Chapter 3

Letty couldn’t stop the incessant pounding of her heart as Mac led her from the dance floor. The anticipation of being alone with him had her entire being pulsating. All she had to do was occupy herself for a half hour, but how could she do anything without thinking about his lips on hers?

Mac Meriweather wasn’t devastatingly handsome according to society standards by any means. But to Letty, his square jaw, blunt nose, and captivating gray eyes made him exceptionally pleasing to look at.

“I do hope my dancing did not wound you too badly,” she said, eyeing him playfully.

She had warned him numerous times during their time together that she was not as graceful as other ladies on the dance floor.

He chuckled, and the deep timber sound did strange things to her lower belly. “I found your lack of coordination refreshing, and since I have vowed to always be your dance partner, you will only improve.”

She stumbled over her own feet, again, trying to ignore the seed of hope she felt in her abdomen. “Always?” she asked, searching for the truth.

When they’d first met, she’d assumed any acquaintance of her brother’s would be as disagreeable as he was. However, Mac was charming, passionate, and engaging. He was genuinely interested in conversing with her about printing instead of ignoring her opinions because she was a woman. She envied his passion for his business and how he was able to stand on his own instead of depending on his father’s money.

It mattered not that he was acquainted with her churlish brother—the only thing that mattered to Letty was that he wasn’t like any of the fortune hunters paraded in front of her by her mother, like Baron Oakfield.

“As long as you’d have me.” He stopped walking, facing her, his gray eyes dark and cloudy.

Swallowing, she wet her dry lips. “I will consider you a worthy choice on one condition.”

He leaned forward, the corner of his lips twitching with a smile. “Yes?”

“As my permanent dance partner, you must also teach me everything you know about printing.” Turning her head, Letty tried to hide the color that was rising on her cheeks, but her gaze locked on the disapproving glare of her mother.

She didn’t care if her mother did not approve of her starting her own magazine or of the company she kept. It was her life to do with as she pleased.

“Letty, it will be my pleasure to be your permanent partner, and your teacher.” The words hung thick in the air between them. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest trying to hide how his words affected her.

Her lips parted, and she was sure her eyes were as big as the moon as she looked up at him. The fingers of his free hand discreetly teased her gloved one where it laid in the crook of his arm.

Her skin tingled immediately at the contact, heart beating wildly in her chest. It was like a fire had been lit inside of her at that single touch … and she wanted more.

She smiled, enjoying their flirtation. “We’ll see if you’re worthy.”

A brief shadow passed over his face before he quickly glanced away, and Letty could wonder about the cause.

“I hope that I am.” His gaze roamed around the ballroom until he froze.

“Meriweather, I’m surprised to see you, and with my sister of all people,” Letty’s brother, Bertram, said as he walked up to them with the rest of her family close behind.

Her father’s heir and only son was eighteen years Letty’s senior and had loathed her from the moment she was born. Over the years, she had tried to form a relationship with him similar to the one she had with Cleo, but unlike her sister, who did not see Letty as a threat, Bertram only saw her as competition for their father’s attention and money.

“Cedemoor, Lady Leticia granted me the honor of her company,” Mac said, addressing her brother by their father’s lesser title.

“How fortunate for you,” her brother replied coldly, peering at where Letty’s hand rested securely in the crook of Mac’s arm.

She hated the condescending look on Bertram’s face. It was the same look he’d given Letty her entire life. Was it her fault that she’d been born, splitting his inheritance in half? It wasn’t like she would inherit the title and the land. Letty was thankful that she was blessed with such a kind father; there were many ladies of her acquaintance who were left destitute once their father died.

“That was good of you, Meriweather. I do hope my daughter’s dancing wasn’t too much of a bother,” her father teased, his eyes shining in delight.

She shook her head at her father’s comment. Her entire family constantly mocked Letty about her dancing.

Beside her, Cleo tried to contain her laughter by covering her mouth with a gloved hand, but the shake of her sister’s shoulders gave her away.

Letty side-eyed her sister before discreetly stepping on the other woman’s toe, turning her sister’s laughter into a gasp of shock.

Good, that’ll teach her to laugh at me.

“Is everything all right Miss Hayward?” Bertram asked her sister, who was glaring at Letty.

His hazel eyes and lightly tanned skin were identical to their father’s. Though unlike the earl’s, his eyes had a coldness to them, his lips forever set in a thin line of disapproval.

“Yes, all is well,” her sister replied, a forced smile on her mouth.

Cleo’s chocolate brown skin and thick coils of dark hair were vastly different from Letty’s own countenance. She had always assumed her sister favored her late father, a man her mother rarely ever spoke of and who Cleo had no memory of at all.

