Love. Victor woke with love on his mind, and a desire to formulate it.
However, after breakfast, Linette followed him up the stairs as he headed to the sanctuary of his office. “You need to stop this and be with me.”
He was unsure what this meant. “I-I … h-have things to d-do.”
“And we need to get you help for the way you talk!” She laughed as she strode around the narrow room, poking at papers. She paused at the desk under the window and picked up a cog. “You speak so silly. You can’t be a gentleman and keep speaking like that.”
“B-born … th-this way.”
“Let us walk outside.”
She said walk, not stroll. But he agreed to his bride’s suggestion.
They traced the outline of the garden until Linette declared herself tired. Once back inside, he plunked her down in a drawing room chair and fled outside to the cow barn. He expected a shipment soon, but hiding in the barn making minute adjustments to his press kept him out of the house. The cool, dark space allowed him to ponder the importance of love. He hadn’t permitted Bert’s advice any significance last night as he followed the first tankard with a second, and a third.
I suppose this marks me as a man, drowning my sorrows in drink.
But he wanted love. He knew what it was to crave something. Like his desire to complete his mechanical press, though, there was a prodigious difference between an accomplishment and a relationship.
When he imagined giving and receiving love, he had few models. However, he had experienced love. His siblings’s love. Love of a grandmother when he was a child. And when he imagined romantic love, Pen’s image popped into his mind.
How was it he felt increasingly repulsed by his affianced bride and attracted to her maid?

Excerpt from Inventing Love

Bedroom Eyes Book 3,

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