He put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her out of her chair and away from the table. ‘It is plain that talk of closing de Bryun’s upsets you. We can discuss it tomorrow. Or some other time.’ There were weeks left before the season changed and they must leave for home. ‘But we will find a way to handle it that will be satisfactory to all concerned.’ He kissed her cheek.
And as they always did, when he was this close to her, troubles did not seem so important. ‘All that matters is that we are together.’ He kissed her again. ‘Although I do not know what I shall do with my nights, now that I have used up all my time with you. Last night was four, was it not?’
This actually coaxed a grin from her. ‘Nothing happened on the second night. I do not think we should count it.’
‘On our wedding day, you suggested I save my last visit to your bed for a special occasion. Christmas, perhaps. Or my birthday, which is in March.’
‘March is a very long time away,’ she said.
‘It is,’ he agreed.
And quite suddenly, she was in his arms, clinging to him so tightly that it would have taken all his strength to part from her. ‘Then let us make the last night last for ever,’ she whispered. ‘Just promise me, that, no matter what might happen, we will not be parted.’
‘Never,’ he agreed.
‘Then it will be all right,’ she said, as he manoeuvred them towards the stairs and bed. ‘As long as I have you, the rest does not matter.’
* * *
Margot awoke alone the next morning in her husband’s heavily curtained bed. Just beyond the velvet, Stephen was assuring his valet that he had no intention of leaving the chamber until evensong, if then. Breakfast should be brought to the room. Tea as well. Nothing else was required from the servants for the rest of the day.
And then the bed curtains parted again and he returned, throwing himself back on to the mattress. ‘There. Sorted. I will make the night last for ever, just as you commanded. Come to me, my love.’
She did not need to comply, for the force of his return had bounced her to his side. His arms were about her again and she felt warm and protected. The slight throbbing in her cut finger made her snuggle even closer to him. Perhaps there was madness in his family. Stephen seemed quite normal, as did Louisa. But Arthur and the duke... She shuddered.
‘Cold?’ He pulled the comforter over them and she did not have to explain. ‘Let me take care of everything.’
‘That would be nice,’ she admitted. Not even the duke could harm her, if she was with Stephen. Though he had wished aloud that she could be thrown into the river, she doubted that he was liable to carry out the threat.
It annoyed her that one visit from the man had left her ready to give up. But, in her defence, it was one thing to stand up to the likes of Arthur and Mr Pratchet, and quite another to stand alone against the wrath of a peer. Larchmont had almost infinite power and wealth, and he had already taken a dislike to her.
He was also quite mad. The interaction with him had shaken her more than she’d expected. There was something in his eyes that hinted a broken counter was the least of her worries, should she have further dealings with him.
Stephen noticed her mood and made a soft, shushing sound in comfort. ‘What is it that troubles you so?’
She should tell him about the visit from the duke. She should have told him immediately after she had returned. But it seemed there was trouble enough between father and son, without her adding to it. ‘Nothing, really.’ Perhaps, when she had got over the shock of his first visit, she could seek out Larchmont and assure him of their plans to leave Bath. Then she could explain to Stephen that any potential problems with the family had already been settled.
‘You are not worrying about the shop again, are you?’ He pulled her on top of him. ‘Stop it immediately. I have found a solution that will satisfy us both.’
‘Really.’ It was probably the plan to stay in bed with him until she no longer cared. That solution was impractical, though it had certain advantages.
‘You must appoint a manager. What’s the fellow with the ears?’
‘Ears?’ To the best of her knowledge, all men had them. Even the man currently easing her into a more comfortable position on his torso sported a pair.
‘The tall chap in the front of the shop, with ginger hair and...’ Stephen cupped his hands to the sides of his head and flapped them.
‘Jasper,’ she said, embarrassed at noticing a resemblance.
‘Train him up on the running of the shop, just as you said you are training a girl to do the goldsmithing. You might continue drawing your designs wherever we go, just as other women sketch flowers. Then you might visit Bath periodically to deliver them and be sure that things are running smoothly. We could return in summer, of course.’
Jasper was the only clerk she had retained from the dark days when Mr Montague had run the shop. He knew more about it than anyone, other than herself. There had been only a small amount of disruption on the days she had been late this summer.
And Jasper had been the one to encourage Miss Ross to take over the workbench. Margot might not have come to that decision without his help, since she had been set to advertise. But it appeared that it had been a wise one.
‘You are thinking about it, aren’t you?’ Stephen gave her an encouraging smile.
She nodded and smiled back.
‘While I would not normally encourage a woman in this position to think of another man, today I will allow it.’
She glanced down to notice that she was straddling her husband in a way totally inappropriate to be discussing business. ‘You are sure you would not find it embarrassing to have your family associated with trade?’
‘It is not as if my name is on the door. Nor do I mean to stand in the window hawking watch fobs to a holiday crowd. And I have never been ashamed of you.’
It was true. He had been vexed with her, he had lusted after her and perhaps, for a time, he hated her. But he had never given an indication that she was an embarrassment to him.
And Larchmont was not embarrassed, so much as angry. She would assure him of her plan to distance herself from contact with the customers, and remind him of Justine’s relation to Bellston. Her sister still owned half the business and no one remarked on it at all. ‘So we might not have to close the shop at all,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Not if you do not wish to.’
‘I do not,’ she said, relieved to be able to speak honestly.
‘Very well, then.’ Her husband lay back upon the pillows, and placed his hands upon her hips to guide her. ‘You may now reward me for my brilliance.’
Margot had married the most brilliant man in England. It was an overstatement, perhaps. But not by very much.
When the shop had opened again on Monday, she had pulled her senior clerk aside and made her proposal to him. His eyes had widened, just as she suspected hers had, when Stephen had made the suggestion to her. It was as though he could suddenly see possibilities that had not occurred to him before. But rather than accepting out of hand, he had requested that they go into the office and discuss things in detail.
As an employer who was used to being promptly obeyed, she had found it annoying. But as a shop owner searching for a competent manager, she had been secretly pleased. He had wanted to negotiate not just a rise in pay, but hiring of additional staff, changes in