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Charles browsed quietly for a while and then excitedly showed me the book he'd found.

"Here it is, I knew we had something on this."

We both sat down on the comfortable deeply-buttoned leather couch and he told me how he had suspected that more would be found when he first read the book.

Sitting so closely beside him, I could feel his heartbeat, and smell him - he smelled wonderful. I was more intent on watching him than reading, if I were honest, but I paid attention closely and he seemed so relaxed sharing this with me that I could feel a tangible bond growing between us rapdily. Was this romance? Not how anyone had ever described it to me. They had always told me that men were put off by women who liked books. Clearly, this one wasn't. As deeply into his subject as he was, every so often he turned to look at me, and saw I was hanging on his every word. Oh! He had beautiful eyes, the deepest blue I had ever seen. Yes, of course, they seemed a little smaller behind the strong lenses of his glasses, but as they were so large to begin with, it didn't seem to matter. And, yes, his eyes were obviously very bad. Even with those strong glasses he seemed to want to hold the book quite close, and then seemed aware he was doing this, and would back it off a little, glancing at me as did so. I was certain he felt very self-conscious about this.

We studied all morning, and at lunch Charles' father announced that the family were going shopping and I'd be welcome to join them. I looked at Charles, who immediately seemed to know what I was thinking. I was quite taken aback in fact, as he told his parents in a quite matter-of-fact way that we had made other plans, which wasn't true. But my mind was racing at what he had planned.

Once we were alone in the house I was slightly disappointed to see him return to the library, but, happy just to be with him, I followed smiling.

He sat down, picked up the book........and then put it back down again. He sighed deeply, then laughed. I must have looked very puzzled.

"Penny you are a delight" he said at last. "Are you real?" and he laughed again. He was a beautiful, beautiful man. When he laughed it was as if his pure soul filled the room. I assured him I was quite real, and, deciding my smile was not enough to assure him of my feelings towards him, I reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. He looked down at it, and then at me, and then at the celing.

"I am a normal man Penny," he said "With normal feelings inside. Everyone assumes I'm some sort of robot because I seem to live my life in books and artefacts. Sometimes it's easier to let them think that. But you.............you seem to see inside of me, I feel you searching my soul."

I loved listening to his voice, but at that point there were no words. My feelings were too powerful to explain anyway, and there was only one way I could express myself. So, very slowly, to ensure that if - somehow, impossibly - I was picking up the wrong message, I could backtrack, I unbuttoned my blouse. Watching his face, with no hesitation on it at all, I knew I was doing the right thing. His face lit up even more as he saw I was wearing nothing under my blouse, and he needed very little encouragement to place his hand on my breast. Doing so, he kissed me gently, then looked at me again and smiled. Suddenly, he took the lead. Expertly, as if he were Don Juan, he undressed me, caressed me, and made exquisite love to me. Throughout the entire beautiful experience he never spoke a word, nor did he go more than a few moments without smiling. And when it was over, I was satisfied, and surprised, and I had to ask..................

"Where did you learn...............?"

He looked delighted at my acknowledgement of his expertise. He was not only the most intelligent man I had ever met, but the best lover. He hid that light under a bushel, and no mistake. But he wasn't telling me much....

"I spent several years abroad, you know that. Women overseas are different to English women, they see things differently."

The explanation would have to do for now, it was not my business anyway, but as we held each other close, never wanting to let go, I suddenly realized that without comment he had done something quite strange - not that I was complaining. Throughout our love-making Charles had continued to wear his glasses. Yes, I understood he needed to see, but I was also quite sure that normally people did not do this. Was he really so shy of them? Or at all? He hadn't mentioned them, hadn't nervously played with them. It was as if they were a part of his physical body, and not a separate thing at all. But, oh how I wanted to ask. I had so many questions, I didn't know where to begin. I wanted him to broach the subject, but would he? Whether because he was very comfortable about them, or very uncomfortable, would he say anything?

In my family glasses were looked down on as a flaw. People couldn't have flaws. And thinking of my family, I suddenly had a delicious thought....what would they say when they found out about me and Charles! I couldn't wait to find out. And what was it between me and Charles anyway? Is that how a relationship customarily begins? With sex on the library couch? Hardly a courtship!

When Charles' family returned we had made ourselves look decent, and were sitting reading, but I had the feeling that they knew. Even Louisa, yes, mostly Louisa, and her eyes blazed with resentment. She knew.

When I left, Charles slipped a note into my hand, and it was easy to leave knowing I was taking this with me. Returning home I was quiet and secretive. I didn't want to speak to Victoria until I'd read my letter, and I didn't want to read my letter until I reached my tree.

I had sat under my tree reading throughout my childhood. It was the place I would go to be me. To learn about the world, especially the ancient world, and to just....get away. This was my special place, so it was fitting that I should sit there to read my special letter.

"Dear Penny, I feel I should thank you for the wonderful weekend we spent together. I have, as I confessed, been with other women, and I have loved them for their minds or their bodies, but in you I have found someone who I can love for both. I realize that perfect weekends cannot always be repeated, but I hope, and believe that this is just the beginning of our relationship, and I know you plan to return next week, which I look forward to. But there is something I should tell you, which I couldn't say out loud.

Everyone sees me as a big pair of thick, heavy glasses first and a man second. I'm used to this, and most of the time I am past caring. But for the first time in many years, when I saw you in your Grandmother's garden I felt self-conscious, and this feeling prevailed when you surprised me with your visit. And yet, in spending time with you, you are the first person in a very long time who has in fact seen past my glasses. You may find this surprising but most people don't make eye contact with me. Maybe they feel they are staring more than they ought at something strange, or the lenses in my glasses are too distracting, I don't know. But you looked at me properly, which nobody else does. You never wavered. You looked INSIDE. Thank you for doing that, it means a lot to me. It makes me feel like a real man.

