Chapter 21

21

About ten minutes later,the Seaton carriage rolled down Cheapside, and Joanna peered out the window. The shop fronts lining the street were opening their shutters, revealing displays of fabrics, household goods, and other wares. Shopkeepers could be seen tidying their windows and arranging their merchandise in preparation for the day.

The buildings of Cheapside were a mix of old and new architecture. Timber frames and jettied upper stories leaned slightly towards the street with their facades a patchwork of wooden beams and plaster. The newer constructions were brickwork, with clean lines and symmetry. Often they were painted in pale hues, with larger sash windows. The latest buildings, some still under construction, were of neoclassical aesthetic with decorative elements like cornices and pediments.

Joanna shared the bench with the dowager, a talented conversationalist, who put her at ease despite Joanna’s uncertainty about the purpose of their trip. Spencer sat opposite them, contributing occasionally to the conversation.

Upon their arrival, Spencer helped her descend from the carriage by holding her hand, and a little thrill went through her at his touch. She took a breath and tried to pay attention as a man wearing an unassuming coat and pantaloons greeted them. He introduced himself as Mr. Pattison, the solicitor, and held a leather folder in his hands.

They stood in a busy part of Cheapside with a bank and several solicitor and accountant offices across the road. Offices of other businesses were housed in the nearby brown Georgian buildings with sash windows. She could see St. Mary-le-Bow Church five hundred or so feet down the street.

They approached a three-story building made of dark brick with white sash windows. There was no indication of what it was. Mr. Pattison unlocked the door and held it open for them.

“Please, follow me,” said Spencer as he walked towards the door.

“After you, my dear,” said the dowager with a kind smile that made her eyes sparkle.

“Thank you,” said Joanna and went inside. It was an empty expanse, with wooden floorboards and four columns. Stairs led to upper stories, the sash windows let in plenty of light, and two fireplaces on opposite sides of the large room would provide enough heat. The whole room had a sense of a clean, new beginning, something about it so airy and full of possibilities. What did Spencer have in mind for it? And why did he need her?

“As you see, Lord Spencer, it’s in very good condition. You won’t need to do much work for a newspaper. You could have your writers and editors here.” The man swept around with his arm. “And there is a large space in the back for printing presses and a warehouse for paper and for freshly printed newspapers.”

A newspaper?

Joanna’s throat clenched as Spencer looked at her, his eyes glistening with excitement and yet a question. A small smile played on his lips.

“Mr. Pattison has given up the surprise, I’m afraid,” murmured Spencer.

“And upstairs there are separate rooms for offices for the editor in chief, accountants, etcetera. Would you like to follow me?” he said as he walked towards the stairs.

“What do you think?” asked the dowager. “Do you approve of this for a newspaper?”

Joanna looked around as they climbed the large oak stairs. She could almost hear the scribble of pens against paper as journalists, writers, and illustrators worked on the upcoming issue, quietly discussing ideas and revisions.

“Oh yes, this would do,” she said, her eyes locking with Spencer’s warm gaze.

Indeed, upstairs were several doors with offices, some of them already outfitted with desks and chairs as well as bookcases.

As the solicitor kept talking about the advantages of having a newspaper in Cheapside, the dowager followed him, looking at the rooms to her left and right. When they disappeared from view, Spencer took Joanna by the hand and tugged her into one of the empty offices, hiding behind an open door.

“What do you think?” he asked as he backed her against the wall, his gaze hotly looking over her face.

“Spencer!” she whisper-shouted. “They could come in at any moment!”

“To hell with them,” he murmured as he lowered his head and kissed her neck. “Hmmm…how I missed your scent.”

A thrilling shiver ran through Joanna. “We only saw each other yesterday.” She giggled, inhaling his scent.

“Exactly. So what do you say, would you like your office to be this one?”

He gave her one kiss and then another, his hot breath scalding her skin. She closed her eyes, the pleasure of having his lips against her body spinning her head. Then the meaning of his words began registering with her. Her office?

“Hm?” she asked, momentarily sober, leaning back away from him.

“This is your newspaper for women,” he said as his lips began to nibble her neck, sending shudders through her.

“My what?” she cried out, a little too loudly, and Spencer leaned back, eyeing her.

“I put an offer in yesterday,” he said, still holding her captive between his hands, which were pressed against the wall, “and it was accepted. I bought it in your name, Joanna.”

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t hear what he said.

“In my—?”

“In your name, yes,” he said. He left her proximity and looked back at the mahogany desk with a beautiful view of the street. “This could be your office. Editor in chief.”

At that moment, Joanna knew that she loved him. This was too much. Too much happiness, too much of an unnecessary but wonderful gift she couldn’t accept.

But she loved him.

While her uncle had robbed her and her family of a good life, this man, whom she had known for just over a week, had given her her dream.

No. This was too good to be true. She may love him, but, she reminded herself, he could betray her. He might still push her to the side and start a criminal case to get Ashton to hang, and then her family would lose everything.

“I can’t accept this, Spencer.”

“Yes, you can,” he said softly as he walked to her and kissed her lips, gently running his knuckles down her cheek. “It’s already yours. Mr. Pattison was just going to give you the keys and the deed.”

“The deed—”

A man didn’t simply buy a building and give it to a woman he’d known for barely more than a week…a woman who’d been his rival!

And, perhaps, still was.

A woman who had no experience running a newspaper, no name in the industry, and who was still hiding behind a man’s pen name!

She straightened her shoulders. Her head still spun. She had to pinch herself and wake up.

“I will repay you,” she said. “This is not a gift. It’s a loan. Nothing more.”

“No. I have plenty of money. I haven’t done much for others. But I can do this for you. It’s not a loan. Not an investment. It’s a gift, Joanna. Considering what I already took from you…”

As she stared into his beautiful eyes, she felt that she was truly at the center of his attention. And she would be at the center of many people’s attention if she were to accept this—which was still hard to imagine. She’d have to manage journalists, printers, and illustrators, to handle sales, make sure the paper met readers’ expectations…

And she’d have to find enough female writers to produce the columns!

Her chest expanded with joy and excitement as all those plans whirred in her mind in a waltz of thoughts and ideas. She would forever need to abandon her hiding place in the background. She could be making history…being the first newspaper in England to publish female writers exclusively!

Where would she even begin?

“What are your conditions, then?” she asked, raising her chin. “What do you want in return? You know I cannot pay you for this. Not right now, and not even if Gideon gets his inheritance. Even that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Like I said, Joanna. I have no conditions. I just want to take care of you. One day, we will part ways. And this will be my gift to you.”

One day they would part ways… Very soon, perhaps. He was not courting her. He was not introducing his family to her because he was interested in connecting their lives forever.

He had taken her virginity, but he was not going to marry her. This was his way of compensating her.

Didn’t he tell her he was a scoundrel?

And she loved him still, silly girl.

“This is too much, Spencer.”

He hoisted her onto the desk and pressed his lips against hers, then began softly kissing her face.

“It’s already done,” he murmured.

Her eyes prickled with tears of sadness as she let him kiss her, let his arms wrap around her.

This was a goodbye gift. A goodbye he wouldn’t say today.

But one day. Maybe soon.