Page 34 of The Scholar’s Spy

“Perhaps once in Town, I could call the geological society.”

“It would be wondrous if I could be similarly blessed to write a paper, like Georges Cuvier. With such a thing behind me, the establishment might finally listen to me. But even my father did not think it likely anyone of note would be willing to publish my writings or finds—”

“As an Englishwoman, your writing should be—”

“I do not have the same faith as you,” Abigail cut him off. “My father convinced me to know my limitations. To know what it is to be reasonable and not expect too much—it seems we shall have to find a buyer the old-fashioned way.”

“We?” Robert could not resist a wry teasing smile, hoping to prod Abigail into realizing how much she relied on him.

“Indeed,” Abigail said. “You of course shall have a cut, once this creature is sold. Especially if it is thanks to your business connections, I am able to sell it.”

“I thought there was no ‘we’ since your mother is arriving, and very likely would not approve of our connection no matter what we are finding out here.”

A frown pulled over Abigail’s face as she mulled on this, before she said, “On this, my mother will simply have to face reality and understand that we will never wed. She cannot force us both down the aisle to a fate neither of us wants. I was never the daughter she held out any hope for a marriage anyway.”

Why not? Robert wanted to ask. Why wouldn’t Abigail expect such care and devotion from a man? Why shouldn’t she desire a suitor, no matter what nonsense her mother might have filled her head with?

They had kissed. They had held hands. They had danced together with the eyes of the town on them. For weeks, they had spent hours exploring the beaches of Lyme Regis, talking and sharing. He had done so with the hope Abigail might reveal the secrets of the town. But as far as Abigail was concerned, it was done because he had given the impression he had enjoyed her company. And dash it all, he had. Surely, she was entitled to demand a proposal. Robert’s annoyance called out to him. Were the sexes reversed, he would be expecting one. Yet Abigail was immune to his charms.

Damn. It didn’t matter what she wanted. He was not at liberty to offer any of this to her.

“Let one of us go back to town and fetch up some good men to help shift the rest of grit away. We should be able to see the rest of our creature then.” She was planning aloud, keen to have the scheme set in motion and rescue her discovery. “We shall, on the way back, compose a list of who you might be able to sell it to.”

“I think we should not be so quick to dismiss the society’s rules, if that is where your heart truly lies. Why not aim for the best outcome? If we must settle for something else, so be it.”

A wild sort of brightness came over Abigail’s whole being, as if she had been lit up from within. “I am so glad to hear you say this. Surely things have changed since my father wrote to them. There are so many things… I would be so pleased to have your backing.”

Despite the distaste pulsing through his limbs and mind, Robert forced himself to say the next sentence. “In exchange I need your help.” He wanted to help her, and if she had just heard a few choice bits maybe he might be able to let her achieve her dreams. “You must tell me everything you can about smugglers. It’s one of the reasons I was so worried about that paper you had from France. I have heard rumors about Lyme and free trading. If I am to settle here, I need to know what is going on in the town itself. Can you help me, as I will help you?”

Chapter Thirteen

For most of her life, Abigail had dreamt of finding an amazing discovery, worthy of including in a London exhibition. Important enough for prominent men of the age to write papers about it. Perhaps for her to draft her own findings. Father and she had discussed it happening, working out what they would do—but every single one of their plans had been based on the idea that he might be alive when it happened. It was only now, standing in the midst of the landslide that had almost killed her, that the discovery of ancient bones feet from her, that Abigail saw truly how difficult everything was going to be. Simply because she wasn’t a man.

Annoyance and anger flared through her, blotting out the practicalities Judith would lean toward or even the manipulations Sophia might try. She wasn’t a man, and neither were her sisters.

Slowly, she lowered the ancient sea creature’s skull back onto the rock and turned to study Robert O’Sullivan. There were deep creases around his bright blue eyes, and his pleasing mouth had thinned as he watched her.

“Will you help me get to London?” Abigail asked.

“I am an honorable man.” Robert stepped nearer, the tempting scent and presence of him, catching on her senses, and reminding Abigail poignantly of the kiss they’d shared. How if she had been given free rein to explore every one of her desires, they would have gone further. Then again according to Judith, since he wasn’t proposing he wasn’t worthy of a second thought. “And I want to help you. I will help you. But I need to know everything you can tell me about Lyme…”

“Around smuggling?”

Robert slipped his hand over hers, cupping and holding her outstretched fingers, as if she were something precious, as if he could not see the dirt beneath her fingers, or did not care. “It is vitally important.”

“In exchange—”

“I will do whatever you need me to do for your discovery. If it is in my power, I will do all I may to aid you.”

She had been drawn into his arms without her even realizing it was happening, her hand creeping up and around his neck, until her forehead was resting against his. She could feel the strength of his body radiating through her. There was solidarity, a true comfort to be held. Abigail could not remember when she had been embraced in such a manner. It was more enjoyable than she wished to admit.

When she drew back, it was to look up into his gaze and feel the rush of excitement pounding through her veins at the sight of him so near to her. The tiny faint trace of hair, not even stubble that decorated his chin and cheeks. The length of his eyelashes. How his auburn brown hair needed a trim, and hung forward boyishly…

“Everything I can, in exchange for everything you know.”

Was it an oath? A bond? It certainly tied them together, regardless of what her mother was intending, connecting them in a way Abigail far more than marriage. This was an exchange where she might actually get her heart’s desire. Or at least what she had always considered to be her biggest ambition.

“I want to be a geologist. Not just in deed, but to be recognized as one professionally.” She whispered it, the words soft and easily dismissed but Robert heard them, she saw his reaction: the slight lifting of his mouth in the smallest inclination of a smile. He was not judging her for her ambitions, nor was he raising all the reasons why she wouldn’t achieve her desires, he was simply, wondrously listening. “I want to be a respected geologist, who publishes papers. Is invited to give talks. Goes to Paris and argues with—”