then extended the other book to Rowena. “Northanger Abbey.”
Rowena folded her arms, rejecting the book. “I want Nightmare Abbey.”
“This one’s also good,” Edith wheedled. “It talks about all sorts of wonderfully horrid novels. Though it’s not quite a real Gothic. The heroine imagines all sorts of horrors, but nothing bad ever comes to pass.”
Rowena pulled a face. “What fun is that?”
Simon laughed. “Eat a cream cake, then explain to me why you like Gothic novels so much.”
“If I must.” Rowena plucked a pastry from its packaging—now Simon’s thoughts were alliterating too—and considered as she bit into it. Simon tried not to become utterly spellbound by her expression as she savored sweet cream and delicate crumb, but such a look of bliss was difficult to ignore.
“I think,” Rowena said once she’d eaten the cake, “Gothic novels are simply the best of all sorts of stories. In what other book could there be skeletons, brooding gentlemen, family secrets, and dark lightning-struck towers?”
“Sounds like Twelfth Night with the Prince Regent,” muttered Simon, causing Rowena to splutter.
“But if you’re wondering why I like all those sorts of things,” Rowena added, “maybe it’s because they have little to do with my ordinary life. Like How to Ruin a Duke. It’s merely entertaining.”
“And adventure?”
“And peril, and heroines solving it.” She took up the rejected copy of Northanger Abbey, then flipped through it. “I dearly love the idea of sorting out one’s particular type of peril.”
He could certainly understand that. And yet. “It doesn’t always work out well for the heroine,” Simon pointed out. “Think of ‘The Vampyre’—published last month in New Monthly Magazine. It ends in the tragic death of Aubrey’s sister, drained of blood on her wedding night.”
Both women stared fiercely at Simon as if he’d just suggested juggling Cotton. “What? What’s wrong?”
“We haven’t read it yet!” Edith exclaimed.
“You are a monster.” Rowena pointed at Simon. “You’re worse than the Duke of Amorous. He puts notes inside violins, but you—you talk about the endings of books!”
This was befuddling. “But you love Gothics. I thought you’d have read it.”
“No!” Rowena howled. “And now I know the heroine dies? What sort of story is that?”
“Quite a horrid one,” Simon said tentatively. “Sorry. I just—I thought we were talking about books.”
Edith jumped in, thank the Lord. “I would love to read more books of practical advice. Rather than How to Ruin a Duke, I’d like to know How to Solve Anything. How to Answer any Question.”
Rowena relented, though her movements as she straightened tools were still choppy. “You’re writing that book already. I’d like to know How to Make Money Appear from the Ether.”
“Are we suggesting titles?” Simon asked. “How to Get Two Ladies to Forget You Told Them the Ending to a Story. That’s the book I need.”
Rowena waggled a metal file at him. “That’d be a short book. One can’t get people to forget, but to forgive.”
“Ah. How to Gain Forgiveness. That’d be a worthy title too.”
If he had that book, he would read it every day. He’d have read it for thirteen years. And maybe, if it really existed and if its methods worked, someday Howard would forgive him.
“Indeed it would,” said Edith, a hollow note in her voice. She bade the two of them good-bye, leaving the copy of Northanger Abbey behind on the worktable. “Thank you for the cakes, Mr. Thorn. I shall tell my brother to watch for your cards at the theater.”
When she was gone in a whisper of velvet curtain and a jingle of silver door bell, Simon apologized to Rowena. “Not only about ‘The Vampyre,’ but…well, I wanted to help you make your fortune. I’ve a little skill at a lot of things, but not enough at any one of them to be any use.”
“Good heavens! I forgive you for telling me about the poor woman’s demise. It is only a story, after all. And you have a skill that I admire very much.”
Admire? She admired something about him? He tried to drawl the question, “Oh? What is that?” rather than sounding eager as a pup.
He probably didn’t succeed.
But Rowena didn’t seem to mind. “You persist,” she explained. “You don’t give up. You try something, and then something else, until it all works out.”
Did he? That sounded quite a bit better than being a come-and-go fellow who never settled to anything. “Why do you think so?”
“You tried to work with me, and then you tried a different way, and eventually I agreed. If you can win over a stubborn