Letty raised an eyebrow in challenge, a giggle fighting to break free from her pursed lips. Cleo was not only her sister but also her closest friend. Though they were four years a part, for as long as she could remember, Letty could always depend on her.

“Mr. Meriweather, how is the printing business?” her mother asked Mac, a distasteful wrinkle pinching her nose.

“It’s always a struggle, especially with our stories being a little more sensitive in nature and not filled with gossip as most would prefer.” Mac shifted his weight, his larger body sliding against hers.

“All business is a struggle, and soon you will have one more competitor with our Letty here,” her father said.

The smile on his face was proof of how proud he was of her. His praise and confidence in her made Letty feel like she could do anything. It didn’t matter that she was a mixed-race woman in a society filled with men. The only thing that mattered was her father’s belief in her.

“How wonderful you get to do exactly what you love without any questions or disdain from anyone,” Letty said, before letting out a sigh of need.

That was what she wanted, what she craved more than anything. To do what she pleased and not have to answer for it.

His free hand squeezed hers and she reveled in the connection, longing to be alone with him.

“You will know exactly what it feels like one day.” Mac eyes sparkled with the truth of his words.

His hand stayed on hers, their gazes locked on each other. Everyone in the ballroom faded away and it was just the two of them. She pressed in closer, wishing that they were alone.

A throat cleared, and it hit like a splash of cold water to her skin. When she looked up, Letty found herself now caught in the disapproving scowl of her father.

Oh dear.

Her father, the earl, valued propriety and appearance above all things. It was something he insisted on from Letty.

“You two seem very familiar with one another. Is there some sort of agreement between you?” her brother asked, his voice contemptuous.

“Really, Lord Cedemoor, that is hardly an appropriate question for a young lady of my daughter’s standing,” her mother barked out at Bertram, never allowing the man to mistreat Letty.

“Leticia,” her father said in a sharp tone, his eyes traveling to where Letty and Mac were still connected.

Letty removed her arm from Mac’s, taking a step towards her sister, who eyed her knowingly.

“When does the next publication of The Hard Truth, come out, Mr. Meriweather?” Cleo inquired, interrupting the silence in their small circle.

Clearing his throat, Mac folded his arms over his broad chest, a few of his fingers smudged with ink. “Once every third Sunday of the month. That gives my brother, Mr. Gilbert Meriweather, and I the opportunity to gather and report at least two weeks before we prepare for print.”

“How exciting that you work with your brother. I admire you for doing exactly what you love and for such a noble cause,” Letty responded, wishing more people had the courage to fight for the freedom of every enslaved man, woman, and child.

Her father contributed to several abolitionist organizations, but that was the extent of her family’s involvement. With her inheritance and dowry, Letty would be able to help women and create something good with her money instead of passing it on to a husband to control.

“I’m devoted to the cause. No one should be property. And I’ll continue to fight until my dying breath,” he said with a passion in his eyes so fierce it made Letty see a different side to Mac Meriweather.

She knew the man that loved his print shop, and envied his commitment to freedom. Letty had already admired him but hearing him speak so ferociously about the cause raised him in her esteem. If that was at all possible.

“Thank you, Mr. Meriweather, for escorting Lady Leticia safely back to us.” Her mother’s voice made it clear that their time together was done. “Lady Leticia, I believe Oakfield wanted to share a waltz with you.”

Bristling at the mention of Baron Oakfield, she tried to ignore her mother’s conduct. Letty detested when her mother behaved in such a manner. Did the woman not remember that she was born without a farthing to her name? Mac might be a third son, but he was a man of honor.

“The pleasure was all mine.” He bowed to her mother, before facing Letty. “Lady Leticia, I look forward to seeing you again.”

Releasing her lower lip from the confines of her teeth. Letty forced herself to respond. “As do I,” she whispered, feeling the heavy gaze of every member of her family.

He tilted his head to her in acknowledgement before he left her alone with her family. As Letty watched him leave, she warred with her mind and her body. Her mind wanted to stay the course with her business plan to create her magazine, but her body longed for that man to stay at her side—and never leave.

Staring at the large grandfather clock across the ballroom, she counted the minutes until she could be alone with him.

“Father, may I speak to you for a moment?” Bertram asked.

Her father let out a groan. “I will not discuss giving you more funds here. You’ve been far too irresponsible, and I won’t have you affecting Letty’s future.”

“Christopher,” her mother hissed, her gaze roaming frantically around the ballroom making sure no one was paying attention to them. “This is not the place to discuss such things.”

Letty’s father nodded. “Very well, come along Bertram and let’s find a quiet corner to discuss your needs.”

Once her brother and father were gone, Letty’s mother faced her. “Stop your mindless flirtation with the print shop keeper and focus on Baron Oakfield.”

