Chapter 21

Near the end of their second day confined to the spacious, velvet squab of the traveling coach, Andromeda looked up from her book and said, "Perhaps I should marry Lord Bashton after all. He's quite generous, clearly well off, and certainly understands the comforts of a bit of luxury." The coach belonged to Bashton, and he'd insisted it transport them back to London with two drivers and two outriders. Unnecessarily opulent, but certainly less conspicuous than a man and woman dressed as a man riding side by side. And decidedly more comfortable.

Sitting across from her, Tristan, whose attention had also been between the pages of a book, snapped his head up, challenge in his eyes. "Try it, Captain, and I'll abduct you from the church, throw you across my shoulder, set you up in some Scottish cottage isolated from all civilization, and make love to you until you come to your senses."

He would, too. And it thrilled her. "If you do not wish me to try it, you should not paint such an… interesting picture."

He closed the book and placed it on the bench, then slowly crossed the distance between them to sit next to her. He leaned in so they were almost nose to nose. Her heartbeat quickened. They'd done nothing interesting since the night she'd snuck into his room. They'd slept. She'd hidden in the coach while he retrieved food, and they'd talked—about Alex, about the future. He was a breath away from her now, though, and surely almost two days of pent-up energy, two days of studying his long, strong frame stretched out so near, would surge up and bring their bodies together.

He tapped the side of her nose, kissed the tip of it, then gathered her into his arms, and leaned them into the corner of the coach with a sigh. "Andromeda, when will we know? Whether we must marry sooner rather than later?"

"Worried?"

"Not at all. I'll do what I must no matter what."

"What you must?"

"You know well what I mean, curse it. And must and want have never been so inextricably linked for me in my life. When?"

"Hm. Any day now, I suppose."

He exhaled and tightened his arms around her. "How many children do you want?"

"Six."

He barked a laugh that shook her into her own glee. "What is funny about that?"

"You answered so quickly, so surely. I like your decisiveness. Why six?"

"I would like a large brood. My mother had nine. And frankly, that seems excessive. But six sounds just right. And you?"

"Six sounds just right. Little big-eyed girls, all of them."

"I insist on at least two boys. You were an adorable child. I can tell. And Alex will be an exemplary role model."

Tristan snorted. "Oh, yes. He'll teach them how to find the best brandy and set coaches on fire in Hyde Park."

"Was rather impressive, that."

"Says you. I visited young Lord Bartholomew's father, the owner of the flaming coach, and I can assure you he was not impressed. I had to offer to pay for the coach and place an article highlighting the man's philanthropic endeavors in one of my papers."

"That's all?"

"It may have stopped his tongue from wagging, but how many can I stop?"

She wove her fingers with his. "Alex is improving. Have you considered showing him around your printshops? He's a curious boy, and I think he would enjoy seeing how things work." She tilted her head to peer at him. "All the children could go. June and Gertrude and Felicity, too. They would enjoy it."

He lifted their hands and kissed the back of hers. "If you wish."

"I've ideas for the Daily Current, too."

"Naturally you do. I'd like to hear them."

She turned then, lying against his torso, looking up at his scruff-roughened beautiful face. "You would?" Her heart swelled.

"Don't look so surprised, Captain." He kissed her forehead, held her tight. "You've a mind for business. You've run one for the last four years. I'd be a fool not to listen to you. Now I consider it, no wonder I fell for you."

She rested her cheek against his chest. "But truly, why did you fall for me? When? You said once that you chose me. Out of all my sisters—me. Why?"

His large hand stroked up and down her back. "I'm not sure when it started. The first time I saw you, I felt a… a click, very soft. Like the opening of a door. I can't name one thing, really. How you tended to your sisters or looked at me with intelligent eyes. How you seemed both soft and stern at the same time. The closer I get to you, the more little clicks I feel, new doors opening so I can peek deeper inside. Nothing but light there. And now I'm yours to move about, too."

Just how was a woman supposed to respond to that other than squeezing her eyes closed to hold back the tears. She squeezed him, too, and coughed the tight emotions in her chest away.

"Now you," he said against her ear. "You fell in love with me at first kiss, yes?"

"A little bit, yes. But… on second thought, no, not truly."

He grunted and tickled her ribs. clearly displeased.

She slapped his hands away with a laugh. "None of that. I certainly found you compelling after the kiss. Before then, really. But it wasn't until later that I began to fall in love. When I first saw you with your brother. When you brought me that book. More when you showed me the printing press. Every little moment like bricks in a wall building up to something like a… like a palace—grand, dreamlike."

"Bloody hell, we're such fools." But he kissed her temple.

They rocked together in the coach's cocoon until it began to slow, then move with frantic stops and lurches.

