“Shame. She enjoyed your knife-throwing lessons.”
“Yes, shame. Good night, Juney.”
“Good night.”
Samuel found his bedchamber with heavy legs and collapsed onto the mattress, throwing his hands out wide with a groan. And then a curse as his knuckles slammed into the table beside his bed, knocking something off. Bloody hell, that hurt. He shook his hand and picked up the fallen object.
The parcel Lady Emma had returned from Lady Macintosh last week. What was it? A book, clearly, but… what book? With Lady Macintosh and his sisters, there’d be no knowing. He should place it in his mother’s sitting room immediately.
Or… he could… open it.
No. He didn’t want to know.
Yes, he did. He ripped the paper open, revealing a green leather tome with gold lettering on the spine.His Lady’s Pleasure.
He’d been right. One ofthose. He’d return it now.
But instead of trudging downstairs, he stayed where he was. If one was jumping into the ocean, they went all the way in, didn’t they? Samuel did, at least, creaking the cover open, finding faded, spidery, familiar writing on the inside.
His father’s writing. He couldn’t read it at first, his vision blurring. So long, years since he’d had new words from his father. An unexpected treasure trove. Consume it all in one gulp? Or take each word out one at a time to inspect it, memorize it.
In the end, each word ran into the next like raindrops sluicing into a racing river.
Dearest Rose, loveliest Rose, beloved Rose,
I hope you are pleasantly surprised by this gift, and that it is a good enough atonement for our argument. Not having you to tease and kiss these last several days has given me plenty of time to think. I was shocked when I discovered your collection, but you are correct. It hurts no one so long as it remains a secret, and it amuses many, helps some, even. So, I gladly keep your secret and make myself complicit as well. There is nothing worth taking risks for so much as love. If a scandal ever bites at us, we will face it together. Only courage and joy, not fear, begets more happiness. And that is all I could ever want for you, for our children, for us.
Now, I hope you do not mind, dearest, loveliest, beloved, but I’ve already skimmed this interesting tome, and I thinkyou might find page fifty-seven of particular interest. We can discuss it later if you find my gift, my apology, agreeable.
Your adoring husband in scandal,
John
His father had known. Samuel had wondered… but now he knew. There had been an argument over it, a reconciliation, a gift.
Only courage and joy, not fear, begets more happiness. And that is all I could ever want for you, for our children, for us.
He couldn’t seem to look away from those words. They tolled a question between his ears he couldn’t silence.
What did he want for his sisters?
Safety. A scandal-free life. Happiness. Good reputation.
Didheneed to be happy forthemto be so?
You look sad,June had said,and that makes me sad.
Was he making a mistake? Again?
He set the book carefully on the table. Couldn’t give it back yet. The writing meant for his mother seemed meant for him, too, somehow.
Only courage and joy, not fear, begets more happiness.
He collapsed against the pillows and fell to sleep thinking of Emma.
Chapter Twelve
Emma sat at her bedchamber window where the afternoon light was best, embroidering a row of leaves along the hem of one of her stockings, green on white, these stitches not hidden by color because they’d be hidden by skirts.
