Love Between the Pages: 8 Romances for Booklovers

by Bird, Peggy

  “I’m a horrible friend.”

  Dorcas’s lips curled into a smile. “Yes, you are. I won’t even debate you on the issue by saying you’ve had enough of your own problems to pay attention to mine.”

  “But I have had my own problems,” Rosemary replied. “And fencing lessons.”

  Dorcas pretended to bristle. “Not a good enough excuse, although the lessons sound delightful. Next I suppose you’ll be telling me you’re too busy to be in the wedding party.”

  “No! Of course not. May I be your maid of honor?”

  Dorcas rose and moved to Rosemary’s side. She wrapped an arm around her. “Yes, you may. You’re forgiven. But just for spite, I may pick a color of a gown for you that will totally wash you out. I want all eyes on me on my wedding day.”

  Rosemary grinned. “Even though you’d be well within your rights, you’re not so mean as to do something extreme. Besides, Jasmine won’t let you.”

  She draped her arm around Dorcas so they were joined together, similar to the braid Rosemary carried in her chatelaine. “Tell me all about this Phillip. How did you get him to propose to you so quickly? Maybe I can use your tricks on Henry.”

  “So you are interested in him, are you? Even though you tried to show his sister you had no feelings, I could tell you were lying!”

  Rosemary grinned. “Thank you for not revealing to Marguerite that I’m the real author behind F.P. Elliott. She’s going to join Henry in the business, and I don’t want her knowing who I am before I tell Henry. I was so worried all during our day out since I didn’t have a chance to caution you.”

  Dorcas straightened beside Rosemary. “Yet I picked right up on it, didn’t I? See? I can be as secretive as your family.”

  “And, as for the family, I’m sure Mother and Papa would love to meet Phillip, too. Why don’t we plan on hosting you two for dinner some night next week? I’d love to see him some time when I’m awake, not when he’s administering smelling salts.”

  “I’m sure Phillip will agree to a dinner. You are my best friend, after all. And, if it wasn’t for you, we may never have met. As for trickery, I didn’t have to use any to get him to propose. He came calling the day after the ball, and brought flowers for both me and Mother. We went out a few times following his initial visit, and I was smitten right away. But I had no clue he was of the same mind until the night he came over for dinner. He asked Father for a private moment in the library, then took me into the parlor and dropped to one knee. I was shocked, but in a good way. Just think of it. I’ll soon be known as Dorcas Rosecroft. Doesn’t it sound delicious?”

  “Such a whirlwind we’ve both been on since the ball.”

  Dorcas settled back onto the seat once again. “When do you plan to reveal all to Henry?”

  “Well, now that I know how he feels about women in the work force, I suppose I can tell him any time without fear of his reprisal. But I want to finish up the last Harry Hawk story before I tell him. It just seems a neater way to wrap things up.”

  “So how are you going to set up the big reveal? Will you be fencing with him at the time? That might be best. A man would have a hard time saying no if you’re holding a knife to his throat.”

  Rosemary laughed. “Henry would never allow himself to be placed in such a vulnerable spot. I swear, the man is a cat when he has a sword in his hands. Just when I think I might get the upper hand, he astonishes me with a mere flick of his wrist, and suddenly, I’m backed into a corner.”

  “Mmmm, sounds delicious. I love it when Phillip backs me into a corner, then demands kisses before he releases me. Is that what Henry does, too?”

  Rosemary shrugged out of Dorcas’s embrace. “We’re getting off the subject, aren’t we? My big reveal is not going to be any earth-shattering experience. I’ll simply walk in with the folder containing the new story, tell him who I really am, and that will be it. I’ll allow him an easy out if he decides because of my duplicity that he can’t work with me anymore. But I’m hoping he’ll ask me to stay on. He and Marguerite have marvelous expansion plans for the business and I want to be part of them. Now that he’s got his sister by his side, I’m a bit more certain he won’t object to a female F.P. Elliott.”

  “How can he? Obviously, you’re one of his best authors. And even if you weren’t, you’re the woman he’s in love with. You’ll be a part of Cooper and Son one way or another. Maybe it should now be called Cooper and Company, since Marguerite is most definitely a lady.”

  “She is that, isn’t she? We should fix her up with someone. Whom do we know?”

