open, scooped up the hem of her gown, and jumped down.
She heard the footman’s grunt on the opposite side of the carriage, heard the horses shuffle in their traces, and then heard only the wind rushing past her ears as she raced toward Septimus’s observatory. No one chased her. She didn’t need to run, except for a desperation to speak to him that had been brewing for two days.
Morning sun had dried the dew on the grass, so she didn’t stumble as she drew closer to the stone tower, but her heart stumbled in her chest. Beating wildly and then thudding awkwardly, it felt as if it had missed a few beats. She planted a hand on the cool stones near the observatory’s entrance to catch her breath. Tipping her head back, she looked up to see if she could get a glimpse of him, but there was no sign of anyone above.
“Winifred!”
Win spun at the sound of her name. Aunt Elinor stood near the carriage, waving frantically.
“Go on without me,” she called back. Cupping her hands over her mouth, she tried more loudly, “I shall join you very soon.” Though, in truth, she had no idea how long it might take to walk to the castle.
After a few minutes of looking forlorn, her aunt climbed back into the carriage, peeking her head out one last time as the carriage rolled away slowly.
“You should have gone with them.” Septimus stood on the bottom steps of the observatory, arms crossed, his brow creased in irritation. He wore no coat or cravat, only trousers and a snow-white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Are you not attending the wedding ceremony?” The words came out in a jumble, but she was grateful she could find her tongue at all.
The sight of Septimus was such a relief, her pulse buzzed. She felt dizzy. Never had she imagined a person could look so wonderful and miserable at the same time. Her first thought was that she yearned to hold him. To smooth away those fearsome lines in his forehead with her fingertip. To kiss him until they were both breathless.
“May I come up?” she asked, when he merely stared at her silently.
He glanced up into his tower, assessing the space as if he’d never seen it before. “There’s not much room.”
Win approached until the toes of her boots brushed the edge of the bottom step. “We can stand close together.”
He tightened his crossed arms and bounced on the heels of his boots. She sensed his frustration, as if it rippled toward her through the air. A bit like the sensations she received from specters when they appeared.
Then he shocked her by reaching for her hand. “The stairs are uneven.” He looked at her directly for the first time. “You’ll have to let me hold onto you.”
Without waiting for her to reply, he turned his back on her and started up the stairs. After every step, he glanced back. Each time, all she ached to say tangled in her throat.
Strange smells wafted down as they ascended the tower. Win’s nose twitched at the aroma of metal and sulfur and something burning. When she coughed, Septimus cast a concerned look her way.
“One of my experiments went awry this morning. The smell will dissipate soon,” he told her over his shoulder.
The final step up was high. Septimus turned to her, braced his hands on her waist, and lifted her onto the roughhewn wooden floor of his observatory. Rather than release her, he held her close, taking in her fancy coiffure and the special gown she’d never worn before.
“Lovely,” he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself.
She squeezed his upper arm where she held onto him, and his muscles hardened and flexed under her fingers. He released her from his hold and, with a slow sweep around the circular room, pointed out his mechanical devices.
“Some are mundane,” he told her. “A thermometer, barometer, a device to measure the direction of the wind, but that is a new design for an electrical cell that will harness the power of a lightning strike.” He kept he gaze trained on her as he spoke of his devices. When he finished, a palpable tension charged the air between them.
Just when Win took a breath to speak from her heart, he broke the silence.
“Forgive me,” he said hoarsely. Then he cleared his throat, took a step closer, and tried again. “I’m sorry, Win.” He stared at the wall above her head a