Midsummer Moon by Laura Kinsale Read Free Book Online Page A

fine, gentle lady, she must be turnin’ over in her grave,” Thaddeus went on, spooning a further heap of marmalade onto the growing mound on Ransom's plate. “And we promised her—lying there on her deathbed, she was—me and Theo promised her we'd take care of that little girl. And we done fine, too, until here comes Mr. Fancy Dancy"—preserves splattered across the bacon and dripped from the wrinkled tomato—"without a by-your-leave, all set to turn our Lady Claresta's little girl into a wh—"
    " Don't you say it. ” Ransom came to his feet, shoving his chair aside. In the sudden silence his words filled the air with soft menace. “If you value what's left of your life, old man, you won't finish that sentence."
    Thaddeus drew himself up, his bald head coming no higher than two inches below Ransom's shoulder. The manservant glared at Ransom for a long moment and then began vigorously scraping the last of the marmalade out of the pot and spooning it all over Ransom's food. “Bullyin’ meself for your own sins,” he muttered. “Hit me, hit me, see if it makes ye feel a right one. Go on, now, while I ain't lookin'. While me back's turned, that's the way. Me old neck'll snap like a twig, I warrant. I won't feel a thing. Won't have to worry for me poor mistress no more, won't have to work on me hands and knees in the garden, won't have to—"
    "Oh, for the love of God.” Ransom flung his tattered napkin down onto the table. “Go saddle up my horse.” He kicked the chair out of his way. “On second thought, don't touch my horse. If your cooking skills are any example, the beast would be lame before it reached the front gate."
    "Where're ye goin'?” Thaddeus asked, hope and belligerence mingled in his querulous old man's voice.
    "I'm going to Barnstaple. I'll be back with the bishop this afternoon."
    From the window of her laboratory, Merlin watched him ride out of the dooryard.
    So.
    He was gone.
    It left a funny feeling inside her, that departure. Funny and quivery and sad, a lot like the way she had felt when Uncle Dorian had died, but worse, for this time she felt it was somehow a failure of her own, that this man who had arrived in her life like a burst of electricity had wanted to befriend her but had found her lacking. Last night he had held her in his arms, after his strange, angry laughter faded, and then when she'd awakened, he'd been gone.
    She'd bathed in cold water as usual, except this time it wasn't usual, for she'd washed away all the traces of the astonishing experience of the evening before. She'd tiptoed to the door and heard him, downstairs with Thaddeus. An odd panic drove her away when what she'd really wanted was to see him again—to touch him, to hear the laughter in his voice.
    Merlin, Merlin, I love you. Do you believe me?
    She looked down at the leather-bound stack of papers she'd assembled. Twelve dozen, she'd counted out, and then in a burst of hope added a few extra, just in case he had more scientific friends than he had first imagined.
    But he was gone now. Merlin bit her lip and rubbed at the binding with her fingertip.
    Well, she thought. Perhaps I'll donate them to the universities myself .
    The bell on the speaking box shrilled. Merlin swallowed the stupid lump in her throat. He hadn't even taken the speaking box, in the end—the invention he had come for.
    The bell rang again. Thaddeus, Merlin knew. There was no one else to call her. She sat waiting, knowing that he would give up soon. He always did. And the stairs to the solar were too much for his ancient legs.
    She was safe here. She was alone with her work, as she'd always been. After the bell went silent, she slid off her stool and began to dig amidst the confusion on the table, looking for the last equations that she'd balanced before Mr. Ransom Duke had exploded into her quiet life and then faded out again.
    Her dogged concentration faltered at noon, when she saw Thaddeus carry a tray for his brother across the yard to