Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,62
him again, looking entirely horrified this time before she stared dejectedly at her empty plate. ‘Maybe they will read it this time without the need for all that fuss.’
‘I think we should make the fuss regardless. It will serve them right!’
‘Forgive my wife, Effie,’ said Adam, smiling in apology. ‘She’s always had a radical streak. But she is right—you do need to write about your discoveries. But if the blinkered society of crusty old men will not publish it, I know a few publishers who might.’
Eleanor beamed at her husband. ‘He does, too, Effie! Wouldn’t it be better to write a whole book which will be read by hundreds rather than an academic journal like Archaeologia that is only seen by a select few?’
‘I suppose...’ Her eyes only made it as far as his chin this time before she tore them away.
‘Just think of it... All leather bound with gilt lettering. Sat in bookshops and on library shelves all over the country as well as mine. It would certainly be a splendid way to thumb your nose at those crusty old antiquarians.’
‘Would these publishers baulk at an academic history written by a woman?’ Max saw hope blossom in her lovely eyes briefly before Adam unwittingly and insensitively quashed it.
‘They do not need to know you are a woman. We can give you a male pseudonym or just use your first initials rather than your Christian name to muddy the waters. There are ways around these things.’
These things being all the same ludicrous things the idiots at the society used to obstruct her at every turn. ‘I think it should say Euphemia Nithercott and be damned!’ Without thinking Max slapped the table so hard the crockery rattled, which garnered another swift knowing look from his sister to her husband. ‘It’s Effie’s work and she should get all the credit.’ She almost smiled at him.
‘Thank you, Max.’
‘She should—but I am a realist.’ He was going to strangle his brother-in-law. ‘Even if we could find a publisher who would use Effie’s name, the general public will not buy a serious history book written by a woman. And the academic establishment will be up in arms. It would be a bit different if she were writing fiction. That market is much more forgiving of female authors—for the right sorts of books, of course.’
Oblivious of the damage he had just done to Effie’s dreams, Adam hammered one final nail into the coffin. ‘Or you could publish the work in your father’s name. An academic of his gravitas would guarantee it was taken seriously for sure and doubtless it would fly off the shelves.’ He patted her hand and Max found himself fuming at the gesture. Not out of jealousy, but sheer outrage because despite being well meant—Adam Baxter did not have a mean bone in his body—it was both paternalistic and patronising while completely diminishing all that she was. ‘We’ll find a way around it, Effie, I promise. But first you need to write the thing.’
‘I suppose...’ Her usually animated eyes and tone were flat and Max’s heart broke for her. How demoralising must it be to hit barricade after barricade on your quest to move a single step forward? How galling must it be to be continually put in your place by men who possessed less than a quarter of Effie’s intellect? He had never been so ashamed of being a man in his entire life.
‘I think it’s time we left the ladies for our port, don’t you, Max?’
This was the absolute last thing he wanted to do when all the light had dimmed in Effie’s eyes and he finally understood with perfect clarity what she had meant when she had said he had numerous choices and she had so few. The world was made for men and brutally unfair to a woman as brilliant as her. ‘Perhaps we should stay with the ladies tonight?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Eleanor’s eyes were dancing. ‘We have urgent gossip which must be shared and dissected. Isn’t that right, Effie?’
A statement which caused her to visibly pale. But as trapped as he was, she, too, stood and trailed after his sister and Adam’s mother like a condemned prisoner on the way to