Page 21 of Let Me Be Your Hero
“What?” Archibald said, laughing. “How did he manage to go so long without being discovered?”
Her eyes were solemn, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “There’s a guard bear.”
“A guard bear?” He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s marvelous! How did you think that up?”
He noticed her shiver, so he started peeling off his coat.
“I don’t know, I— Oh, thank you!” she said, sounding surprised but also delighted as he draped it about her shoulders.
He found he liked the sight of Isabella Astley wrapping herself snugly in his coat, a soft smile upon her rose-pink lips, but her expression suddenly turned solemn. “You don’t think it’s too ridiculous?”
“Of course, it’s ridiculous but delightfully so. That’s the point.” He paused as it occurred to him that he might havemisunderstood. God, he hoped he hadn’t just offended her. “Isn’t it?” he asked hesitantly.
“Precisely!” she exclaimed, leaning forward and squeezing his forearm with both hands. “The plot is admittedly outrageous—”
“Which is what makes it so entertaining,” he finished.
“I’m so pleased you think so.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This is such a relief!”
He tilted his head. “A relief? Why?”
She waved this off. “It’s just… Most people tell me that Gothic novels are a waste of time. That I should devote myself toseriousliterature, instead of writing this”—she suddenly looked down—“thisrubbish.”
Archibald wanted to ask who these people were, where they lived, and what time they would be home so he could go to their house and punch them in the face. “Well, they’re wrong. To be sure, there’s a time and place for serious literature. But it’s books like yours that lift people’s spirits, that let them forget their troubles for a time. That is not to be discounted.”
She smiled at him, and his heart tripped. “That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”
He rubbed the back of his head, feeling as bashful as a schoolboy. “I’d quite like to read it.” It occurred to him in a flash that she probably only had one copy. “If it’s not too much trouble,” he added hastily.
She bit her lip. “Can you keep a secret?”
Could he keep a secret? He would fight a horde of angry Vikings for this woman. “I can.”
She dropped her voice to a hushed whisper, even though they were alone. “It’s being published by the Minerva Press.”
“Izzie!” he exclaimed. “That’s wonderful! I mean…” It occurred to him in a flash that he shouldn’t have called her by her first name. “I’m sorry.Lady Isabella—”
“No, you can call me Izzie. In fact”—she glanced up at him, her eyes suddenly shy—“I would like it if you did.”
He couldn’t believe this was happening. This was the best night of his life. “And you must call me Archibald.”
She nodded. “Very well. Archibald.”
God, but he liked the sound of his name on her lips. He cleared his throat. “What is the title?”
“The Castle of Brynberian. I had to publish it anonymously, as writing Gothic romances is not a remotely appropriate undertaking for the daughter of an earl. It’s coming out next week.”
“I will be the first in line to get a copy,” he promised. “And you must sign it for me.”
“I will. Except…” Her face fell. “Except it will have to wait until next Season as I’m returning to Gloucestershire tomorrow.”
“Oh.” He had known that, of course. He had even been thinking about how much he would miss her.
But suddenly, her leaving felt like a full-blown tragedy.
“Could I write to you?” he asked. It occurred to him immediately that the answer was probably no. “Or would that be considered improper?”
“It would be completely improper. But that has never stopped me before.” She tapped her lip, lost in thought, then perked up. “Address your letters to my sister-in-law, Elissa. She and Edward will be staying at the Dower House down the lane. She’ll pass them to me. I know she will.”
