Page 21 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

She paused, wetting her lips. “Your father never returned to Athens, did he?” she asked softly.

“No.” He swallowed hard and dropped his gaze. “I lost both parents close together.”

“Oh, Sir Jonathan.”

The narrowest of fissures snaked across the protective casing surrounding her heart. She understood the shock of losing both parents too well. Mercifully, after losing both of hers, she’d had her sisters, Uncle Charles, and her auntie to help her feel as though she was a part of something solid.

“I’m very sorry,” she murmured.

“It was a long time ago.”

His response was eerily similar to the one she gave when newcomers learned she was an orphan. The past was the past. It couldn’t be changed, only understood.

“Would you like to join us when we tour the Acropolis?” she asked. “Assuming we are able to get permission.”

“You will have it in a few days.”

“And will you accompany us?”

A smile softened his face, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes. “It would be my honor.”

La! He was too handsome by half and sent her heart racing when he smiled. She fussed with her charcoal, diverting her attention to her drawing. “Has Lord Dominic returned?”

“Not yet,” he said. “He didn’t say how long he would be gone.”

She abandoned her sketch, cocking her head. “Are you certain he didn’t return in the middle of the night?”

He sat up straighter, her challenge clearly catching him off guard. “Yes, why do you ask?”

She pointed toward Lord Dominic’s quarters on the second floor. “All of the blinds are still closed.”

“The servants are keeping them closed to ward off the heat.”

She glanced toward her own bedchamber, noting they hadn’t done the same after tidying her room. She studied his neutral face and couldn’t detect any deception. Perhaps Lord Dominic had returned without alerting him.

Forcing a pleasant smile, she asked more about his latest work. “Are you writing a second book?”

“How did you⁠—?”

“I found a copy of Rhythms of Ancient Life in my aunt’s belongings last night.”

His jaw dropped. She chuckled nervously, wondering if he had noticed the trunk was locked when he carried it into her bedchamber.

“I hope to start reading it tonight,” she said. “I would love to discuss it with you later.”

“I would be delighted." He paused, throat working. “Though I should warn you, most find the subject matter rather dry.”

She smiled, genuinely amused by his assumption. “Honestly, I find the interests of most non-scholars to be rather dry. Remember, I read your articles in Vetusta Monumental—multiple times.”

Color washed his cheeks and his eyes brightened. “If I am being honest, I find non-scholars boring as well. It is refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t yawn when I bring up my work.”

“Most cringe when I speak of ancient warfare, so I understand.”

“I, for one, look forward to an evening of intellectual exchange,” he said. “But regretfully, I must bid you good day. My next book will not write itself.”

“Pity,” she said. “I imagine you prefer to be in the field rather than behind a desk.”

“You really do understand me, Miss Darlington.”