She seemed to feel as he did, that this was a moment to celebrate. She pressed closer, raising her lips again to his.
He tried to do the gentlemanly thing and point out that she was new to the activity and they didn’t need to rush—but she was adamant. And persuasive.
So much so that, in the end, he lay back and let her have her way.
As a gray dawn lightened the sky, Godfrey lay comfortably, cradling the warm bundle of Ellie—his wife-to-be—in his arms.
He’d woken ten minutes before and had lain still, luxuriating in the sensations and even more in the knowledge of the step they’d taken. Neither of them was the sort to commit to something they didn’t believe in.
That they were, now, committed to each other was beyond question.
Ellie had woken a bare minute ago; he’d felt the tension returning to her limbs.
He waited, watching, until her lashes fluttered, then rose. He smiled into her eyes. “Good morning.”
She colored delightfully even as she returned his smile. “Good morning.”
After several seconds of studying his face, she patted his arm. “I really should get back to my room.”
Reluctantly, he raised his arm and let her go. He lay back and watched as, with no overt show of modesty, she collected her clothes and started to get dressed. He sighed and rose and went to help her with her stays.
As he did up the tiny hooks, he asked, “When should we break the news to your father? I should speak with him first.”
“I hadn’t actually thought that far.”
“I’ll do whatever you think best, but I can’t help but feel we’ll do better to keep our engagement to ourselves until I send off my report to London and, possibly, until I’ve looked into recovering the Albertinelli—just so your father doesn’t misconstrue and suspect my offer and your acceptance is in any way connected to that. For instance”—with the last hook in place, he straightened—“that your acceptance is an attempt on your part to soften the blow of the forgery, to distract your family from it—”
“Or an attempt to repair the family’s coffers by marrying well?” She turned and arched a brow at him.
Undeterred, he continued, “Or worse, that I’ve insisted on your agreement as ‘payment’ for my services in reclaiming the painting.”
Ellie would have liked to dismiss all those suggestions as nonsensical, only they weren’t. Planting her hands on her hips, she frowned.
Godfrey ducked his head to look into her face. “You know my motivations are in no way linked to the situation with the Albertinelli, don’t you?”
She had to smile at his uncertain look; she was beginning to realize that when he said he’d never felt this way about anyone else, he was speaking literally. “Yes.” She raised a hand and touched his cheek. “Of course I know that.” She sighed. “And I would like to say that my father would never think such a thing…but the timing is unfortunate, and I have to acknowledge it’s a possibility.”
And it was just like Godfrey to see that possibility and attempt to steer them—her father included—clear of it. Whether he knew it or not, he tended to think of others before himself; she strongly suspected that if it hadn’t been for the forged painting, he would be pushing to send an announcement to the Gazette that very morning.
But misunderstandings were not the way to commence their life together. She nodded. “You’re right. We should wait until you’ve sent off your report, and we can see how the matter plays out.”
“Well,” he temporized, “at least until we’ve determined what steps we need to take to reclaim the original.”
She tipped her head, considering. “A few months should see that much resolved, don’t you think?”
He paused, calculating, then nodded. “I’ll write my report today. With luck, it’ll be in the post by this evening.”
She smiled, then tossed her gown over her head and wriggled the garment down. “Can you do up the back?”
She heard him chuckle, then he twitched the gaping sides together and started deftly sliding the tiny buttons into their holes. After a moment, he leaned forward and breathed in her ear, “Aren’t you glad I’m an experienced man?”
She shivered and nodded. “Indeed. The benefits are manifold.”
Surprised, he laughed. Five minutes later, after dragging herself away from a scorching kiss, she left his room and all but skipped to hers.
Chapter 12
Despite Godfrey’s best intentions, he didn’t finish his report until the following morning. Compiling, organizing, and describing every detail of the provenance the Hinckleys held, laying out his reasons for deeming the painting currently at Hinckley Hall a forgery, and outlining his suggestions for reclaiming the original had taken much longer than he’d anticipated. He’d lost count of how many attempts he’d discarded, but on Wednesday morning, as the clocks throughout the house whirred, then bonged and chimed for eleven o’clock, almost two full weeks since he’d arrived, he finally signed his covering letter to Eastlake with a definitive flourish.
“Done!” He set down the pen, waved the page to dry it, then blotted his signature.
He looked down the length of the library to where Ellie sat opposite her father before the fireplace. The cheery blaze in the hearth gilded her features as she looked Godfrey’s way; his gaze lingered on her face, a smile he suspected was slightly besotted on his lips.
“Completely finished?” she asked.
“I just need to get it ready for the post.” He set the covering letter on top of the stack of sheets detailing the provenance and the forgery, then carefully folded the pages and enclosed them in an envelope sheet. The library desk was supplied with sealing wax and candle; after securing the envelope’s flaps with a blob of red wax, he removed his signet etched with the Cavanaugh family crest and used it to mark the seal.
Once the wax was dry, he picked up the pen and inscribed the front of the packet with Eastlake’s direction.
“There!” He picked up the packet and pushed back the chair.
He was about to rise and cross to the bellpull when a tap fell on the door. It opened, and Kemp came in. “Mr. Masterton, Mr. Morris, and Mr. Pyne.”
Kemp glanced Godfrey’s way, and he waved the letter. The butler diverted toward the desk, while behind him, the three gentlemen filed in.
Putting aside the newspaper he’d been reading, Mr. Hinckley smiled at his visitors. “Good morning to you all.”
Masterton, Morris, and Pyne moved toward the fireplace. Ellie tucked away her embroidery and rose, and greetings were exchanged all around.
Kemp reached the desk and accepted the letter with a short bow. “I’ll ask one of the grooms to take this into Ripon immediately, sir.”
“Thank you, Kemp.” Godfrey rose and, as Kemp made for the door, ambled down the room to join the group before the fire.
Masterton turned to greet him with a swift smile and noticed Kemp departing with the letter. “Cavanaugh. I was going to inquire if you were still studying the painting, but is that what I think it is?”
Pyne and Morris had also noticed Kemp and the letter. They, too, turned inquiring gazes on Godfrey.