sheet of paper for over an hour without making a mark. Allegedly he was working on his treatise refuting neptunism, the theory that rocks had been formed primarily from oceanic sediment and that volcanic activity was quite unimportant. He had been making observations and analyzing data on the topic for years, and the sentences should flow easily from his pen.
Instead, when he looked at the paper, he saw only Antonia, in all her brimming life and changeable moods. He had still not overcome his sense of wonder that such a glorious creature actually wanted him.
While Simon realized that he was considered handsome, he knew himself for an absentminded and scholarly man without great charm or social skill. Certainly he was no special prize for a woman of Lady Antonia’s birth, wealth, and incomparable loveliness.
Yet, in spite of his shortcomings, Antonia had been as dazzled by him as he had been by her. He had won a woman he would never have dared dream of. For a few days —scarcely more than a handful of hours—he had known unadulterated happiness. Then, as subtle strains developed between him and his betrothed, he had come to fear that he could never be the kind of man she wanted and deserved.
Ever since confessing his doubts with Judith Winslow, he had been pondering her suggestion that he and Antonia needed more time. Indeed, he had thought of almost nothing else. Logic had led him to the decision that they should delay their marriage.
Simon was sure that he was right. He was equally sure that his impetuous intended would not take such a suggestion well. In fact, to make it was to risk losing her.
He sighed and removed his spectacles to rub at his temples. Much as he disliked brangling, he could not delay speaking with her any longer. The wedding was less than a week away.
Even as he was thinking the words, a knock sounded on the door of the study, followed almost immediately by Antonia’s bright head. Her cinnamon eyes were sparkling, and at the sight of her he felt a tight knot of pain at what he must say. Surely he could convince her that a postponement would benefit them both.
“Are you interruptible?” she asked hopefully.
He rose to his feet. “Very much so. I have made no progress today. Besides”—he drew a deep breath—”I must talk to you.”
For a moment wary alarm showed in her eyes. Then she said sunnily, “Very well, but first I have a surprise for you.”
Since Antonia looked ready to burst with her surprise, Simon willingly followed her outside, knowing it was cowardly to be so relieved at a delay.
She led him to the front door of an empty stone cottage some distance from the main house. Taking his hand, she said, “You must close your eyes now.”
He obliged, unable to resist smiling at her childlike enthusiasm. One of the things he loved about Antonia was the zest she had for life, for making everything and everyone around her seem brighter and more alive.
She steered him through the door. “You can open your eyes now.”
Simon obeyed her order, then gasped in shock. In front of him was all the complicated paraphernalia of a very large reflecting telescope.
As he stared at the pieces of equipment, Antonia said apologetically, “It’s my wedding gift to you. I’m sorry it isn’t assembled, but I knew you would prefer to supervise that yourself.”
When he didn’t answer, she continued in a hesitant voice, “If you intend to erect the telescope here at Thornleigh, this building could be converted to an observatory, but of course you may prefer to move it to Kent.”
Simon’s emotions were chaotic. Such an instrument was fabulously expensive. Even more than money, Antonia had expended great thought and effort to find something special.
She had chosen well. He would live on bread and water for a year to have the use of such a telescope. It was a tribute to her efficiency that she had located and acquired such an unusual item in a fortnight, without even leaving
Instead, when he looked at the paper, he saw only Antonia, in all her brimming life and changeable moods. He had still not overcome his sense of wonder that such a glorious creature actually wanted him.
While Simon realized that he was considered handsome, he knew himself for an absentminded and scholarly man without great charm or social skill. Certainly he was no special prize for a woman of Lady Antonia’s birth, wealth, and incomparable loveliness.
Yet, in spite of his shortcomings, Antonia had been as dazzled by him as he had been by her. He had won a woman he would never have dared dream of. For a few days —scarcely more than a handful of hours—he had known unadulterated happiness. Then, as subtle strains developed between him and his betrothed, he had come to fear that he could never be the kind of man she wanted and deserved.
Ever since confessing his doubts with Judith Winslow, he had been pondering her suggestion that he and Antonia needed more time. Indeed, he had thought of almost nothing else. Logic had led him to the decision that they should delay their marriage.
Simon was sure that he was right. He was equally sure that his impetuous intended would not take such a suggestion well. In fact, to make it was to risk losing her.
He sighed and removed his spectacles to rub at his temples. Much as he disliked brangling, he could not delay speaking with her any longer. The wedding was less than a week away.
Even as he was thinking the words, a knock sounded on the door of the study, followed almost immediately by Antonia’s bright head. Her cinnamon eyes were sparkling, and at the sight of her he felt a tight knot of pain at what he must say. Surely he could convince her that a postponement would benefit them both.
“Are you interruptible?” she asked hopefully.
He rose to his feet. “Very much so. I have made no progress today. Besides”—he drew a deep breath—”I must talk to you.”
For a moment wary alarm showed in her eyes. Then she said sunnily, “Very well, but first I have a surprise for you.”
Since Antonia looked ready to burst with her surprise, Simon willingly followed her outside, knowing it was cowardly to be so relieved at a delay.
She led him to the front door of an empty stone cottage some distance from the main house. Taking his hand, she said, “You must close your eyes now.”
He obliged, unable to resist smiling at her childlike enthusiasm. One of the things he loved about Antonia was the zest she had for life, for making everything and everyone around her seem brighter and more alive.
She steered him through the door. “You can open your eyes now.”
Simon obeyed her order, then gasped in shock. In front of him was all the complicated paraphernalia of a very large reflecting telescope.
As he stared at the pieces of equipment, Antonia said apologetically, “It’s my wedding gift to you. I’m sorry it isn’t assembled, but I knew you would prefer to supervise that yourself.”
When he didn’t answer, she continued in a hesitant voice, “If you intend to erect the telescope here at Thornleigh, this building could be converted to an observatory, but of course you may prefer to move it to Kent.”
Simon’s emotions were chaotic. Such an instrument was fabulously expensive. Even more than money, Antonia had expended great thought and effort to find something special.
She had chosen well. He would live on bread and water for a year to have the use of such a telescope. It was a tribute to her efficiency that she had located and acquired such an unusual item in a fortnight, without even leaving
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