I try to compose myself and act as if it is just another social call. Just a new friend with whom I shall have tea and talk, and leave as if it is nothing – but I keep thinking of that kiss. Of the way she looked at me. And smiled. And drew closer to me. And I was excited. And although I knew what was going to happen, it still caught me unawares. And I thought for a moment that I would recoil, but my body did the opposite; it leaned in and a heat rose in me and all the world around me disappeared and for those moments I was lost, swimming in the middle of a wide ocean. I was lost but found. Found but lost.

I feel my pulse racing at the thought of her. How I long to kiss her again, but it only occurred because we happened to be alone. My aunt insists on accompanying me again today; I believe she just wants to pry at Shibden Hall and seek a better acquaintance with the Lister family. I wonder if I will even be able to look Miss Lister in the eye without blushing, without stammering my words. Without fainting.

Do I fear her? Or desire her? Or fear the fact that I long for her? It is strictly forbidden for men to kiss each other; I can only assume the same is for women. It will be very frowned upon. I am already the ridicule of the Walker family, the prosperous manufacturers and merchants, related to every elite family in Halifax.

Despite my inheritance, I have not found an appropriate suitor and remain single at twenty-nine. I have turned men down, much to my family’s dismay. But why should I marry? I ask over and over. Why should I hand over my wealth and independence to someone else? Why cannot I just… be alone? I suppose I would be, if it weren’t for Miss Lister. After our chance reunion, whereby my aunt suggested we reacquaint ourselves with our neighbour who has returned from overseas travels – and suddenly my small world has been turned upside down, for a thought has entered my head that I would never have dared to imagine. My options were to marry a man, or to spend my life alone. But now, because of a kiss, I dare to wonder that perhaps there is a third option. An option that may provide a happiness I have never before imagined. I could remain independent but have the company I crave, and not just company, but excitement, and, dare I say it, pleasure.

But who am I to deserve happiness?