Page 42 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“It was nothing more than a trick of the lighting and effects of the wine.” She laughed again. “Angel, indeed. I imagine I look human enough in the light of day.”

He scowled, uncertain if her doubts about his mentality or dismissal of her own appeal irked him more. “I see you perfectly well in any light,” he snapped.

Her hand halted, and she slanted a look at him. “I have no desire to argue. I only brought it up because I don’t want last night to affect our partnership.”

“Neither do I.”

“Splendid.”

“Excellent.”

He crossed his arms, feeling ridiculous. What did it matter if she had no romantic interest in him? They barely knew one another.

“Forgive me, Miss Darlington. I never would have considered kissing you if I had realized you wouldn’t welcome my attention. I hope we might move forward and forget my near misstep.”

“Of course,” she mumbled.

They sat in silence while she worked. The outlines of the columns and portico were complete, and she was already adding details.

She sighed and lowered the charcoal again. “It isn’t entirely true, what you said. I would not have rebuffed you if you had tried to kiss me, and I find it embarrassing.”

He had never met a woman who didn’t rely on mystique to intrigue a man. Her honesty was much more effective. “Why does it embarrass you?”

She shrugged. “I’ve always considered myself immune to flights of fancy, but one evening alone in the company of a handsome man, and I discover I’m as capable of being as silly as any other young woman.”

“You are far from silly.”

“I’ve dreamed of becoming an antiquarian since I was a little girl. My uncle always wrote to my mother when he was abroad. I remember my mother gathering my sisters and me to read them aloud. I loved how animated she became.”

She smiled, her shoulders sinking as she relaxed. “Mama often stopped reading to tell a story about some mischief she and Uncle Charles had gotten into when they were children. She made everything sound exciting. I recently learned she wanted to be like Uncle Charles, too, but my grandparents wouldn’t allow it. Then she married Papa and settled into her domestic life.”

“Was it a good marriage?”

“Yes, I think it was. From what I remember, they were happy. They never spent a night apart, which is how we lost them at the same time. Papa had business in Ireland, and they were together.”

“Your brother-in-law said you were young when they passed.”

“I was seven, so I was lucky.”

“Lucky?” Jonathan couldn’t imagine how any young child could feel anything other than cheated.

“My younger sister was barely four,” she said. “Sophia has no memories of our parents. To be forgotten seems like the worst of fates.”

“Is that the real reason you love antiquities?”

“Perhaps. I never gave it much thought, but that makes sense.” She darted her tongue across her lips. “I’ve always known earning the respect of my male counterparts would be difficult in this field. I had every intention of maintaining an air of professionalism last night, and I feel like I failed.”

“You did nothing to sully your reputation, Miss Darlington, and your work speaks for itself.” He gestured to the sketchbook. “I’m impressed by your speed and accuracy. This would take me hours.”

She glanced at the drawing. “I find it easy, and I’m pleased to be of assistance.”

He smiled, eager to put her at ease again. “Should we blame the moonlight and wine and put last night behind us?”

“Agreed.” She returned to her sketch. “As long as we avoid both in the future, we should be safe.”

He reached out to still her hand. When she met his gaze, he offered a solemn promise. “You will always be safe with me.”

Her eyes softened, and he sensed himself slipping further under her spell. “Thank you, Jonathan. I promise you the same.”