You are probably wondering about my glasses though. It's only natural, you're a curious person. When I see you next week, I will talk to you about them, get it out in the open. See you then. Love, Charles"

I held that note to my heart, and I even cried a little. It was sp precious and special. My God, I was in love! Yes! Me! And not with the type of man they expected either, I had found a REAL man..............

Victoria was chatting on the telephone when I went in, and not surprisingly, it was to Louisa. My news was not so new. Pity, I was looking forward to breaking it to her, but as it was she only had Louisa's version. I continued in to the dining room and sat down for supper, and as expected, she accosted me with questions.

"Are you quite mad?" she asked me.

"To do what?"

"Louisa knows what you and Charles did you know. I'm telling Father."

"Oh PLEASE Vicky, I'm 22 years old, and he's not my first."

"Oh I know that! But I mean, this is Charles we're talking about! You can't play around with men like THAT!"

"Like what?"

"Eccentrics!"

"Eccentric? He's your best friend's brother!"

"Well, yes but you know what I mean. He's.........different."

"Yes, yes, he is. He's sincere, and deep, and funny. He's the nicest man I've ever met."

"You just took advantage of him because he's desperate."

I couldn't believe I was hearing this. It had to have come from Louisa. How could she have such a low opinion of her brother? Maybe she was jealous.........

"Well, I'm sorry if other people don't like it, but Charles and I are getting along extremely well, I'm going to see him again next week. Consider us a couple, take it or leave it."

"Look, Penny, OK, maybe it's none of my business, but...........Lousia has told me how badly hurt he's been before. What will he do when you decide to stop seeing him? You'll break his heart!"

"Why would I stop seeing him?"

"I mean when you are looking for a serious relationship...you know! When you're looking for a husband!"

Poor old-fashioned Victoria. What would I do with her. Right then, driving her crazy was enough........

"Perhaps he will be my husband? You never know........"

And my sister was speechless. Locked in her own little world of do's and don'ts, of traditions and taboos, I had broken every "rule" in her book, all in one go. It felt awfully good actually. All week I tortured her by telling my family openly and delightedly about my weekend, missing out the part on the couch of course, and ignoring their less than enthusiastic responses. My parents were tactful, they thought the Wilmots to be very respectable, if slightly Bohemian by their standards, and I had always been a puzzle to them. Perhaps they expected me to end up with an academic. Anyway, it was Victoria who was scheming to cause trouble, and Friday afternoon my Grandmother appeared unannounced. Quel surpris.

"I'm sure he's a very nice young man Penelope, but you must consider bloodlines. If you marry him, your children will inherit his disability and his unusual intellect, this isn't good for the family. Bad enough that you are a girl, and cannot carry on the family name. Quite beyond the pale to marry a mad scientist. Whatever next."

And having said her piece, she left.

I got the train to London anyway, ignoring all this nonsense. Charles met me at the station. He looked happy and so different to the way he's greeted me the week before. After dropping my bags off he suggested a walk to his favourite park, and I happily agreed. As little time spent with Louisa giving me the evil eye as possible.

"I promised to explain to you Penny..........."

Already he was feeling a little awkward, but he fought on. He took off his glasses and handed them to me. I didn't know what to do or say. I held them up, didn't actually put them on, it was enough just to look through the lenses from there - I could tell they were very strong indeed, and I wouldn't be able to see through them myself. I turned to look at him, to see what he looked like without them, that handsome face naked. He looked lost, obviously unable to focus on me, he seemed to be looking right through me, it was quite distracting. His unfocussed eyes seemed to turn in very slightly, and he obviously knew this as he broke the silence with,

"I look a little cross-eyed without my glasses on, don't I?"

It was hard to answer. Did I say 'yes' to demonstrate that I wasn't bothered? Or dismiss it for the same reason? He was expecting honesty, to say 'no' would be to insult his intelligence.

"Very slightly Charles, yes, but that's what I would expect."

"You would?"

Well it was a good guess anyway. Obviously I was right, as he was nodding and smiling. I handed his glasses back to him carefully, really unsure if he could see me giving them to him, but he was ready to explain that too.

"I can only see things a few inches from my face. Everything else is a blur of colour. But I see close up very well. When I'm working I see detail better just my removing my glasses, then many of my colleagues do using magnifying glasses. So, in a way, in my chosen field, there is an advantage to my eyesight. In other ways, it's a bit of a handicap, but I'm used to it. I got my first glasses when I was 5. I didn't even mind then, I adopted the brainy owl image quite happily. But I must confess, there have been times that I thought my glasses might put off a woman, or a woman worth having anyway..........but you.........they don't seem to bother you at all. Why is that?"

"Well.....for one thing, I'm not shallow, I hope..."

He nodded, and smiled.

"For another, well, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You are beautiful to me Charles, glasses and all. You have a handsome face, and lovely eyes and they don't succeed in detracting from that. In fact they make you stand out, and I like that. I'm so tired of the dreary sameness, I think, of the men my family think make good suitors for me. What appeals to me is a man who thinks, and you do. I like your whole look, your image. It shouts "thinker"! I know it's a tired old stereotype, but there it is."

It was books and the love of learning that brought us together. It was perfectly appropriate that he should look like that, of course. But more, I really did like the way he looked, with no provisos. I still do, 30 years later, after 3 children and many homes in many places. I messed up my family bloodlines with myopic, bookish children but I never broke Charles' heart.