Love for Lady Winter by Christy Carlyle

Author:Christy Carlyle
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-07-21T21:00:00+00:00

6

Sep remained at Penwithyn longer than he planned the next morning. Beyond taking the daily readings in his observatory, he intended a trip to Castle Keyvnor in order to work on the device he kept there.

But first he needed to speak to Win. He’d overstepped. Misspoken. Kissed her and upset her. Not at all the combination he intended.

Their kiss haunted him. He’d never wanted to kiss Miss Simmons so badly. So impulsively. Nothing in his life had torn at his defenses so quickly as Lady Winifred Gissing. He told himself he simply wished to help her. But his feelings were far less charitable. He wanted to know her, spend time with her.

He wanted to kiss her again.

Yet that impulse served no purpose but to drive him to distraction, so he focused on practical action. The previous night, he’d been up until dawn combing the works of James Ware. Books, along with a few medical instruments, comprised the sole inheritance he’d received from his father. Ware had committed his life to studying the maladies of the eye. With Sep’s minimal knowledge on the topic, the man’s books were hard going.

But he’d discovered, as he’d assured Win, that there were conditions which could explain the symptoms she described. With a simple examination, he could rule out whether she suffered from one of the conditions Ware described.

If she ever allowed him to touch her again.

He hadn’t managed a private moment with Win all morning. He’d seen her at breakfast, where he’d endured an animated conversation between her, Cornelia, and Mrs. Renshawe on the topic of the upcoming nuptials at the castle. Later he’d sought her out in the sitting room, only to find her reading quietly, while Mrs. Renshawe knitted in a nearby rocking chair. Eventually Cornelia joined them with a pile of mending in hand.

Sep took up one of his own books and tried not to stare at Win as she read. He struggled to focus on the printed words before him, rather than watch how her eyes danced across the page, her brow intermittently arcing high.

Then she caught him watching her, and her brow winged higher. Scooping up her book, her face lit up in a conspiratorial grin as she lifted the volume to show him the spine.

The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe.

A peace offering, finally.

Sep rose from his chair and approached Win’s. Her aunt and Cornelia pretended not to notice.

“Is the story any good?” he asked casually.

“It features a ghost.”

“Which is why I refuse to allow Winifred to read to me from that book,” Mrs. Renshawe put in without lifting her eyes from her knitting. “Especially here in Bocka Morrow, where even the milkmaid whispers of specters.”

“Wasn’t there a rational explanation for the ghosts in the end?” Cornelia asked, needle poised in the air before sewing her next stitch. “Pirate, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Win looked into Septimus’s eyes. “The ghosts were explained away.”

“There, you see,” he whispered.

Win narrowed an eye at him and pressed her lips together, as if she wished to retort, but couldn’t do so in front of her aunts.

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