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the pages of her books. She wrote what she had never known. And now, at her advanced age, she acknowledged the fact that she would never know of such things.
    So now, walking arm-in-arm with the handsome Mr. Augustine, she was keenly aware that her feelings of attraction for the man were never to be reciprocated. She was not the sort of woman he could find attractive, but he was being exceptionally kind to the old maiden lady as he took her for a walk to the lake. She mused that it was most likely being done as a favor to his sister, making sure that the single woman was being suitably entertained. Jane smiled to herself as she decided to pretend she did not care. At least this experience would be good fodder for her future writing.
    After crossing the grassy expanse they arrived at the edge of the lake, where small cattails grew along the water line, Gabriel peered out over the lake to the manor house.
    “You know, when my sister left our family home to marry Lord Dartfourd, she was rather bereft at leaving the only home she had ever known. Now, as Lady of this perfectly situated home, she is most content and happy.”
    Jane could hear the note of affection for his sister in Mr. Augustine’s voice. After walking all the distance to the lake without once looking his way, she decided to risk glancing up at his face. The same affection she heard in his voice was evident in his expression.
    “You are close to your sister, I take it?”
    “Indeed. Though since her marriage and the births of her children, we are not as close as we were in our youth. And in truth, I am not the man she used to know.” Those last words were said under his breath, and she wasn’t sure if she was meant to have heard them. Jane decided to err on the side of caution and made no comment.
    Visibly shaking off a brief moment of melancholy, Gabriel turned and led them along the lakeside. He asked her about her published books, their road to publishing, any other books she was planning, her choices of characters and settings. His questions came fast and furiously, and she was delighted to hear someone, especially a man, have such an interest in her work. Only her brother Henry showed such a level of interest in her writing. Three-quarters of an hour sped by as they conversed on her favorite subject.
    Laughing about the socially inept Mr. Collins of Pride and Prejudice and how he was indeed based on several such vicars she had known, Jane and Gabriel came to the opposite side of the lake. Jane assumed they would now make their way to the house and go indoors, but instead he led her on, into a small stand of trees that grew just feet from the lake. Once inside the copse, she could see that they were sheltered from the house. Realizing she was now very much alone with Mr. Augustine, Jane could feel the familiar warmth of a blush creeping up her chest, to her neck, and finally onto her face. Were he a much more average man, in appearance as well as character and temperament, she was certain she would not now be feeling the fluttering of her heart, and the telltale warmth on her cheeks.
    But Mr. Augustine was no average man.
    She had been gazing at the lake as she was assessing her feelings and the situation, and could now feel his eyes on her. Keeping her chin down and head very still, she ventured to peek up at him out of the corner of her eye. When her eyes met his she quickly glanced away, but after a thorough admonishment of herself and her silliness she dared to look into them again. Dark, so dark she could hardly see a pupil within them, and lazily half open, his eyes appeared drunken, though she knew he had not had a drop to drink. They were now standing mere inches apart, so the only distance from his face to hers was the difference in their heights. Jane couldn’t stop staring into the liquid eyes. It was as if she had been taken prisoner by those eyes, and could only do as they commanded. Another new feeling, experience. Though nervous beyond