A Kiss for Midwinter (The Brothers Sinister) by Courtney Milan Page A
Authors: Courtney Milan
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that I’m unfortunately constant in my affections. I’ve had my eye on one particular woman for more than a year. It wouldn’t be fair to marry anyone else with my attention thus engaged.”
“Oh, too bad,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “And she is not undiscriminating?”
“Alas,” he said, looking straight at her. “She is damnably clever, and I wouldn’t wish her any other way.”
The way he looked at her made her heart thump, her breath catch. For a second, those dark eyes seemed to have no end to them, as if she were looking into a hall of mirrors and seeing reflection upon reflection echoing into infinity.
For just one second, she felt a tug of yearning.
“I think,” Lydia said slowly, “you might have to lower your sights.”
“I’ve tried.” He gave her a rueful grin. “God knows I have. But the view to the heights is so inspiring that every time I convince myself I must move on, I’m charmed anew.”
It was almost impossible to conceive. For all his black humor, Doctor Grantham was attractive. Those velvety black eyes seemed to catch her in and pull her to him. He looked at her with a dangerous, wicked intensity. His lips were full and curled up in a smile. If he hadn’t been so set on another woman, she might have found herself dangerously taken with him.
“What of you?” he said. “What’s your excuse? Yes, yes, I know; you just threw Stevens over last month. But I would have thought that for the eleventh prettiest unmarried woman in all of Leicester, there would be a rush of men to take his place.”
“Do be serious, Doctor Grantham, and think of what you know of me.” Her voice lowered. “I did not become pregnant through immaculate conception. I had sexual intercourse. I am the farthest thing from a virgin.”
He raised his eyebrow at her. “I’m a doctor, Miss Charingford, and even I can’t always tell on close examination whether a woman is a virgin. Besides, the hymen is just a membrano-carneous structure situated at the entrance of the vagina. It is of substantially less physiological relevance to a man in the throes of passion than the vagina itself.”
“Yes, but…” She sputtered. “It’s not about the hymen itself, it’s about—”
“As it is, I’ve had sexual intercourse. And even though it has been too damned long since the last time, I don’t go about trumpeting the fact. You don’t, either. This is an irrelevancy, Miss Charingford.”
She simply sniffed in response to that. “You’re being difficult. I’m fickle, and I have a temper. I not only cried off from my last fiancé, I threw him over by tossing two glasses of wine punch in his face at a dinner party.”
“I wish I had been there to see it. Agreeing to marry Stevens, by the way, doesn’t speak highly of your taste. He was a regular ass.” He shrugged. “But that only confuses me further. Possessing poor taste in men doesn’t hinder a woman in the getting of husbands. It generally helps.”
“My God, you are obtuse.” Lydia shook her head. “For a man as outspoken as you are, you are remarkably obtuse. I’m not so much of a catch.”
“That is how you see yourself?”
“Oh, I forgot. I’m the eleventh prettiest girl in all of Leicester.” Her chin raised a notch. “I suppose with that, I ought to be able to catch at least the twenty-second most desirable man—accounting for my perfidy and my tainted past.”
“I have never said that. Surely, in all of Leicester—once we include the surrounding areas—somewhere there must be some man who is undiscriminating enough to marry you.”
Lydia felt curiously light. “I’m sure there is,” she said, very quietly. “And what I most fear is that I am undiscriminating enough to let him do it.”
He didn’t say anything to that.
“Take Captain Stevens, my former fiancé. Not only did he threaten my best friend, but he was putting the most extraordinary pressure my father. And I knew that when he asked. I agreed to
“Oh, too bad,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “And she is not undiscriminating?”
“Alas,” he said, looking straight at her. “She is damnably clever, and I wouldn’t wish her any other way.”
The way he looked at her made her heart thump, her breath catch. For a second, those dark eyes seemed to have no end to them, as if she were looking into a hall of mirrors and seeing reflection upon reflection echoing into infinity.
For just one second, she felt a tug of yearning.
“I think,” Lydia said slowly, “you might have to lower your sights.”
“I’ve tried.” He gave her a rueful grin. “God knows I have. But the view to the heights is so inspiring that every time I convince myself I must move on, I’m charmed anew.”
It was almost impossible to conceive. For all his black humor, Doctor Grantham was attractive. Those velvety black eyes seemed to catch her in and pull her to him. He looked at her with a dangerous, wicked intensity. His lips were full and curled up in a smile. If he hadn’t been so set on another woman, she might have found herself dangerously taken with him.
“What of you?” he said. “What’s your excuse? Yes, yes, I know; you just threw Stevens over last month. But I would have thought that for the eleventh prettiest unmarried woman in all of Leicester, there would be a rush of men to take his place.”
“Do be serious, Doctor Grantham, and think of what you know of me.” Her voice lowered. “I did not become pregnant through immaculate conception. I had sexual intercourse. I am the farthest thing from a virgin.”
He raised his eyebrow at her. “I’m a doctor, Miss Charingford, and even I can’t always tell on close examination whether a woman is a virgin. Besides, the hymen is just a membrano-carneous structure situated at the entrance of the vagina. It is of substantially less physiological relevance to a man in the throes of passion than the vagina itself.”
“Yes, but…” She sputtered. “It’s not about the hymen itself, it’s about—”
“As it is, I’ve had sexual intercourse. And even though it has been too damned long since the last time, I don’t go about trumpeting the fact. You don’t, either. This is an irrelevancy, Miss Charingford.”
She simply sniffed in response to that. “You’re being difficult. I’m fickle, and I have a temper. I not only cried off from my last fiancé, I threw him over by tossing two glasses of wine punch in his face at a dinner party.”
“I wish I had been there to see it. Agreeing to marry Stevens, by the way, doesn’t speak highly of your taste. He was a regular ass.” He shrugged. “But that only confuses me further. Possessing poor taste in men doesn’t hinder a woman in the getting of husbands. It generally helps.”
“My God, you are obtuse.” Lydia shook her head. “For a man as outspoken as you are, you are remarkably obtuse. I’m not so much of a catch.”
“That is how you see yourself?”
“Oh, I forgot. I’m the eleventh prettiest girl in all of Leicester.” Her chin raised a notch. “I suppose with that, I ought to be able to catch at least the twenty-second most desirable man—accounting for my perfidy and my tainted past.”
“I have never said that. Surely, in all of Leicester—once we include the surrounding areas—somewhere there must be some man who is undiscriminating enough to marry you.”
Lydia felt curiously light. “I’m sure there is,” she said, very quietly. “And what I most fear is that I am undiscriminating enough to let him do it.”
He didn’t say anything to that.
“Take Captain Stevens, my former fiancé. Not only did he threaten my best friend, but he was putting the most extraordinary pressure my father. And I knew that when he asked. I agreed to
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