Page 33 of On a Midnight Clear
Neither version said much during the meal.
After her father said grace, Stella asked about the symposium, and as one would expect with a quartet of academics at the table, the conversation never veered back to her.
A shame, that. Frank hungered for knowledge about the lady sitting across from him with the thick brown hair and big brown eyes.
So far, all this evening had taught him was that she was a good cook and didn’t mind being ignored by the men at her table.
Well, most of the men. Frank had not ignored her in the slightest. A fact she’d have to be obtuse not to comprehend, and from what he knew of her from her letters, she was any thing but obtuse.
However, each time she caught him staring, her mouth had flattened instead of lifting at the corners.
He’d checked. After taking a heartbeat to gather his courage and lift his gaze out of his supper, where it inevitably dropped each time her eyes found his.
Wouldn’t a woman who welcomed a man’s attention smile if that man showed interest?
Frank contributed few comments to the dinner conversation.
Even Muir’s obvious baiting by misquoting Peano’s axioms failed to draw him from his distraction for more than the moment it took to point out that not all the axioms utilized first-order logic.
Peano’s principles of arithmetic clearly stated that the ninth axiom employed second-order logic.
Hmm. Second-order logic. Frank sat a little straighter as his gaze slid back to the woman pouring after-dinner coffee for the men.
What if he considered Stella a set instead of an individual ?
A grouping of numerous variables, even those that seemed incongruous, that all related and informed the identity of the whole.
If Stella was both the woman who wanted to share her sunset walks by the river with him and the woman who sought to avoid him when he was sitting in her dining room, a logical explanation must exist to correctly define her behavior. He just had to puzzle it out.
Frank grinned as anticipation eradicated his discouragement. Nothing like a good puzzle to raise a mathematician’s spirits.
Yet one couldn’t puzzle out variables if they were beyond his range of observation.
Frank frowned at the door Stella had disappeared through.
It no longer quivered on its hinges. How long ago had she departed?
One minute? Two? He glanced back at the table and counted coffee cups.
Four. In front of the men only. No cup sat at her place. She didn’t plan to return.
That would never do. If he didn’t speak to her tonight, he might not get another chance. Not if she chose to avoid him the entire time he was in town.
Excusing himself from the table, Frank exited the dining room in the direction of the entry hall and the small lavatory Ignatius had pointed out when they’d first arrived.
He diverted at the last moment, however, and searched out another point of entry for the kitchen.
Spying a doorway a few paces down on the left side of the hall, he tiptoed toward it and peeked inside.
She sat at a small table, book in one hand, coffee cup in the other.
A peaceful scene. One he oughtn’t disturb.
Nevertheless, he squared his shoulders and crossed the threshold.
“Miss Barrington,” he whispered.
She gasped, dropping her book onto the table with a rather loud thump as she spun in her chair to face him. “Mr. Stentz?” Thankfully she matched his hushed tone and didn’t scream out her surprise. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“May I ... speak with you?”
Her gaze flew to the swinging door that led to the dining room. “I don’t think—”
“Please?” His mother had always insisted that word carried magical properties, and for the first time, he believed it might be possible. What else could explain Stella swallowing her protest and offering a reluctant nod?
She motioned for him to take the chair opposite hers.
Hope swelled within him. “Thank you.” He hurried to seat himself and then leaned forward, keeping his voice pitched low.
“Miss Barrington ... Stella...” Was it permissible to use her given name?
They did in their letters, but perhaps things were different in person.
“Miss Barrington. It’s my hope that you would permit me to call upon you while I’m in town. ”
She shook her head, and Frank’s heart deflated.
“You are under no obligation to call on me, Mr. Stentz.” A smile curved her lips this time, but her eyes failed to illuminate.
“And I will completely understand if you wish to cease our correspondence. I know I’m not the type of woman men wish to call upon. ”
What? All Frank could manage was a trio of blinks as he tried to assimilate a piece of information that made no logical sense whatsoever. “I assure you, my intentions are quite genuine.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, but I’m well aware that my appearance is, shall we say, lacking.”
She smiled again, and the sad acceptance that accompanied it made him unaccountably angry. And confused. She thought herself lacking? Lacking what? All the appropriate parts were present and arranged in the typical manner.
“I see nothing lacking.”
Pink colored her cheeks. “No need to be polite, sir. I saw you divert your eyes when you first beheld me.” He began to protest, but she held up a hand. “It’s all right. There’s a reason I’ve reached the ripe old age of twenty-eight without having a suitor.”
Her insinuation made his jaw clench. He looked her straight in the eye and refused to let his nervousness divert his gaze again. “You’re right. There is a reason you haven’t yet had a suitor. Because until today, I was in Massachusetts. I apologize for my tardiness.”
Now it was her turn to blink. Once. Twice. Three times. “You’re in earnest?”
He nodded. Then, just to ensure there was no misunderstanding, he added words. “I am.”
Slowly, her lips curved into another smile, a small one that didn’t even show her teeth. Yet it caused his pulse to pound in a terribly chaotic fashion. For this one, small as it was, reached her eyes and warmed her entire countenance.