  Dorcas chewed her lip while she contemplated the question. “It’s been hard enough for us to find men for ourselves. I don’t think there are any left for Marguerite. All your brothers are already married, except for Valerian, and he’s way too young. How about my brother?”

  “Wouldn’t that be fun? If Marguerite marries your brother, and I marry Henry, we’d be sisters-in-law!”

  “I always wanted to be a permanent member of your family. Let’s work on it. Maybe I’ll have Wendell come along to dinner at your house next week. Then you can invite the Coopers, and we can see what, if anything, develops.”

  “And I’ll have to see what, if anything, develops with Henry.”

  • • •

  “Mother, I need your assistance,” Rosemary proclaimed as she slid into a seat in the parlor later in the day. Her mother turned from the window where she was staring out at the traffic on the streets. Rosemary was surprised to see tears on her mother’s cheeks.

  “Of course, dear.” Charlotte took a seat beside her daughter, quickly scrubbing all vestiges of dampness from her face. “What is it you need?”

  “Forget about me. Whatever is wrong with you? Why are you crying?” Rosemary wrapped her arms around her mother, inhaling her familiar scent.

  Charlotte ran a hand over her daughter’s hair. “Because I’m a silly old woman, that’s why. My children are leaving the nest one at a time.”

  “Isn’t it what you wished for? My goodness, Mother, it’s been your life’s mission to see to it all your children find their proper mates and marry.”

  “Yes, of course it is. I adore all my children’s choices for husbands and wives. But I do so miss the days when we were all here and the house was stuffed with small children.”

  “But you have grandchildren now to keep you busy.”

  “Ah, yes, the grandchildren. But they go home at the end of the day, leaving your father and me to clank around this big empty house by ourselves. But enough of me being sorry for myself. What is it you need?”

  Rosemary smiled slightly. “I’m afraid I’m going to make matters worse, if you’re lamenting your children leaving home.”

  “Henry proposed? Finally?”

  “No, not yet. But I’m going to reveal to him soon who I really am, and I’m hoping he’ll not only offer to extend my contract with him as an author, but also as a soul mate.”

  Her mother clasped Rosemary’s hands. “Darling, that’s wonderful. I think, now since he’s invited his sister to work with him, your timing is impeccable.”

  “And speaking of Marguerite, Dorcas wants to arrange an introduction between her brother, Wendell, and Marguerite. I thought we could invite everyone to dinner next week. Hopefully, by then, we can celebrate my engagement to Henry, along with Dorcas’s engagement to Phillip Rosecroft.”

  Charlotte straightened in her chair. “Rosecroft? Isn’t that the name of the doctor who took care of you during the ball? How did Dorcas meet him? And to get engaged so quickly? And why am I only now hearing about it?”

  “Yes, the doctor is the same one who took care of me at the Cotillion. They met at the ball. After we left, Dorcas and the good doctor were left alone in the room, and you know Dorcas. She can talk to anyone, given any slight opening. They ended up talking together the remainder of the evening. Then he called at the house the next day, and they’ve been on this whirlwind courtship ever since. And I’ve been such a
bad friend, so wrapped up in my own crisis, I didn’t even realize what was happening.”

  “So is the dinner what you needed my assistance with? Of course, we may plan a celebratory dinner for Dorcas and her Mr. Rosecroft, and invite the Coopers.”

  “Well, I did want to make certain an engagement dinner was all right before I extend the invitation to all parties. But I also wanted to ask if Henry proposes, as you all think he will, do you think Dorcas and I can be married on the same day? How long would it take for you to plan a wedding?”

  “Darling, as much as I love the idea of you and your best friend marrying on the same day, I would hate for you to jinx yourself. Henry hasn’t proposed yet, despite our best efforts. He’s definitely interested in you, but only as Rosemary Fitzpatrick. Once you tell him you’re F.P. Elliott, things might change. It’s best, at this juncture, to let Dorcas have her own wedding.”

  “I’m aware Henry’s feelings might change, Mother, which is why I’ve been loath to say anything. He’s gone against his father’s wishes by bringing his sister here and giving her a job in the company, but family is one thing. A potential mate is another. And I’ve been so shamelessly crafty around him, first passing myself off as a secretary, and now as a niece of the true author. I don’t know how many times Henry will forgive my subterfuge.”

