***

  Inigo wondered whether it had been Minerva’s intervention that had him sitting next to the duke as he was far from the most illustrious guest, but he was grateful. Bedwin had already implied he had an interest in Inigo’s discoveries and would be open to sponsoring him to further his work. The duke had also said he would be in touch to discuss it further in the coming weeks. This happy turn of events did not entirely make up for the way Harriet had been studying him during the meal. He felt like one the samples he examined under a microscope, hardly daring to look in Minerva’s direction for fear of confirming everything Harriet was pondering behind those delicate spectacles.

  “I wish I had attended your lecture last year, Mr de Beauvoir,” Harriet said, snapping his attention to her now the duke was concentrating on his dinner. “I had read Lavoisier’s experiments with diamonds and his conclusions, but to discover graphite also burns to form carbon dioxide was quite a coup. So you discovered another form of carbon. Fascinating.”

  Inigo opened his mouth to reply to what he knew, with Harriet, would become a fascinating conversation, when he saw her stiffen, her lips settling into a thin, white line. He followed her gaze to see one the guests, a Dr Murphy, looking at her with distaste.

  The doctor turned to speak to a Mr Hammond, his strident voice attempting an undertone yet still loud enough to carry down the table. “I have oft remarked the perils of educating females beyond what is natural. It damages the ovaries and leads to infertility and sometimes hysteria. A dangerous affliction, especially for one yet to produce a family.”

  “I’m sure Her Grace would be interested in that argument, Dr Murphy,” Inigo said, making sure Duchess Bedwin could hear him at the far end of the table. “I believe, as a successful writer, she can be taken as a model for the educated woman.”

  As Her Grace was also very clearly pregnant, it was a forceful enough argument in any circumstances. As she was now staring daggers at Dr Murphy, Inigo took a malicious satisfaction in his discomfort.

  “Ah, yes,” Dr Murphy said. “Well, there are sometimes remarkable exceptions that prove the rule.” He gave Duchess Bedwin a condescending smile and Inigo saw her knuckles whiten around her water glass. “I believe you are a proponent of education for women, Mr de Beauvoir?” the doctor said, his expression conveying everything he thought of that opinion.

  “I am,” he agreed, settling in for the inevitable argument.

  “Yet, you must observe that females are a far more tender species than the male. They are easily upset, their minds disordered when overly stimulated and, as the bearers of the next generation, that frailty must be protected.”

  “If women are silly and prone to fits of the vapours, it is because of a lack of education or proper focus,” Inigo said, his indignation at the man’s attitude making his temper flare despite knowing better. “Nearly every foolishness exhibited by some women can be attributed to the fact that everyone around them insists on treating them as children, that combined with the tedium of having no useful purpose beyond bearing children themselves is bound to cause hysteria. Any sentient being would become hysterical in the face of such boredom. I might add that, if women are as frail and delicate as you suggest, it’s a wonder humanity has lasted this long.”

  There was a spectacular silence.

  “This is what becomes of allowing a lowborn fellow like that among his betters,” Dr Murphy said in a low voice, glaring at Inigo.

  “Bedwin,” Her Grace called from the far end of the table. “I like Mr de Beauvoir very much. He talks a great deal of sense. Do sponsor his work. Harriet admires him tremendously, and you know how often you’ve remarked on how clever the countess is.” She flashed Dr Murphy a brilliant smile. “Tell me more about why women are hysterical, Doctor. I must share it with my friends when we meet next week. I can hardly wait for the fascinating conversation that will follow.”

  Dr Murphy turned a vivid colour that reminded Inigo of strontium salts burnt on a naked flame. He wasn’t sure that particular shade of red was healthy, but could not deny his satisfaction in seeing it.

  “Darling.” Everyone looked to see St Clair addressing his wife. “Ought I to join Bedwin in sponsoring Mr de Beauvoir? I know how much you admire his work, and you know I live to please you. Perhaps he’d be willing to help you with the book you were speaking of in return?”

