on him and planted herself against it. Her heart thrashed so loud in her ears, she doubted she’d be able to hear the sea if she was standing close enough to get her boots wet.
With a hand to her chest, she willed her pulse to steady, even as her imagination galloped ahead. Would he smile at her again? Reach out and take her hand to keep her from tripping over the craggy ground? What if she twisted her ankle and he was forced to carry her back to the cottage? Through the rain?
Fanciful nonsense. Glancing out the window, Win let out a long breath. The day was cloudless and clear, with no sign of rain. Being carried uphill by an earl wasn’t in the forecast either. Stop being such a goose.
She was going on this outing to revel in the beauty of the sea. Nothing more. Lord Carwarren was kind to her because she was his godmother’s niece. Nothing more. They would end this week’s visit as acquaintances. Nothing more.
Her disastrous Season had taught her the folly of putting any faith in handsome gentlemen.
Win slipped her arms into her pelisse and began working the ribbons of the lovely garment her aunt had ordered made for her. The vibrant Mazarin blue was the shade of Win’s mother’s eyes, and her siblings too. Of all the Gissings, only she had been cursed with eyes leeched of color.
“I’m ready,” Win announced a moment later as she opened her bedchamber door, only to find the hallway empty. Making her way downstairs, she detected the delicious scents of herbs brewing and something yeasty and sweet baking. She had half a mind to seek out her Aunt Elinor and ensure she truly did approve of this unchaperoned outing, but Lord Carwarren awaited her at the front door.
He grinned as she approached. “That color becomes you, Lady Winifred.”
Flattery already? If he kept it up, she’d spend the whole morning blushing, as she had last night. ‘Thank you, my lord, but I don’t require compliments.” Before coming to live with Aunt Elinor, she’d had few enough to keep count. They only made her uncomfortable, as if every light in a room had been turned her way.
“Fair enough. But what if I have more praise to offer?” He pulled each cuff of his gloves tight before tipping her a sly look.
“You can keep them to yourself.” Win tied the ribbon of her bonnet under her chin. “Much as you did your connection to Aunt Cornelia last evening.” She returned his grin before sweeping past him and out the front door.
Mercy, he liked Lady Winifred’s spirit. Almost as much as he enjoyed the momentary battle that played out on her face while she weighed whether to say something polite or precisely what popped into her head.
He hoped she’d continue choosing the latter.
As they ascended the rise toward the sea, he sensed her eagerness. Hands clenched, she stretched to peek over the edge of the cliff. She didn’t seem to mind that, despite the tight fit of her bonnet, the breeze had loosened wisps of her hair. Tendrils lashed her face before dancing about her shoulders, and Lady Winifred made no effort to corral them.
“Will we be stopping at your observatory, my lord?” She cast a quick glance back at him. When he shook his head, she picked up her pace until they were well past the structure.
Sep’s work called to him, but he would not tarry. He was in the habit of going up each day to take the readings on his barometer and other measuring devices that aided him in predicting when the next lightning strike would come. But he wouldn’t delay this outing with Lady Winifred or the errand he planned to attend to near the beach. Considering the quickness of her gait, he doubted she’d have the patience to wait.
Catching up to her, he asked, “May I petition a favor of you?”
“Possibly.” Her wary tone vied with the look of interest in her eyes. “What is it?”
“Might we dispense with honorifics and formality? Call me Septimus. And allow me to address you as Winifred?”
“No.”
Sep sighed and waited for a recitation of reasons. Impropriety. Too much familiarity.
“Not Winifred. Call me Win.”
“Win.” He tested the word on a long exhale. “Win,” he said again, enjoying the sound as much as the privilege of calling her by the nickname. He preferred shorter names. Why waste time with a list of names and honorifics when one could spend the time studying?
“How