Upton cleared his throat again. “I know she is your favorite author and—”

“How did you know?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“No, they don’t.” Just who was he referring to as “everyone”?

“At any rate, I assumed you already have this one, but this is a first edition and—”

Jane squeezed the book. She could hardly breathe. “You’ve brought me a first edition Mary Wollstonecraft? Printed in 1792? How did you get it?”

He shook his head. “It’s not important how I got it, and why am I not surprised you know the exact year of its publication?”

“It’s important to me, Upton. I’ve wanted a first edition Wollstonecraft for an age. They are not easy to find. How did you find one?”

She could see the outline of his form rubbing a hand through his hair. “Are you always this inquisitive when someone gives you a gift?”

She placed the book carefully in her lap again. “I’m truly curious, Upton, and I’m not about to allow you to leave this room without telling me how you were able to procure this book.”

“Fine. My mother purchased it when it was first published; when I was old enough, she gave it to me to read.”

“I knew I loved Aunt Mary, but honestly, you’ve read it?” Her hand fell to the mattress with a thump. “I may need smelling salts for the first time in my life.”

“I doubt that.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“You’ve read Mary Wollstonecraft?”

“Twice.”

“That’s it! Fetch me the salts! I can hardly fathom it.”

He groaned. “Yes, I’ve read it. After your accident, I rode over to my estate and got it … for you.”

Her hand was back at her throat. “You rode over to your estate and got it, for me?”

He pretended a long-suffering sigh. “I thought there was something wrong with your ankle, not your hearing.”

She pressed her palm to her cheek. “I am astonished, Upton. I had no idea you had any interest in the rights of females.”

“You are wrong. I do indeed. ‘Virtue can only flourish among equals,’ after all.”

Jane nearly squealed. She was quite certain she was experiencing a heart palpitation. “Now you’re quoting Mary Wollstonecraft!” She put her hand to her chest. “Stop it, Upton. I may never recover from learning that you own Wollstonecraft, but learning that you’ve memorized her is beyond the pale.”

This time he laughed. “I’ve hardly got every word memorized, I simply—”

“No. No. Don’t deny it. There is no retreating from this. You know and now I know you know. We can never go back to our previous thoughts about each other.”

“Dare I hope by that you mean you no longer think me a simpleton whose only pleasure is in drinking and gambling?”