  “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? Go to him with your final story in the series, reveal yourself, and see what happens. Unless I miss my guess completely, he’ll fall to one knee and ask for your hand. How could he not?”

  “I wish I had your confidence, Mother.”

  “When have I ever been wrong, especially when it comes to love?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Toss him a weapon,” the pirate yelled to one of his men. Harry was thrown a sword. He held it in his hand, attempting to get the feel of it, as the pirate, dragging Penelope, moved closer.

  Harry thwarted a couple of the pirate’s advances by sheer strength. When the pirate realized Harry wouldn’t go down without a fight, he released Penelope and got into correct fighting stance.

  Harry smiled as the pirate lunged and retreated, turning and twirling his blade, as if this was some kind of dance. Harry shook his head at the foolishness. Then he dropped the sword and, in a swift action, removed his gun from its holster and shot the pirate.

  Between eye and patch.

  With no small amount of trepidation, Rosemary climbed the stairs to Henry’s office the following day. She had her next novel ready to show him, and she was as nervous about the upcoming meeting as she had been the first day she’d come to this office, posing as Phoebe Wyatt. She hadn’t been Phoebe in over a month, but Henry still didn’t truly know who she was yet. Today was the day. The book she was about to deliver was the last one she had a contract for, and being not at all certain how the meeting would go, her stomach was doing flip-flops.

  Even though he’d offered to include F.P. Elliott in his new magazine endeavor, he didn’t realize he would be including her in it. Rosemary’s grandiose idea for a tale about the gold and silver fields in Colorado or Utah may never see the light of day. Or the pirate who sailed the high seas and resembled Henry himself. She reached the landing on the second floor and took a moment to control the hitch in her breathing. Then she straightened her pink satin skirt, walked down the hall and knocked lightly on the office door before she let herself in.

  Marguerite was in the room with Henry. Their heads were bowed over a huge ledger, and Henry was running his finger down a row of numbers as they talked in low voices. Both glanced up when Rosemary entered, and their smiles matched each other’s. They might be as different in appearance as night is from day, but from the way they smiled, she could tell they were related.

  “Hello, Miss Fitzpatrick.” Henry walked to her side and lifted her hand to kiss her fingers.

  “Hello, Mr. Cooper, Marguerite,” Rosemary replied, a bit flustered. She had expected to find Henry alone. She had serious matters to discuss.

  As if reading her mind, Marguerite stood and closed the ledger before she picked it up. “I’ll take these financial records to my office so I can study them further and leave the two of you alone to talk business.”

  She quickly departed to the next room, discreetly closing the door, leaving Rosemary and Henry standing close together. Rosemary’s tongue darted out, and she moistened her lips before she began the speech she’d been rehearsing all morning.

  “I’ve brought the last book in the series to you today. F.P. finally finished it.”

  Henry took the manuscript folder from her eagerly. “Excellent. I can’t wait to read it. How is Uncle Frank, anyway?”

  Rosemary reached out to still his hand from opening the folder. “Before you read the story, there’s something I must tell you.”

  He raised his eyes to her. “Yes? What is it, Miss Fitzpatrick?”

  Rosemary took a deep breath. “I’ve been hiding a very large secret from you. And before you bought the company, I’d been hiding it from Mr. Page. There is no Uncle Frank. I am the author of all the novels over the past four years. I am F.P. Elliott. And, before you say anything, I want you to remember that row of numbers you were just perusing with Marguerite. F.P. Elliott’s books make up a considerable portion of your company’s profits.”

  Henry stared at her, and his shoulders moved under his shirt. He said not a word.

  Rosemary hastened on, filling the awkward silence. “I know that doesn’t excuse the lie I’ve been perpetuating the entire time I’ve known you, and I wouldn’t blame you at all if you don’t extend a new contract to me. But, don’t you see, I had to know first what kind of man you were before I could reveal myself. Mr. Page never asked. He merely assumed stories about the Wild West, full of guns, Indians, and horses, not to mention wild animals, must have been written by a man.”

  Henry made no reply. Quick tears came to Rosemary’s eyes, and she turned away. Perhaps she had misjudged him.