  Harriet beamed at her husband. “What a wonderful idea,” she said, obviously delighted. “I was so impressed by that book you lent me, Mr de Beauvoir. I believe Miss Butler read it too. Conversations on Chemistry, by Mrs Jane Marcet. It was so effective in explaining scientific principles in straightforward language that I was toying with the idea of writing something similar but tackling different subjects. Perhaps we could explain some of your work in terms which the general public, and especially women,” she added, sending a fierce glare towards Dr Murphy, “would be comfortable reading and understanding.”

  “I should be delighted to participate in such a project, Lady St Clair,” Inigo replied as Harriet grinned at him.

  He glanced next at Minerva, which was a mistake. The expression of pride in her eyes made his heart feel most peculiar, as though it were expanding in his chest. He looked away and returned his attention to his dinner, resolving to try to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the evening.

  Inigo knew he was about to ruin his own prospects. The offers from Bedwin and St Clair would be swiftly withdrawn when he proposed to Minerva and they discovered their affair. They’d likely try to take Minerva from him and away from any possible scandal, at least until they were certain she didn’t carry his child. She’d be married off, quickly and discreetly to someone more worthy of her. He wasn’t about to sit by and let that happen, but he knew such powerful men could ruin him with ease, and then what could he offer her? Despite everything he stood to lose, he couldn’t regret it.

  Once, he would have sold his soul for the kind of financial support the duke and the earl’s backing would give him, but now, as badly as he wanted it still, it paled in comparison to Minerva. Without her, the rest held little value for him, and if that wasn’t the most terrifying thought he’d ever had he didn’t know what was.

  ***

  “Good Lord, I’m worn to a thread,” Helena complained as they made their way up the stairs. “The conversation at these dinners of Robert’s is so deadly dull.”

  Minerva stifled a yawn. It had been a long night, with most of the men dominating the conversation with business matters. She’d been unable to share more than a few words with Inigo, either, which was likely for the best.

  “You’re just irritated because you were the other end of the table from Mr Knight.”

  “Well, you’re just smug because you’re bursting with pride over Mr de Beauvoir,” Helena countered, sticking her tongue out.

  Minerva laughed, unable to deny it. “Oh, but you must admit he was marvellous.”

  Helena chuckled and let out a sigh. “I must,” she admitted. “I’ve always hated that Dr Murphy, but he’s very influential, sadly, and my brother likes to keep up to date with all that’s happening in the world. That’s the only reason Mr Knight was here too, of course, for you know my brother doesn’t like him. Happily, I think Robert saw tonight what I’ve been telling him for ages about the loathsome Dr Murphy. If he didn’t, I suspect Prue will explain it to him in excruciating detail,” she added, making Minerva smile.

  “Well, I can’t see him being invited back any time soon.”

  “Thank heavens! You must be thrilled at Mr de Beauvoir’s success this evening. With both St Clair and Bedwin sponsoring him he’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

  Minerva nodded, though she was troubled, too. She knew it was likely Bedwin would withdraw his support once he discovered that she was Inigo’s lover. St Clair had never been a fan of his in the first place and his support had been given to please his wife more than anything, so there was every chance he would follow suit. Before, it had only been Minerva risking her future to be with him, but now… now she might jeopardise his whole career if they were discovered.

  “Well, I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Min.”

  Minerva looked up, her unsettling thoughts pushed to one side for the moment as she regarded Helena.

  “You will remember what I said about Mr Knight, won’t you, Helena?”

  Helena rolled her eyes. “Pot. Kettle. Black,” she said succinctly.

  “It’s not the same,” Minerva said, moving closer and lowering her voice. “Inigo tried to keep me at a distance, to protect me. From what he said of Mr Knight, he’d be only too pleased to ruin you. He hates the aristocracy, and you’re as aristocratic as he’ll ever get close to. Inigo has known him since they were boys, Helena, and he says the man is dangerous. For heaven’s sake, I know I’m being reckless, but that’s just madness.”

