Chapter 16 #2
She wanted to protest, to recommend he commence with the aforementioned groveling; but the feel of his smooth hands without the barrier of gloves put out some of that testy fire rising inside of her rather than stoking it.
“Do you remember when I came to stay at Brookevale Park…after my grandfather died? We had that awful tutor and yet you insisted on taking lessons with us while we were on holiday from school. Really, a holiday from school and you were excited about the prospect of learning,
” he convulsed as though the thought of academia gave him a touch of the vapors.
He continued. “I’d have thought you were unhinged if you weren’t so adorable. Anyway, the tutor asked us to do a creative writing exercise and you wrote that clever little story about the princess that avenges her prince after he was carried away by dragons.
The prince was handsome and vain and quite lacking for intellect and when I complained about it, you said: “Fine. I’ll name him after you, then.” No woman has ever put me in my place quite so handily.”
Noelle gave a small little harumph that twisted the corners of her mouth into a reluctant smile.
When she didn’t speak, he asked, “Is that it? No, ‘I find that last part hard to believe, Fitz’ or ‘you deserved it, Fitz’? Must really be an off day for you, princess. Tell me.”
She turned so that she was facing him eye-to-eye, her hands still in her lap clutching his as a talisman that gave her courage. “All your life, everywhere you go, you attract all this attention not for your merits or your talents; but because of your titles and your charm and your good looks.”
Her heart hiccupped at the contact as one finger of his drew little patterns on hers.
“I don’t want any of that. I just want to know what it’s like, for one day, to not be told by my interfering and infuriating older brother to be quiet and be content with what I have because others have it far worse. I want people to read my work and judge me based on my talent.”
“I find one small discrepancy with that, princess.”
She raised a brow at him. He let go of her hands, crossed his hands at his chest and stretched his long legs out in front of him.“You do attract attention for your charm and talent and good looks.”
She threw her hands up in exasperation and stood to leave; but he stilled her with a hand on her arm.
She stood still and expectant in front of him, looking down at him for an explanation.
He looked at her with eyes that roamed the entire length of her, leaving heat impressions everywhere his eyes incinerated as they went.
Fitz’s warm fingers traipsed tender trails across hers. “I’m sorry. I want to hear more. Please go on.”
“I’ve been corresponding with Her Majesty, Queen Victoria…” Those blue eyes sharpened, narrowed into a piercing focus; but she steadied herself and continued. “She encourages me to write, to…to not give up on the things that bring me joy.”
“I’ve always thought her wise beyond her years,” he smiled no ordinary smile at her. “So what stops you?”
“It all sounds well and grand in theory, but…there isn’t currently a publishing house in England that wants to publish a work by a woman for other women. At least not one that will have me or Adelaide.”
“Couldn’t you simply write and ask Queen Victoria to help you get your writing published? Since she’s the one who encouraged you in the first place? It would only take the work of a well-placed word from her to set you in good stead.”
“That’s your solution? Ask Her Majesty?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know unless you try.”
She shook her head. “This is hopeless.” She crossed her arms in front of her, his eyes immediately darted in the direction of her breasts. She cleared her throat, and he looked back up to her eyes.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, something in his tone causing her to stand up straighter.
“I’ve been nothing but honest with you. You’re withholding something from me again. I can feel it.” He took one of her hands again, and his thumb traced a pattern along her palm.
“My clever girl,” he smiled softly to himself, “I can’t hide from you, so I suppose I’ll stop trying.”
“What would be the fun in that?” she countered, squeezing her fist tight around his fingers. His eyes flew to hers, holding her gaze with burning directness.
“Because I came here today with a large problem on my hands and I think we just may be of some use to one another, princess.”
“Which is?”
Fitzwilliam Pomfrey stood slowly and paced in front of her with his arms behind his back.
As he did so, his eyes admired the graceful slope of her shoulders, the way her hair swept up into her coiffure left only a small intentional curl at the nape of her neck like a lone soldier, and lastly, her slender hips.
“My inheritance from my father has been in trust, held by my grandmother and aunts on my mother’s side. They’ve been the ones who hold all the purse strings.”
Inwardly, Noelle gave a little laugh at this vacuous lordling being controlled by a small faction of astute old ladies. She was riveted. But another thought occurred to her.
“What about the Dowager Viscountess?”
“My mother…is unwell. She set aside funds and property of her own for me, but those were leveraged for her convalescence.”
Noelle blinked. She wouldn’t think about her own mother’s suffering and how hard it was watching a loved one in decline. Instead, she asked, “So the current problem with your inheritance is….?”
“The money and lands and estates I inherited have been in trust until my 25th birthday…or until I decide to do two things. The first is to take a wife. My father also wanted me to run my grandfather’s publishing house. I have to take on an active role, attend meetings, acquire new talent,
come to the office, that sort of thing.”
“Unbelievable…you are insufferable,” She poked him in the chest.