“Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll lock up when I’m done. Feel better, Isla.”
Isla smiled her thanks as Andrew fetched their coats from the pegs. She let him help her into hers; she must really be struggling. She looked tired—drained in that way only Aetherians could after exerting themselves—and he couldn’t help but worry. Once outside, they walked slowly through the quiet courtyard, lamplight flickering over the stonework, the crisp air catching at the loose strands of her hair.
Isla walked a little unsteadily beside him, her exhaustion plain, though she tried to hide it. When she stumbled slightly on the uneven path, he offered his hand for the second time that evening. He was pushing his luck—but after a brief hesitation, her fingers slipped into his. The contact was light, tentative, yet it settled him probably more than her.
“Where are we going?” Isla asked in a tired voice.
“We’re going to see a woman who specializes in restorative treatment for Aetheric strain. I’ve made ample use of her expertise myself.”
“Is she a doctor?”
“Not by title, no—though I daresay her prescriptions are far more pleasant than most physicians, and her results are beyond dispute. Her cures have saved my life more than once.”
“She sounds very talented.”
He gave her hand a little squeeze. “You have no idea.”
The university’s lower kitchens were still busy, even at this late hour. Warm light spilled from the open door, carrying the scent of sugar, butter, and freshly baked bread. Inside, the space was alive with a gentle hum—the clatter of bowls, the low hiss of a simmering pot, and the comforting rhythm of ordinary work.
Mrs. Pember, the head cook, stood at the great oak table dusting a Victoria sponge cake with icing sugar, her sleeves rolled to the elbow and her graying hair pinned in a practical bun. Her skeletal staff worked around her, preparing food for the morning breakfast. She looked up as they entered, her face brightening. The enormous range behind her glowed faintly, keeping the room pleasantly warm.
“Andrew!” she said, her broad smile bright beneath flour-smudged cheeks. “And Professor Cole, isn’t it? You both look like you’ve been wrestling chimneys.”
Andrew gave a quiet laugh. “Close enough. We’ve had a bit of an eventful evening.”
She looked at him knowingly.
“Well, sit yourselves down,” she said, already cutting two generous slices of sponge cake. “Cake first, explanations later.”
Andrew chuckled as they settled at the long wooden table. Mrs. Pember fussed about them for a moment, then set down two generous slices of the cake she had only just finished.
Isla took a few eager bites, the color slowly returning to her cheeks—a faint, reassuring flush of pink. She looked better now, more herself.
“See?” Andrew said lightly. “Mrs. Pember’s cake is better than any prescription.”
Isla raised a brow, amusement flickering in her tired eyes as she put the pieces of their conversation together. “This is the miraculous treatment you spoke of? The one that’s saved your life on numerous occasions?”
He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? Mrs. Pember’s remedies have seen me through many a crisis.”
The older woman gave a warm chuckle as she wiped her hands on her apron. “A good slice of cake and a hot drink can put most things to rights, I always say.”
Isla smiled at her before taking another large bite. “I’ll admit, she said around her mouthful, “it’s effective medicine—but Andrew made it sound as though I was about to undergo a medical examination.”
Andrew’s mouth quirked. “Ah, yes. I do have a flair for the dramatic. Occupational hazard of academia, I’m afraid.”
“Have you been teasing this beautiful young lady again, Andrew?” Mrs. Pember scolded affectionately, hands on her hips.
“It seems to be a habit of his to vex me,” Isla replied, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a smile.
Mrs. Pember laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, I’ve heard quite a bit about you, dear. Our Andrew does like to chat over a slice of sponge—though he never quite said you were this lovely in person.”
Andrew felt a flush rise to his own cheeks. Even after being married to Isla before, he felt rather embarrassed right now. Hecleared his throat, reaching rather unnecessarily for his teacup. Maybe introducing Isla to Mrs. Pember hadn’t been wise; she would release all his secrets. Hindsight really did love to gloat, and it was doing a fine job this evening.
Chapter Sixteen
October 31st