  Helena looked back at her and raised one, perfectly arched eyebrow. “No, darling. That’s a challenge.”

  Chapter 17

  Dear Miss Hunt,

  It is with the greatest regret that I must inform you I will not be in London next week as I had hoped. I have some unexpected business in Derbyshire which needs my immediate attention. This means I must cancel my appointment to call upon you.

  I hope I need not explain further how very disappointed I am.

  I pray that you will excuse me, but rest assured of my regard and admiration. I will hasten to London at my earliest opportunity.

  ―Excerpt of a letter from Mr David Burton to Miss Matilda Hunt.

  25th January 1815. South Audley Street, London.

  Matilda stared down at this morning’s letter with chagrin. She was not relieved, she told herself sternly. She took a moment to remember Mr Burton’s face and all the things that had made her like him. When they’d met, she’d thought him charming and attentive, polite, and she’d thought he had kind eyes. He’d shaken that first impression a time or two, but there was really nothing she could put her finger on. Many men were a deal more overbearing than he was. She was just being foolish, looking for excuses, and that had to stop. It really did. It was only that Jemima had left that morning and she was feeling blue devilled. Nothing more.

  Jemima had her new cottage and a new life awaiting her, and it was quite all right that she wanted to settle in by herself. Jemima’s future as a spinster seemed to hold no fears for her, and Matilda admired her for that, for not panicking and feeling the desperation to marry as soon as she could. Admittedly, she was younger than Matilda and did not have her reputation to contend with, but if Jemima could face the future with such equanimity, surely Matilda should be ashamed for feeling such overwhelming terror at the prospect of being alone.

  Besides that, there was no reason in the world that she should be hurt by Jemima not wanting her company. She’d be invited to visit soon enough.

  Setting the letter aside, she finished her breakfast and readied herself to go out. She was just fastening her bonnet as the butler opened the door to Minerva. Her friend looked lovely in a bright blue gown and spencer and a charming little bonnet with blue and yellow silk flowers in a cluster on one side.

  “Good morning, Min. What excellent timing,” Matilda said, gesturing for her to go back outside to Matilda’s waiting carriage.

  “Thank you so much for doing this,” Minerva said, taking her arm as they walked down the front steps. “You’re really too good.”

  Matilda snorted and shook her head. “I’m fast coming to the conclusion I’m nothing of the sort,” she said with a sigh.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  Minerva took the waiting footman’s hand as she climbed into the carriage and Matilda followed suit, waiting until the doors were shut behind them before she spoke again. She didn’t really know what to say, but she owed Minerva honesty.

  “I’m horribly jealous,” she said to Minerva with a wan smile. “And in awe of your courage.”

  Minerva laughed at that. “Courage? I’m not sure there are many who would see my actions as courageous, and the truth is, Matilda, I can’t do otherwise. I love him and… and being without him is unbearable. There just comes a point where there no longer seems to be a choice to make.”

  Matilda nodded but didn’t want to pursue the subject any further. The idea of feeling so fiercely for Mr Burton was so far from possible she felt a surge of guilt. The poor man deserved more than a half-hearted wife, did he not? In the hope of changing the subject, she reached into her reticule for one of the little cards Jemima had given her with her new address on.

  “Jemima left for the country this morning. She asked me to give this to you and to beg you to write to her. I know she’ll settle in and make friends quickly but, in the meantime, she asked that everyone keep in touch.

  “Oh, of course I will,” Minerva said, smiling and tucking the card away. “I’m dying to see her new cottage. It sounds idyllic.”

  “It does,” Matilda said, turning away to look out of the window until they got to Church Street.

  “I’ll pick you up later as arranged,” she said, smiling at Minerva and praying that everything would work out for her and her Mr de Beauvoir.

  “I’ll not forget this, Tilda,” Minerva said, squeezing her hand before she stepped out of the carriage.

