Page 3 of The Blighter and the Bluestocking

Arthur allowed the coolness of the grass to continue preventing his body temperature from rising as he breathed in the sight of her dark silken locks, sharp jaw, and high cheekbones. Just as it was probably wrong to try and catch a second glimpse of her, it was probably impolite to inhale a third sight of her without her being able to see anything.

He turned his head left and then slowly right. He could see her spectacles shimmering in the grass a couple of feet away. Rolling over, he heaved himself up, bent over, and grabbed them.

With one fluid motion, he turned to find her at his side.

“Did you find them?”

“Yeah–” he croaked out with a dry throat. Swallowing, he made the attempt again. “Yes. They obviously flew off in our collision. They’re right here.” He tapped them against his palm. They felt warm, despite their metal composition. They felt…familiar. “Here.” He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he lifted his arms and began to slide the arms of the spectacles behind her ears. They caught in her hair.

“You’ve never put spectacles on a woman before, have you?”

This time he swallowed before speaking. “Can’t say that I have, actually. Other jewelry, to be sure, but not something like this.” What possessed him to say that? Did he need to prove his manliness to her? Did he want her to be jealous? Or aware of his sexual prowess? Couldn’t a simplenohave sufficed?

She chuckled. The warm breath caused his heart to skip. “Well, you are truly the first to think of them as jewelry.”

“They make you look…beautiful.” Was he trying to make up for his clumsy crash and improper protectiveness? Surely this was not the answer.

“More beautiful than without them?” She curled an eyebrow downward. “Now I believe you are just pandering to my female nature. Though I suppose I can commend your efforts. Despite their deficiencies.”

“Thank you.”

The stillness enveloped him and her, and it was as if he were not just alone with her in the park, but alone with her in their world for a moment. He had never before felt such an instant magnetism to someone. He had never been so clumsy around anyone before. He had never wanted to be so close to anyone before. He had never forgotten an appointment before.

And he would not now.

The symposium loomed over him. That was his out. And by God, he needed an out. Her pull was too strong.

“I have to go.”

He took a step back from her consuming presence. Taking a deep breath, he looked around to regain his sense of direction. Sense of purpose. Sense of logic.

He noticed two bags and several papers strewn about. They all looked to be from his bag and the questions he had scribbled down to ask the experts in gynecology. A few had spilled from her bag.

“Let me help you.” He shoved the few back in her bag, and then he collected the rest and pushed them into his bag.

“I must be off.”

“You already said that.” The shell-colored lips said.

“Well, I must. Go find a chaperone, please.”

“I already have one.”

Drat. How had he missed that? She truly hadn’t needed his protection.

“Good day, Blue.” He extended his arm and handed her a dirt-covered bag.

“And to you,” she took the bag and nodded her head. “Arthur.”

“Yes, well…” and with the intelligence of those two words as his last impression, he took off.

Chapter 3

TAKINGASIPOFtea with her mother, Bridget recounted the moment before and after the crash. “My first thoughts were, Oh no I killed a geriatric. After all this time and experimenting and it all comes down to this. Geriatricide. Or is it geronticide? Oh yes, Mother. It is geronticide, but why it’s geronticide when it’s geriatrics, confuses me. I digress. At least I knew I wouldn’t go down in history for defenestration, like our dear, dear cousin. Twice removed. It has taken a while for all of us to get over that one.”

Her mother, Olivia, was not so much drinking her tea so much as she was nearly spitting it out in a fit of laughter.

“My dear girl. You have the strangest luck.”

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