Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(58)

“Milady,” Ida had begged, “please don’t be so odd.”

The house was bright with slants of sunlight, now that the storm had cleared. Although no one was in sight, Pandora heard the bustling of servants in various rooms as she walked along the hallway. There was the rattle of a coal scuttle, the swishing of carpet brooms, the scrape of scouring paper on fire irons. All the industry taking place around her made Pandora long to return home and resume work on her board game business. It was time to visit potential locations for a small factory space, and meet with her printer, and begin to interview prospective employees.

The door of the study had been left open. As Pandora approached the threshold, her pulse escalated until she could feel it beating at her throat, wrists, and knees. She hardly knew how to face Gabriel, after the things they’d done last night. Stopping at the side of the doorway, she peeked around the edge of the jamb.

Gabriel was sitting at a heavy walnut desk, his profile edged in sunlight. He was reading a document with a slight frown of concentration, pausing to write on a scrap of notepaper. Dressed in a morning suit, with his hair neatly brushed and his face clean-shaven, he looked as fresh as a new-minted sovereign.

Although Pandora made no movement or sound, Gabriel’s gaze flickered to her. His slow smile made her lightheaded. “Come in,” he said, pushing back from the desk.

Feeling acutely self-conscious, Pandora approached him with flaming cheeks. “I was on my way to—well, I’m just wandering, but—I wanted to ask you about my slipper. Did you find it? Do you have it?”

He stood and looked down at her, his eyes like hot starlight, and for a moment all she could think of was the lick of firelight on shadowed skin. “I have the slipper,” he said.

“Oh, thank goodness. Because my lady’s maid is on the brink of reporting it to Scotland Yard.”

“That’s too bad. I’ve already decided to keep it.”

“No, you can only do that if it’s a dainty glass slipper. If it’s a big floppy slipper made out of fuzzy wool, you have to give it back.”

“I’ll consider it.” After glancing at the doorway to make certain they were unobserved, Gabriel bent to steal a swift kiss. “Will you talk with me for a few minutes? Or let me wander with you. There’s something important I want to discuss.”

Pandora’s stomach did a somersault. “You’re not going to propose, are you?”

His lips twitched. “Not right now.”

“Then yes, you can walk with me.”

“Outside? Through the gardens?”

She nodded.

As they exited from the side of the house and set out on a finely graveled walk, Gabriel seemed relaxed, his expression carefully neutral, but there was no hiding the faint pull of tension between his brows.

“What do you want to discuss?” Pandora asked.

“A letter I received this morning. It’s from Mr. Chester Litchfield, a solicitor in Brighton. He represented Phoebe in a dispute with her in-laws over some provisions in her late husband’s will. Litchfield is well versed in the property law, so I wrote to him immediately after I learned about your board game business. I asked him to find a way for you to legally maintain control over your company as a married woman.”

Surprised and uneasy, Pandora veered to the side of the path. She affected interest in a six-foot-tall shrub that bore massive white flowers the size of camellias. “What was Mr. Litchfield’s response?”

Gabriel approached her from behind. “He didn’t give the answers I wanted.”

Pandora’s shoulders drooped slightly, but she remained silent as he continued.

“As Litchfield put it,” Gabriel continued, “once a woman marries, she becomes more or less ‘civilly dead.’ She can’t legally enter into a contract with anyone, which means that even if she owns land, she can’t rent it out or build upon it. Even if property has been secured to her as a separate estate, her husband receives all the interest and profits. In the view of the government, a woman who tries to own anything separately from her husband is, in essence, stealing from him.”

“I already knew that.” Pandora wandered to the other side of the path to stare blindly at a bed of yellow primroses. What was the meaning of primroses? Chastity? No, that was orange blossoms . . . Was it constancy? . . .

Gabriel was still speaking. “Litchfield believes property law will continue to be reformed in the future. But as things stand now, the moment after the marriage vows are spoken, you’ll lose your legal independence and control of your business. However—” He paused. “Don’t start drifting. This next part is important.”

“I wasn’t drifting. I was only trying to remember what primroses mean. Would it be innocence, or is that for daisies? I think it’s for—”

“I can’t live without you.”

Pandora turned to face him sharply, her eyes wide.

“The meaning of primroses,” Gabriel said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“How do you know that?”

He looked wry. “My sisters often discuss drivel like flower symbolism. No matter how I try to ignore it, some of it seeps through. Now, back to Litchfield—he said that according to a recent amendment of the Married Women’s Property Act, if you earn a salary, you’ll be able to keep it.”