Page 84 of Tempting the Reclusive Duke
"It's deserved. There is, however, one consideration." He fidgeted with his pen, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "The board was... curious about your other commitments. The Everleigh position specifically. They want assurance that you'll have adequate time for museum work."
Ah. Here was the conflict she'd been dreading. "My arrangement with His Grace is quite flexible," she said carefully. "I'm certain we can accommodate increased museum hours."
"I'm sure you can." Thornbury's tone was neutral, but she caught something knowing in his glance. "His Grace has been remarkably supportive of scholarly endeavours lately. There's talk of him funding a new manuscript acquisition for the museum."
"How generous," she managed, though her cheeks heated at the implications.
"Indeed. Well, think about the offer, my dear. No haste, though I confess I'm eager to see what else you might discover in our collections."
She left the museum in a daze, her mind racing with possibilities. A special project. Increased compensation. Publication rights. Everything she'd dreamed of, offered freely based on her work alone.
The euphoria carried her back to Everleigh Manor, where she'd taken to spending Thursday evenings completing work that museum days interrupted. She found Adrian in the library, of course, but he wasn't working. Instead, he stood by the window, a glass of brandy in hand, watching the sun set over the London rooftops.
"You're back," he said without turning. "How was Thornbury?"
"Ecstatic. My theories have been confirmed across multiple manuscripts." She moved into the room, setting down her portfolio. "He's offered me a special project. Six months of focused research with increased compensation and full publication rights."
"That's wonderful." He turned then, and she saw pride warring with something else in his expression. "You must be thrilled."
"I am." She moved closer, drawn by the tension in his shoulders. "Adrian? What's wrong?"
"Nothing." He set down his glass, attempting a smile. "I'm delighted for you. Truly. This is exactly the kind of recognition you deserve."
"But?"
"But nothing. Your work is being valued, your theories validated. It's everything we hoped for." He moved to his desk, shuffling papers with unnecessary focus. "Did Thornbury mention the terms? Hours required, that sort of thing?"
"He did suggest the board was concerned about my other commitments." She watched him carefully, beginning to understand. "Adrian, are you worriedabout what this means for my position here?"
"Should I be?"
The question hung between them, and suddenly she saw his fear clearly. Not jealousy of her success, but terror that it would take her away from him. That given the choice between love and ambition, she would choose, what as he expected an independent woman would.
"Oh, Adrian." She crossed to him, taking his hands in hers. "You impossible, wonderful fool. Do you really think I would simply abandon you the moment something better came along?"
"Something better?" His laugh was bitter. "A prestigious museum project versus cataloguing a private library? Full academic recognition versus a position that everyone knows was created specifically for you? Yes, I rather think that qualifies as better."
"You're right," she said, and saw him flinch. "It is better. Which is why I'm going to accept it. And continue working here. And publish my Ovid translation. And probably drive myself to exhaustion trying to do everything at once because I'm too stubborn to give up any of it."
He blinked. "What?"
"Did you really think this was an either/or situation? That I would choose between my positions like some sort of academic Solomon?" She squeezed his hands. "Adrian, I fought for options. Plural. The whole point was not having to choose between ambition and... and everything else."
"Everything else," he repeated, a smile beginning to curve his lips. "Is that what I am now?"
"You're everything," she corrected, then blushed at the admission. "Which is terribly inconvenient when I'm trying to maintain professional objectivity, but there it is."
He pulled her closer, his hands sliding up her arms to her shoulders. "Say that again."
"It's terribly inconvenient?"
"The other part."
She met his eyes, seeing her own feelings reflected there; the wonder, the terror, the absolute certainty that whatever complications arose were worth facing. "You're everything. My employer, my intellectual equal, my dearest friend, and the man I love to distraction. It's utterly impractical and probably doomed to scandal, but I can't seem to bring myself to care."
He kissed her then, deep and thorough and possessive in a way that made her knees weak. When they finally parted, his eyes held a determination she recognized.
"Marry me."
