Was the solution to find a partner? Was that why the silk had no permanent storage and the Quinns had no buyers? Because the man paying for their wares did not know how to either sell or store them?
Maggie drank the rest of her tea in mostly silence, happy to listen to Mrs. Quinn describe the process that had been handed down to her from generations of women in her family. And she remained thoughtful as she and Tobias took their leave and nestled once more in their coach for the drive home.
Tobias spoke from the shadowy corner he leaned into. “Do you see? Producing textiles need not be brutal or mechanical.”
“Yes, I see.” Maggie scooted across the seat and rested her head near Tobias’s heart. “And I see you, too. You are a wonder.”
His arms tightened around her, and he rested his chin atop her head.
She turned and spoke softly into his chest. “But …”
“Yes?”
“But you need a partner, don’t you?”
She felt his head turn toward the window. “Yes.”
“Why haven’t you found one yet?”
His sigh was raspy. “I can’t find anyone I trust to—” To reveal his secrets to. He settled his chin back on her head. “I’ve an idea. What if you’re my partner?”
She knew instantaneously she did not want that. “No.”
“C’mon, Mags. You’d be good at it.”
“Possibly.” But she didn’t want to do it. “But I’d rather not. I’d rather …”
“Yes?”
Maggie closed her eyes. Tobias’s path was better than his father’s. She understood why he rebelled now. But … at the end of the day, it was an argument about fabric, and she did not care about it as much as they did. What did a fabric matter when children worked all day in factories near disgusting rivers? The argument between her husband and his father was important. But it wasn’therargument. Something simmered inside her just out of reach, a secret about herself, even she could not yet see.
“What about your sister?”
“Hen?”
“Mm-hmm. It only makes sense, Tobias. She knows textiles as well as you do. She knows who would want and be able to afford the silks the Quinns produce, and her shop likely has plenty of storage. Does it?”
“It does. You’re right, Mags. Henrietta makes sense. I’ve thought so myself.”
Excitement surged through her, and she bolted away from him to see him more clearly. “Have you asked her?”
Tobias’s eyes hardened. Would he answer her? He looked as if he meant to keep his own counsel. Then a laconic smile melted across his lips. “Is a titan likely to partner with a mere mortal? Is the prince regent likely to tie his fate to a street sweeper? Is the prime minister going to let a Drury Lane player write his will?”
Maggie took his hand in hers. “So you think you are a mortal, street sweeper, and actor, do you?”
“I’m obviously mortal, Mags. No denying that.”
“But you do deny your value.”
He shrugged. “I’m good for little other than a lark.”
“The Quinns do not think so. I do not think so. You are lying to yourself. Just like you lie to everyone else.”
His face drained of its usual joviality. She’d seen that hard look before, but never aimed at her.
“You do not deny it.”
He looked up at the ceiling and a muscle in his jaw twitched. One. Two. Three times. “Anyone but Henrietta.”
