Page 91 of A Daring Pursuit

Yrs. One of the Clandestine Sapphire Society members.’”

Sander laid the newspaper aside and leveled a contemplative, accusatory eye on Noah. “Have you anything to say, son?”

Annoyance struck, with the quick lash of a performer’s whip. “I suppose it bears repeating, Uncle, that I am no longer a child of ten to speak to in that belittling manner.”

Isabelle snatched up the paper. She shoved her plate out of the way and smoothed it on the table, allowing Verda to share as they read the article through. A shimmer of excitement vibrated from his cousin.

Noah met the amused glint in Julius’s eyes and realized at once, his brother was aware of Geneva’s “clandestine” activities.

“I don’t know why you are so annoyed, darling,” Verda told Sander. “This is a wonderful article. This Sapphire, as she refers to herself, has the pulse of a nation influx.”

The doors opened and Geneva entered in one of her old frocks Noah was certain he’d ordered burned. “What the devil are you wearing?” he asked her.

All conversation came to an abrupt halt.

“That dress looks vaguely familiar,” Verda said. “I distinctly remember that brown shade. It hides dust remarkably well.”

“Ink stains as well,” Geneva said, taking her place at the table beside Noah. He would never tire of the burst of orange-blossom fragrance that assailed him with her presence.

Fletcher set a cup of coffee before her and Winfield reappeared with the salver, holding her missive.

“Oh, it’s from Abra.” Geneva broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. “Goodness. She and Baron Ruskin are to be wed. And, to celebrate, she is holding a musicale in March.” Her gaze lifted to Isabelle. “It says here she wishes to have you play.”

A hush fell over the hall. Then a scream worthy of an operatic aria from Isabelle filled the dining hall. “I must practice at once.” She shoved from the table and dashed from the room.

“Oh, dear,” Geneva said. “And it’s only September.”

*

Geneva followed herhusband to the west tower into their new abode—the Painted Lady—and fell onto the settee, her eyes tired from the strain of her latest essay to send to Hannah on the lack of social justice due to the circumstances of one’s birth and gender. Such injustices and inequalities truly were abhorrent.

The settee jarred as Noah dropped beside her. He took her hand and used his thumb to stroke the base of her palm. “You woke early, Madame Sapphire.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”

His eyes danced with mirth. “Clandestine Sapphire Society? Makes sense, I suppose. You couldn’t very well call yourselves the Secret Bluestocking Society.”

Brief silence ensued while she gathered her composure, firmly set her jaw back in place. “Er, no, we could not.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “Have you been going through my correspondence, sir?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not even ensuring the maids do their duty in keeping your study free of dust, despite doing my utmost to keep the fire burning. They are under strict orders to not touch a thing.”

“Then how did you know?”

“Your latest article regarding women in the medical field appeared in theTimes. Sander read the whole of it just before you walked into the dining room.”

“Oh.”

“Is that all you have to say? ‘Oh’? By the way, Julius appears to know your secrets as well.”

“Yes, yes. I told him months ago. He was suitably shocked… and impressed,” she said, smiling at the recollection.

“You are a menace, Mrs. Oshea. Come here.” He granted her no choice in the matter, scooping her up and straddling her across his lap.

She cupped his jaw in her hands. Ink-stained hands. “Do you regret marrying a woman bent on challenging the established order?”

He drew those ink-stained fingers to his lips. “Never,” he whispered. His hand molded the base of her skull and pulled her to him. His breath heated her lips and the familiar fire ignited at her core.

She tugged up the bothersome skirts and wriggled against the hard length of him, wondering how she had ended up sofortunate in finding this remarkable, broad-minded man, whose love would sustain her throughout the course of eternity.

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