Andromeda pulled herself from his arms and peeked out the window. "We're in London."

He sat and ran his hands through his hair, pushing the thick locks back from his forehead. "Not long now. I'll have a word with your brother, then take Alex home."

It felt like a parting, and it dragged her limbs into heaviness. Not much more than nine months, then Alex could choose his guardian, and they could wed. And then, no matter what gossip got about, no one could force Alex away from Tristan. She leaned against his shoulder as the coach took them closer to the townhouse, and he held her hand, fingers interlocked, atop his hard thigh. As intimate as they'd been in the past month, this felt… more. More raw, more vulnerable, more real.

When the coach slowed to a stop and the townhouse appeared out the window, they shared shy smiles, then Tristan threw open the door before the coach driver could and helped Andromeda to the ground. He straightened his coat as best he could, and she smoothed her skirts. Useless gestures to propriety. They'd arrived together, after all, after four days' absence.

They approached the door side by side, heads held high.

"By the by," Tristan muttered. "What did you tell your brother? About where you went to?"

"We've a family friend north of London whose husband is ill. I told him I went to visit her. Or Lottie told him that. I left before he had a clue I was going anywhere."

"Schemer."

She swept into the house, and he followed into the empty entry hall.

"Should we speak to Samuel together?" she asked.

"Do you want to?"

"Not particularly. I'd like to be clothed in something other than wrinkles and dust when I face the duke."

"I'm always in wrinkles and dust, so I'll face him now."

"And ink." She picked up his hand and tugged him closer, placing a kiss on his knuckles. "I like your hands." Another kiss.

"They like you." He inhaled, leaned closer, stealing her breath and—

He pulled away with a muffled curse. "Not here. Not yet. The duke first." He squeezed her hand, then stomped down the hall to find her brother.

She swept upstairs in search of a bath and when she entered the hall—

"Annie!" Prudence appeared from her bedroom, and her enthusiastic greeting summoned the others. By the time Andromeda could take another step, seven warm smiles and fourteen eager arms of varying lengths and strengths swarmed her. June wrapped herself about Andromeda's legs.

"Well," Lottie asked. "Did you find him?"

Andromeda hooked one arm around Prudence's waist and the other around Felicity's and dragged them all toward her room. "Let me call for a bath, and I'll tell you everything." Almost everything. Some details belonged to her and Tristan only. Once they were snug inside the bedchamber, door closed, she told them everything in vague enough terms to keep the younger sisters from realizing her now-dissolved relationship with Bashton had not been of a romantic nature. They still did not know about the books, and it would be best if it remained that way.

The twins groaned.

"You've done it," Imogen said.

"Now that you're engaged, Samuel will expect the rest of us to follow suit," Isabella added.

Lottie tugged their ears, producing two matching high-pitched protests. "He already expected that, and please do congratulate your sister on her future happiness."

"Congratulations," they mumbled.

Andromeda shooed them out the door as the maids arrived with pails and two footmen carted in a large, bronze tub to set before the fire. The image sparked a memory of another large tub with a large masculine body in it, her hands sliding over firm muscle, soaping it, learning it.

"Are you happy?" Lottie asked, lingering in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I am. A bit worried perhaps."

"Naturally." Lottie's gaze dropped to her feet, then shot back up. "You spent much time alone with him in the coach. Were you cautious?"

She'd not even asked if she'd done anything to be cautious about. Merely assumed. And been right, of course.

"No."

"Andromeda! You know better. After all these years of hearing all those stories—the women of the ton caught again and again with child by abusive husbands or compromised into marriage or—"

"I wanted to be caught, Lottie. I love him. But we'll take precautions from now on. Unless I'm with child, our betrothal must be a long one."

"Another long betrothal?"

"Bashton's was fake."

"Still." Lottie sighed. "Very well. I'll leave you be now." But still she hesitated.

Andromeda's lady's maid untied her taps and slipped the gown from her body. Andromeda shucked the shift, though she usually bathed with it on.

"It's filthy," she said by way of explanation, watching the stiff line of Lottie's shoulders in the doorframe. She stepped into the tub and sank below the steaming water with a sigh. "Lottie."

Lottie pressed her chin into her shoulder to look behind her.

"Are you well? Has something happened?"

"Maybe. It's only that… I'm proud of you, Sister. You've unstuck yourself, and I… I think it's time I do the same."

Andromeda frowned, opened her mouth to speak, but Lottie waved the words away before they even met the air.

"We'll discuss it later. Enjoy your bath." Then she left.

And Andromeda scrubbed the dust and aches and worry from her body. She sank beneath the water like she'd sunk beneath the ocean waves and let her maid rinse the salt from her hair, wishing it were Tristan's fingers doing the work instead.

