Page 38 of Aurelia

“I’ve a need for more of Mary Neel’s gin. Jest let me fetch me jug.” He cocked his head at her, reminding her of a bird. “Would ye like to come up and see the view?”

“I would love to, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s nae bother. And a finer sight ye’ll never see.”

She walked alongside Walter, which meant they moved at a snaillike pace toward the lighthouse.

The cottage at the base of the tower was charming, and the old man led her through his domain, which was composed of five chambers, making for a generously sized house for a bachelor. But then she recalled what Lord Crewe had said, that his wife had run off, and felt a pang of sympathy for the sweet old man.

“It be sixty-one feet,” he said as he led her up the spiral stairs to the light. “Built in 1787 by Thomas Smith and ‘is stepson, Stevenson,” Old Walter said, not breathing heavily at all—unlike Aurelia, who sounded like an old draught horse by the time they reached the top.

“It is an amazing view,” Aurelia said, slowly walking around the glass-enclosed circle.

“It be higher than the turret towers on the castle,” Old Walter said, sounding as proud as if he’d laid all the stones himself. “This ‘ere be a dioptic lens.” Those were the last comprehensible words she heard while he enthused about the big light with its thick magnifying glass and complicated mechanism for spinning and tilting and raising and lowering the light for cleaning and maintenance.

He broke off, laughing. “Listen to me, rabbitin’ on, aye?”

“It is all very interesting.”

“Yer a kind lass.” His eyes, cloudy with cataracts, slid over the view out the window. “Ah, the white horses be comin’. We best get ye back, miss.”

Aurelia had not noticed the whitecaps until he’d mentioned them. “Is there time?”

He chuckled. “Aye, Old Walter will get ye back safe and sound.”

***

“Your cheeks are rosy. You got a bit of sun today, Miss Burton,” Lord Crewe said that evening at dinner as the footmen set out the second course. “You need to be careful here, it can be deceptively cool thanks to the ocean breezes, but the sun is harsh.”

Aurelia touched her cheek, which still felt hot from her long morning outside. “I will heed your advice in the future.”

“Did you enjoy your first rowing lesson?” he asked, his gaze sliding from Aurelia to his daughter.

“Yes, it was very instructive.” She turned to Celsa. “Thank you for the lesson, Lady Celsa.”

The girl had the grace to blush. Aurelia had not seen her since returning to the castle after Walter rowed her over to the pier, where she’d been fortunate enough to get a ride with a wagon headed to the castle with supplies.

“It was kind of Walter to row you back to the island,” the earl said. “I apologize for my daughter’s ill-mannered behavior in leaving you at his mercy. And no, Celsa,” he added, turning his cold gaze on his daughter, “you needn’t glare at Miss Burton. She did not tell me about your childish behavior, it was your governess who informed me that you came back to the house alone but with two horses. Apologize,” he said, the word low and menacing.

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

“Not to me.”

Celsa turned to Aurelia, the very image of misery. “I’m sorry, Miss Burton.”

Aurelia did not know what to say, but Lord Crewe did not give her the opportunity as he said to his daughter, “I will see you in the library after dinner, Celsa.”

“Yes, Papa.”

He turned away from her, his expression softening when it landed on Aurelia. She squirmed, hoping Lady Celsa did not notice how her father looked more happily on just about anything and anyone other than his daughter. Unfortunately, a quick glance at the girl told her she hoped in vain.

“Did Walter give you a tour of the lighthouse before he brought you back?”

“Yes, he did and it was fascinating.”

Lord Crewe spoke about the process of building the lighthouse, which had been done during his father’s tenure as Laird of Crewe.

Mr. Montgomery chimed in with details his cousin had forgotten and the remainder of the meal passed quite pleasurably—at least for the adults. It was clear from Celsa’s expression of dread that she could think of nothing but the impending meeting with her father.