  He finally cleared his throat and asked, “What kind of man do you think I am, Rosemary?”

  She once again faced him. “I know, now. You’re the kind of man who allows his sister to exercise control over her own life by bringing her to New York instead of keeping her in Boston. But surely you can understand why I needed to keep my true identity a secret until now, don’t you?”

  Henry almost smiled. “The arrival of Marguerite is all it took to get you to admit to me what I’ve known for almost a month?”

  It was Rosemary’s turn to stare. “You … you’ve known for a month? Why haven’t you said something?”

  He took her hand. “I figured whatever was keeping you from revealing yourself had to be important, so I waited for you to feel comfortable enough to tell me yourself. It was just as important to me for you to be the one to tell me your secret, not me confront you. And I enjoyed peeling off your many layers. You are an extremely complex woman, Miss Fitzpatrick.” He squeezed her hand gently, and pulled her toward him as he set the folder on the desk. One arm encircled her waist while his other hand traced a line down her cheek and jaw as he dipped his head to kiss her. She relaxed in his embrace, inhaling his scent of shaving cream and musk.

  “Did anyone ever tell you your family is terrible at keeping secrets?”

  Rosemary smiled up at him. Her heart was threatening to jump out of the cage she’d put it in. “They are awful about it, aren’t they?”

  “Has your father told you anything about the reason I’ve been visiting him at the bank?” He helped himself to another kiss while she thought.

  “No, he hasn’t, other than to say you were there. I assumed it was business.”

  “So he can keep some secrets, then. I was worried.” Henry leaned back, still holding her in his arms. “In a manner of speaking, yes, it was a business discussion.” He stole another kiss before he released her and fell to one knee. “Rosemary, it would be my honor if you’d consent to be my wife. I’ve loved you since the moment you walked into my
office posing as Phoebe Wyatt, and I love you even more now that you’re Rosemary Fitzpatrick and F.P. Elliott. Your father has given me his blessing, but it’s ultimately up to you. Will you marry me?”

  Rosemary stood in stunned silence.

  “Say something, please. It’s getting bloody uncomfortable down here.” He smiled up at her.

  She reached out her hand to pull him up from his kneeling position and wrapped both arms around him. “Will you extend my contract now that you know I’m the mastermind behind the novels of F.P. Elliott?”

  Henry smiled. “I should have guessed you would not have a simple ‘Yes, Henry’ kind of answer. Of course I’ll extend the contract. That goes without saying. I want you to be a vital part of this business. I want our children to someday join our publishing empire. We’ll change the name from Cooper and Son to encompass all our children, regardless of their sex.”

  Rosemary undid the strip of leather holding his queue in place and ran her fingers through his hair as she pulled his face to hers and kissed him. “Good, because I’ve been in love with you from almost the first moment I met you, as well. Now that I know your stand on women in the workplace, my love is even stronger. I want myself, and all our children, to be part of your new magazine. Yes, Henry, I’ll marry you.”

  At the moment, she didn’t want to think about anything other than how soft his lips were. She tried to ignore the sharp pain that immediately took up residence between her eyes, and let herself lean into his hard body. Her relationship with Henry was right. She could sense it. Yet she couldn’t ignore the feeling something about it was so wrong. She was about to become a weapon in the constant battle of wills between Henry and his father. She wondered if her relationship with Henry would survive and rise above the fray.

  • • •

  Henry couldn’t help himself. Now that he’d made his intentions known, and, wonder of wonders, Rosemary had agreed to marry him, he was no longer content with chaste little kisses. As she wove her fingers into his hair, he did the same through hers. Pins scattered to the floor as her curls were released from their confines. He ran a hand down one glorious dark ringlet that fell to her waist as his lips found hers again. His tongue sought entry, and, as Rosemary moaned softly, he found his opening. He explored her mouth with his tongue, and sucked lightly on hers. Her moan grew a bit louder as he plundered her mouth with a kiss of possession. She swayed in his arms, and he backed her against a corner of the wall. His kisses grew even bolder, and his body pressed up against her. She tore her mouth from his and panted for breath. Her neck, her lovely neck, was open to his touch and he scorched a path down to the neckline of her dress. Her breathing grew more labored, matching his. He was emboldened by her reaction.