Footsteps pounding up the stairs, flying past, slamming into the floor above her head.

She jerked, looked up. "What's going on?"

"I can't say, my lady," Maria said.

Andromeda stood and stepped from the tub, sloshing water and grabbing the linen to dry herself quickly as best she could before throwing a clean shift over her head. "Quick. My gown. No stays."

Maria helped her dress, and then with no stockings to make her slide, Andromeda flew up the stairs, one of her sister's skirts brushing around the corner before her.

"What's happening?" she called out.

"I'm not sure." Prudence's voice, and she saw her sister rushing down the hall toward the nursery as she gained the top of the landing.

Andromeda rushed to catch up and found a room crowded. Everyone there—all seven sisters, Samuel, the two tutors, and Tristan.

Tristan with every muscle corded into stone. Tristan with wide, wild eyes. Tristan with fisted hands and a jaw of granite.

"What's happened?" she demanded.

Every head turned to stare, and Tristan's gaze found her first, splitting her heart in two.

She pushed through the crowded room to take his arm. "What's happened?"

"Lady Eldridge has taken Alex." Tristan spoke with barely a movement, barely a breath.

"Was he not supposed to?" Mr. Bainbridge asked.

"She's his aunt, yes?" Miss Marston added, retreating toward her fellow tutor.

"She is," Tristan ground out. He took off toward the door and shook his arm, as if to dislodge Andromeda.

She clung more tightly. "Where are you going?"

"To get Alex."

"I'll come with you."

"Andromeda." Samuel stepped before her, blocking her way forward. "You are not appropriately dressed."

Her hair streamed in wet rivulets down her already soaked gown. "I'll be just a moment to make myself presentable." That was important with Lady Eldridge.

"I'll go myself," Tristan said. "There's no reason for you to come." He finally looked at her, placed his hand atop hers on his arm and squeezed his warmth into her fingers. "I'll let you know when I've returned home with Alex."

"You think she'll let you…" She let her words trail off because she did not want to speak a nightmare into existence.

"She can't stop me from taking him home. I'm his guardian."

"You're right. It would be best if I waited here." Their engagement needed to be kept within family circles for the time being after all. Just in case.

He squeezed her hand one more time, then disappeared into the hall, leaving the Merriweather siblings in silence.

"Your Grace," Mr. Bainbridge said, "I did not know… Mrs. Bevins said his aunt had arrived to take him for tea, and I thought nothing of letting him go."

Samuel looked a bit like he wanted to growl, but he sighed instead and said, "You did not know. No one blames you. I'm sure no harm is done." He offered the man a smile, then swept from the room.

Andromeda and her sisters followed him in a line like a row of ruffled ducklings, one of whom had just taken a dip in the pond.

"I assume," he said, "Annie has told everyone the news?"

They nodded.

"And we're all happy for her?"

More nods.

"And you know this does not mean the eldest among you are exempt from—"

"Finding husbands," Lottie, Prudence, and the twins said in a variety of grumbling tones.

"Excellent." Samuel beamed at them. "Now you may all return to what you were doing before that disruption."

Her sisters did as they were asked, but Andromeda, hair dripping on the floor with each step, bounded down the stairs after their brother. "What did Tristan say to you?"

"He asked for your hand in marriage." Samuel pushed into his study. "He said you might require a long engagement. Or a special license. Depending on"—he glanced at her, his gaze dropping to her belly—"circumstances."

Hell and chaos, he'd told Samuel everything. "You're angry."

"Quite. You ran off to Cornwall with no protection. My only solace in this is that you're engaged to a man who will actually marry you instead of that cursed Bashton."

"So, he… told you about Bashton?"

"Said he was amiable enough about ending his relationship with you. No more letters, I assume."

She shook her head. Tristan had been true to his word, had not told Samuel about their books, their secrets. Impossible, but she might love him even more now.

"Are you sure he's the man for you, Annie?" Samuel asked, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms. "He is a good man, but he does not seem the type to suit you. Too brash. Too ambitious. I know you want a quiet life with—"

"No, Samuel. I do not want that. Just because I've been quiet myself for several years does not mean that is what I desire. Tristan sees that about me. I like a bit of excitement. Intrigue. I like to be… to be bold."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "As your flight to Cornwall proves." He pushed away from the desk with a sigh and crossed the room to stand before her. "Do you want this? Do you want him?"

"Yes."

He grinned, and the boy he used to be returned. "Very well, then. You shall have what you want. Now go dress. Appropriately. And when you're done, come back down and tell me everything."

She hesitated. "Everything?"

"Everything. Every courtship tactic the man used to woo and win you." He shook his head and walked to his desk. "I have to write it all down."

She left with a chuckle. She would not be telling him everything.