Excerpt - from Alison - the science minded heroine
September 1810The female body was a curious thing. It reacted to an attractive man in the most unusual
way: the pulse quickened and the breathing as well, things swelled and reddened with the
increase of the blood’s flow. Newton’s apple! It was almost as if one had run a footrace—though
far more tingly in certain places. Lady Alison Griffith’s cheeks went warm and she glanced
around the library as if one of the servants, who rushed around ensuring the comfort of the
newly arriving guests, might possibly have heard the thought.
When no one stood in the doorway gaping, she turned and continued taking note of her
reaction to the arrival of the handsome scientist her father often invited to parties as
entertainment for the guests, and himself. The scientist in question, Jonathan Foster, had just
emerged from Papa’s coach—the muscles of his broad shoulders bulging during his descent and
causing her ardent physical reaction. He shielded his face from the rain as he strode toward the
house. She tried hard not to notice the things a proper miss shouldn’t be aware of—his strong
jaw, his wide chest, those warm eyes that shimmered when he spoke about who knew what.
There were times she couldn’t hear a word he was saying for the pounding of her heart, but he
had such a handsome way of putting it. It really wasn’t ladylike, but in trying not to pay attention
to his finer attributes, she only noticed them all the more.
With the wondrous reaction of her body, and her heart, it tore her apart each time he had
proved indifferent during the three years he had been attending her father’s biannual parties. The
last time he’d been unable to say more than two words to her.
“Alison.”
She jumped, a coarse “yeep” flying from her throat before she could stop it, and whirled
about to see Papa striding across the blue and gold patterns of the thick carpet.
“Come here.” Papa’s voice held that tone he reserved for when she resisted his will, which
she rarely intended to do. “I would speak with you. Now.”
She walked toward him, but her eyes didn’t want to leave the object of her study and
returned to the interesting specimen outside the window. She fought her frown when Mr. Foster
moved out of view, but then she saw Papa, who had a habit of rubbing his temples when vexed,
had actually twirled his dark hair out of shape above one ear. She allowed the corners of her
mouth to slide down. Those untidy locks did not bode well.
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