14. Two Ices, One Surprise #2
Matthew glanced out the other window to see that the maple plane trees in Berkeley Square had already lost their leaves.
Despite the dark, he knew the knobby branches were displaying their distinctive patterned bark.
When he was younger, he had peeled it off to reveal the patches of white, tan, and gray beneath.
The spiky “button balls” that hung from the branches easily stuck to wool coats, which made them an excellent substitute for snowballs in the winter.
He chuckled softly at the memory of his nurse’s scolds and then quickly sobered when he noticed snowflakes were dancing about in the light from the coach lantern.
“It’s still snowing,” he warned.
“Your driver has managed to find a spot rather close to the tea shop,” she countered. “I’ll be fine.”
The door opened and Matthew was quick to step out and offer his hand as Catherine exited the equipage. At the same time, the door to the tea shop opened and several patrons filed out, rushing off to their coaches.
Matthew held the door for Catherine, happy to discover there were a few empty tables in the establishment. “Let’s sit towards the back. It will be warmer,” he suggested. A waiter waved to a round table for two set against the wall.
Although Catherine took only a passing glance at the menu board the waiter presented, Matthew studied the options far longer. “I seem to remember there was an ice flavored with Gruyere cheese,” he murmured.
“There still is,” she said. “And one with Parmesan,” she added, wrinkling her nose.
“Are you still pining for the bergamot and pear?” he asked.
She grinned. “I am. Should you be hungry, I would not mind if you got a sandwich.”
“I would hate to eat in front of you,” he argued.
“I would hate for you to go hungry because my schedule didn’t allow us to do this earlier in the day,” she countered.
“Very well.” He motioned to the waiter, who hurried over. Matthew gave him their order and added cups of tea. Once they were alone again, he asked, “Have you given my… proposal any thought?”
Catherine dipped her head and sighed. “Of course. I must say I find it difficult to believe.”
“But why?” he asked in surprise.
“We’ve only known one another a day… two days,” she amended. “And you’re suggesting I start my own company without knowing anything about me. About my skills—”
“You’re a librarian,” he stated. “A daughter of a publisher. You must know all there is to know about books. About how books are made?”
She blinked several times. “I suppose I do,” she agreed.
“And, most importantly, this business will have to be funded entirely by your dowry,” he said, wincing at the reminder he would require a chunk of it to pay off his debts.
Given it could be another year or so before he could count on a decent harvest to pay the current bills and his tenant farmers, he wouldn’t be able to begin rebuilding her dowry for perhaps another year after that.
“I will see to it your marriage portion is… paid back, of course. Once the farms have recovered.”
Catherine watched as the waiter set their cups of tea on the table along with a sugar pot and a small pitcher of milk. “You’ve given this a good deal of thought,” she said quietly.
“It’s all I’ve thought about of late,” he replied, his face heating at the reminder that he had been thinking of her, too. Her, naked in his bed. Her body tucked against his. Her curly red hair splayed over the pillow.
“I’ll need a… a place for an office.”
Pulled from his brief reverie, Matthew nodded. “I have a townhouse here in London. There’s a ground floor salon that might suit, and we can create one for you in the house in…” He paused when he saw how Catherine’s eyes widened. “What is it?”
“You would allow your wife to own a business… to run a business from your home?” she asked in disbelief.
He shrugged. “Whatever would make you happy,” he replied. “You are the one doing me the favor, after all.” He paused as the waiter set their orders before them, and Catherine thanked the man before she gave Matthew a tentative grin.
“Bon appétit,” she said, lifting a spoon to take a taste of her ice.
“Is it as good as you remember?” he asked, forced to take a bite of his sandwich or he would be caught watching how she displayed her pleasure. He wondered if when he made love to her, would she appear as satisfied—as happy—as she did just then?
“Every bit as good,” she affirmed with a grin.
He nodded. “I suppose I should ask about what you’ll need for the publishing company. Machines, staff… what sort of help you’ll require.”
Catherine seemed to think on the subject before she said, “Well, there are a number of companies who already exist to do parts of it. Print shops, binderies, drayage,” she replied.
“At first, I would simply employ them to actually produce the books, and then if—no, when—sales allow it, I might begin acquiring my own printing press and other equipment. Bring the work in house, so to speak.”
Matthew nodded his understanding. “What about staff? Surely you’ll need a secretary,” he suggested.
She was about to take another bite of her ice, but she paused.
“I am perfectly capable of writing my own letters, but you are right. I will need to announce I am in business and then ensure authors learn of my existence. Some advertisements will need to appear in places they inhabit—coffee shops and clubs, for example.” She paused and sighed.
“I’ll have to host dinner parties, of course, and read manuscripts.
Decide if I wish to publish them or not. ”
Matthew began to feel more excitement for this idea than anticipated. “Could I do that, too, do you suppose? Read the manuscripts, I mean?”
Tittering, Catherine said, “I adore your enthusiasm.”
Feeling heat suffuse his face—her words had him feeling embarrassed—Matthew dipped his head. “I am a voracious reader. The opportunity to become part of a book’s creation is quite fascinating to me,” he admitted.
“Well, I will appreciate a man’s opinion, of course. Especially for the books intended for the male sex.” She quirked a brow. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll necessarily agree.”
Blinking, Matthew settled back in his chair. “I would not force you to do anything other than what you feel would be right and proper,” he stated. “It will be your business.” He consumed the last of his sandwich, and the waiter was quick to remove his plate and deliver his Gruyere cheese ice.
“I appreciate your willingness to allow me a business,” she replied.
“I don’t expect it to be easy, though. As many years as my father has been a publisher, I have paid witness to all manner of mistakes and blunders.
” She paused, her expression suggesting she was remembering many of them. “Most were not in his control.”
“But you’re already aware of what can go wrong,” he murmured. “So… you’ll be better prepared,” he reasoned.
“True,” she acknowledged.
“So… what happens first?”
Catherine set aside her empty dish and sighed. “I suppose I should start by setting up an office. A place to hang my shingle, so to speak.”
Matthew leaned forward. “You can do so at my townhouse in South Audley,” he offered again. “In the salon on the ground floor. It has a window that faces west.” He paused a moment. “We could have a desk moved in there for you. You could run the business from there. At least as a start.”
Her eyes widened. “Could I see it sometime?”
Grinning, he leaned back and said, “You can see it tonight,” he replied. “Before I take you home, of course,” he quickly added, hoping it wouldn’t be too scandalous should anyone pay witness to her entering his home after dark. “If you’d like, I can show you the entire house.”
“Tonight?” she asked in shock.
Matthew swallowed. “Uh… why not?” he countered, before he gave his answer a second thought.
Damnation.