  Matilda watched as she hurried to the front door and disappeared inside. The carriage moved on again and she sighed, trying to keep her mind on the shopping she was going to do, and not to remember Miss Barrington’s concern for her uncle, and little white-gloved hands holding his.

  ***

  Minerva turned onto her side, her fingers trailing back and forth through the hair on Inigo’s chest. She regretted that she’d not been able to bring him lunch, but getting here at all had been hard enough. Prue had been feeling unwell and so cancelled their trip to call on friends, going back to bed for the afternoon. When Bedwin had seen Minerva going out, she’d had to lie and say she was going to Matilda’s. It was partly true, for Matilda had agreed to take her to Inigo, but lying to his face had been awful and would also get Matilda into trouble with Prue if she discovered it, which was worse.

  She regarded Inigo, who was dozing, one arm crooked behind his head. He seemed preoccupied today, a little tense, and she couldn’t understand why. Twice she’d been certain he’d wanted to ask her something, but every time he seemed to be about to do so, he changed his mind. She feared he was thinking about his prospects. Last night’s offers from Bedwin and St Clair could change his life forever. He’d never again find his work hindered by lack of funds. It would be possible for him to set up a new laboratory if he wished, with all the newest equipment and using assistants to work with him, which she knew he couldn’t afford to do now. His work was his life, and if she took that from him, she’d never forgive herself. Had he come to the same conclusion? Was he trying to end things between them?

  “What is it?”

  Minerva looked up to find Inigo studying her.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said, a little too brightly. “It’s just been such a lovely day.”

  He snorted at that, turning her onto her back and staring down at her. “You have very low expectations, Miss Butler. Bread and butter for lunch and an afternoon in my bed. There are some women who would not say that it had been a lovely day unless there had been an outing somewhere expensive, and flowers at the very least. Jewels, perhaps. They would want serious courting before giving away even a kiss.”

  “Ah, but those women do not know the pleasure to be found in your bed is greater than expensive jewels.”

  Inigo laughed, and the sound made her feel alive, and so happy she could hardly contain it. She wanted to make him laugh often and, in the light of her thoughts, that made her melancholy.

  “Are you stroking my ego?”

  Minerva’s lips quirked into a smile as her hand slid down his chest, down his belly and lower. “I wasn’t,” she murmured. “But I can if you want me to.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers curled about him and caressed his growing arousal. She watched his eyes darken as her own desire burned hot in an instant.

  “What would you have of me?” he whispered, staring down at her. “I’m yours to command. I fear what I might do for you if you asked, or perhaps it’s wondering if there is anything I wouldn’t do that is the most terrifying.”

  Minerva’s heart clenched, wishing it was that simple. “I want what I’ve always wanted from you, Inigo.”

  But she knew, as he leaned down to kiss her, that for him, that was the most terrifying thing she could ask him for.

  ***

  The day went by far too fast and the sense that Inigo was ill at ease only grew as she readied herself to leave. She’d almost asked him, seeing the unhappy glint in his eyes as she fastened her spencer, but she was a coward. How Matilda could think her courageous, she couldn’t fathom. She was far too frightened to ask Inigo what was wrong for fear he would tell her this affair had to end. It was selfish and craven when she knew what his work meant to him. She’d known from the start she would always come second to his experiments and she’d accepted that, but she’d thought perhaps she could keep a part of him for herself.

  Instead, her own insistence that Bedwin support his work had become the means of destroying her own hopes. She could tell he was anxious and knew he didn’t want to hurt her. The certainty that he was trying to let her down gently grew by the moment, but it was too soon. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Not yet.

  So she didn’t ask, and every time he seemed to gather himself she chattered about inconsequential nonsense, not allowing him to say the words that would break her heart and grind her dreams to rubble and dust.

  “Minerva,” he said, taking her arm just as the sound of a carriage drawing up outside the house could be heard beyond the door.

  Thank heavens, Matilda was early.

 

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