“I won’t focus on Baron Oakfield. I have no intention of becoming a baroness.” Letty folded her arms, meeting her mother’s gaze. “Is a man with his own business not a good enough suitor for a former opera singer’s daughter?” She challenged, her temper rising at the audacity of her mother.

“You’re the daughter of an earl. You need to marry a man with a title and forget all this nonsense of starting a magazine,” she whispered passionately, bending over so only Letty and her sister could hear her. “If you won’t consider Oakfield, Lord Hendershot would be an excellent conquest. He’s quite pleasing to look at, even with the red hair.”

Letty rolled her eyes. Everyone knew that The Earl of Hendershot was in love with Madame Kitty Delcour, the owner of the scandalous Pleasure House. Another bit of information from her sister, of course.

“I do not want the earl, no matter how pleasing he is to look at.” She leaned into her mother, not caring who saw their bickering. “If I ever marry, it will be a man of my choosing and not because he’s titled or rich, but because I love him. Did you not marry for love, Mother, or have you forgotten?” Letty asked, before she walked away, not caring if she was making a scene in front of all of society.

Weaving through the swarm of bodies, Letty breathed a sigh of relief once she reached the line of chairs against the wall. There was comfort in being a wallflower. Not only did she not have to dance, but it gave her an escape from her mother.

“Mother is in a rare husband-finding mood this evening,” Cleo said, taking the empty seat beside Letty. “I fear your Mr. Meriweather is not up to snuff in her opinion.”

Hers?

Could he be hers? Is that what she wanted?

“He’s not mine,” she said, the words feeling like ink on her tongue.

She didn’t dare allow herself to hope for anything more between them than sensual kisses and harmless flirting. She lowered her head, trying to hide disappointment from her sister.

He was the first gentleman to speak with her in detail about her dreams of a magazine for women of color. The first to dance with her and not complain about how absolutely horrid she was. Instead, he helped her, told her which way to go, and led her effortlessly around the other dancers.

When Mac had discovered her in the library of her family home, he’d done the gentlemanly thing and apologized for intruding, but she’d insisted he stay—with the door open of course. That was how their easy camaraderie had begun, until it became more.

“The way you look at him would make one believe he is your Mr. Meriweather.” Cleo tilted her head, her deep dark gaze penetrating. “And let’s not forget what happened when he visited Crestview Manor.”

Letty let out a breathy sigh, counting down the seconds until she could feel his lips against hers again. “I have plans for my inheritance; you know that.”

A husband would of course expect her to be a dutiful wife. Perhaps he would try to control her inheritance or forbid her from starting her magazine. After her mother married her father, she abandoned her career as an opera singer. Letty could still see the longing in her eyes anytime they went to a performance.

Would Mac do such a thing? Letty couldn’t imagine he would, especially after what he’d said on the ballroom floor. However, she wasn’t willing to risk her dreams on a simple dalliance. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.

“Your plans do not have to change,” Cleo said, placing her gloved hand on Letty’s.

For as long as she could remember, Letty had always been fascinated with the power of the written word. The fact that you could gain any information from a book, periodical, or newspaper thrilled her. She wanted to create a magazine with a plethora of information for all women, but especially for those of African heritage. Former enslaved and freed women, the ones who had not been provided the same opportunities as she had been given.

“No gentleman will want a wife who works for a living. Father encourages me, but that does not mean a husband will as well.” She shook her head, voicing her deepest fears to her sister. “My first priority is to start my magazine, and there is much work to be done.” She pointed her finger to Cleo.

First, she had to gain access to her funds, find a location, a printing press, a staff, and reporters. She ticked off each thing in her head, knowing her detailed list by memory.

“I love you for wanting to pursue your dream. It gives me hope to not give up on mine.” The sadness in Cleo’s voice pulled at Letty’s heart. “You deserve to be happy, Letty. The right gentleman will love you and accept you.”

Letty couldn’t help the smile on her face as she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder for a brief hug. She didn’t care if they were surrounded by London’s society, Cleo was right—there was no reason she couldn’t marry and follow her dream.

“You believe Mr. Meriweather is that man?” Letty asked, the hope in her voice clear to her own ears.

Cleo placed a finger to her lips in thought. “It doesn’t matter what I, Mother, or anyone else believes, does it?”

The challenge in her sister’s posture and the intense gaze of those soulful brown eyes let Letty believe that Cleo knew the answer already.

Tearing her gaze away, Letty saw Mac walk discreetly out of the ballroom, his eyes briefly on her for a breath of a second.

Biting her bottom lip, she was unable to hide the heat that she felt rising in her cheek.

It was time.

Rising, Letty brushed imaginary lint from her gown.

“No, it doesn’t.”