mother looked at them skeptically and then told Julia and Hazel, “Let’s go to the kitchen and get a treat before bed.”
The girls darted off, rushing towards the back of the townhouse. His mother smiled. “I’m glad you are home, Oliver.”
Once she was gone, he turned back to Kitty, who now paced back and forth, probably, he assumed, so he couldn’t trap her against the wall again. “I want you to know. It isn’t a man. I would never. I love you and only you, Oliver.”
“But you would keep something from me.”
Her lower lip trembled. “It means a great deal to me.”
His heart cracked more at her words. Whatever this was, his wife thought it was better not to share it with him.
“What is it?” he demanded again.
“The bookshop…my printing press and publishing house…it has another stream of revenue besides the books you’ve seen there.”
His brows drew together in confusion. What was she talking about? “What do you mean?” Were there more pirate books?
Kitty walked to the sideboard and poured a brandy. She took a large sip. He stared at her. This was a night of many firsts. Oliver had never seen his wife drink brandy and didn’t expect her to do so with such ease.
Apparently fortified by liquid courage, she straightened her shoulders then and said, “Most of the revenue my family makes is from the printing and selling of illicit books.”
Illicit books? He blinked, and then her meaning dawned upon him, and it became clear. That was why she’d had the how-to sex book in her room!
He grabbed his own brandy and took a drink. Her words filled him with relief. She wasn’t hiding an affair or a lover.
“So then. That’s explained. But it doesn’t tell me where you were,” he said.
She frowned. “My uncle is blackmailing me. I paid him off tonight. He threatened to reveal the truth to you and London society.”
Fury shot through him. It wasn’t bad enough that his wife was in danger and he’d been oblivious, but the fact that it was a relative of hers who would put her in harm’s way made his blood boil in his veins. “Where is he?”
She rushed to him and grabbed his hand. “Oliver, you don’t have to—”
“No one will threaten my wife,” he snapped.
Kitty stroked his face. “I want to explain it all to you.”
“I will handle your uncle, and we will find a way to shut down that portion of the business with no one any wiser.”
Her hand dropped, and she stepped away, frowning at him. “I can’t stop printing and selling illicit books.”
“Kitty, there will always be a chance you can be blackmailed.”
“But women rely on what we publish,” Kitty insisted.
“I’m sure there are other ones who can provide the same material,” he said, confused by her growing anger.
She took another sip of her drink and then slammed the glass on the table. “I will not shut it down.”
His own anger started to build as well. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time, and now you won’t even consider my suggestion?”
Kitty faced him head on. “You know nothing about the market, or its value to readers, so how can you make any informed recommendations?”
He threw his arms out. “You’ve never mentioned it! Maybe that is why I don’t know about the value of what are, ultimately illicit—and illegal!—books.”
They stared at each other, and for the first time, Kitty felt like a complete stranger to him. Did she feel the same about him?
A tentative knock on the door caused them both to jump. Oliver said, “Enter.”
His mother opened the door and stepped in, looking at them with concern. “The girls and I heard raised voices. Perhaps this discussion can be continued in the morning?”
Kitty nodded. “Agreed. Thank you, Eloise. I will make my way to my bedchamber.”
She slipped away into the hall without looking back at him. Oliver watched her leave. His mother asked, “What happened?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “The bookshop sells illicit books.”
His mother strolled around the room. “My lady’s maid mentioned that to me.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
His mother shrugged. “We all have our secrets, Oliver. I figured with how well things were going, it would come out eventually. Why is she angry?”
“Why are you not upset she lied to me?”
“I’m sure she has a reason. What I’m concerned about is why she is angry.”
“I mentioned shutting it down.”
His mother sighed and reached for one of the glasses of brandy on the table, and took a sip. “Lords are such bossy men.”
“What else is there to do?”
She walked to him and patted him on the chest. “Learn and not demand. Just a suggestion, my son. Start again tomorrow. People say never go to bed angry. I say go to bed because you are only pretending not to be angry.”
His mother put the glass back down and left the study.
Oliver sank into his chair. He wanted to wrap Kitty in his arms, but part of him was also angry at her secrecy.
And the fact that she’d paid off her uncle infuriated him.
Did she really trust Oliver so little? He took another sip of his drink, realizing he didn’t care much about the fact that she sold illegal books.
No, what hurt and angered him was that he felt like he wasn’t sure if he knew the real Kitty.
Who was his wife if she was hiding one of the most important parts of herself?