A Late Summer Night's Dream

By Eleanor Harkstead and Catherine Curzon

Among Oxford's dreaming spires, can a widowed professor and a wide-eyed scholar make their own dreams of love come true?

Simeon Shakespeare is living his academic dream. As an Oxford scholar, he spends his days in libraries and whiles away his nights at the theater. A mix-up over a seat number leads to a very awkward first act, but that's nothing compared to what happens when the lights go up.

Professor Anthony Meadows is finished with love. Shattered by the death of his husband, he divides his time between his book-lined study and Oxford's theaters. The last thing he needs is an annoying research student bickering with him over who should sit where.

When Anthony and Simeon discover they have more in common than a shared love of the Bard, it looks as though the stage is set for romance. Yet with the memory of Anthony's lost love keeping the professor from moving on, can Simeon's love mend his broken heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Feb 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781786517067

Eleanor Harkstead

Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. She can occasionally be found wandering old graveyards. Eleanor is very fond of chocolate, wine, tweed waistcoats and nice pens. Her large collection of vintage hats would rival Hedda Hopper's. Originally from the south-east of England, Eleanor now lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.

Book preview

Pride Publishing books by Catherine Curzon and Eleanor Harkstead

Single titles

An Actor’s Guide to Romance

Captivating Captains

The Captain and The Cavalry Trooper

The Captain and The Cricketer

The Captain’s Ghostly Gamble

The Captain’s Cornish Christmas

Pride Publishing books by Catherine Curzon

Anthology

I Need a Hero: The Angel on the Northern Line

A LATE SUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

CATHERINE CURZON & ELEANOR HARKSTEAD

A Late Summer Night’s Dream

ISBN # 978-1-78651-706-7

©Copyright Catherine Curzon and Eleanor Harkstead 2019

Cover Art by Cherith Vaughan ©Copyright February 2019

Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Pride Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2019 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

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Among Oxford’s dreaming spires, can a widowed professor and a wide-eyed scholar make their own dreams of love come true?

Simeon Shakespeare is living his academic dream. As an Oxford scholar, he spends his days in libraries and whiles away his nights at the theater. A mix-up over a seat number leads to a very awkward first act, but that’s nothing compared to what happens when the lights go up.

Professor Anthony Meadows is finished with love. Shattered by the death of his husband, he divides his time between his book-lined study and Oxford’s theaters. The last thing he needs is an annoying research student bickering with him over who should sit where.

When Anthony and Simeon discover they have more in common than a shared love of the Bard, it looks as though the stage is set for romance. Yet with the memory of Anthony’s lost love keeping the professor from moving on, can Simeon’s love mend his broken heart?

Dedication

CC - For Mr C, who knows a good pie when he sees one.

EH – For Dr T.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Chuck Taylor: Converse Inc

Lady Bracknell: Oscar Wilde

Odyssey: Homer

Northanger Abbey: Jane Austen

Triumph: Triumph Motor Company

Chapter One

Simeon pulled the ticket out of his pocket as he ran up the steps of the theater. Thanks to the bloody traffic in town, he was almost late for curtain up. He checked his seat number again and hurried through a door from the foyer into the busy auditorium. The house lights went down almost as soon as he found his row.

Excuse me…sorry. His seat would have to be right in the middle of the row, wouldn’t it? Best seat to have, but not if you turn up late.

With only the green glow of the emergency exit lights to guide him, Simeon found his way to the empty seat. He squinted at the ticket and—someone is in my seat!

A tall someone who Simeon could barely see in the dark.

Music began to fill the auditorium, an overture before the play began. Through the strings and brass, Simeon hissed, You’re in my seat!

Someone tutted, perhaps the lady who was craning to peer around Simeon at the stage. Why was she so keen anyway? The curtain was still down—she was hardly missing the action.

At Simeon’s words, the man who occupied his seat peered up at him through the gloom and asked in a cut-glass whisper, I’m sorry?

Simeon wafted his ticket at him—not that he’d be able to see it in the darkness. You’re in my seat. Something in the way the man had spoken made Simeon add, without a hint of sarcasm, …sir.

Sit down, the lady hissed, patting Simeon’s arm with her rolled program. The interloper in his seat reached out one hand and tapped his finger on the empty seat beside him. His seat, the seat he should be in, not Simeon’s central seat.

Sit down, the man echoed in that same plummy whisper, dismissive and disinterested. "I’m in my seat."

Simeon sighed in annoyance. "You’re not—you’re in mine! I chose it on purpose, and you’re sat in it!"

What number seat are you looking for? He asked it as though Simeon was the most unimportant creature in the universe, with the same throwaway condescension of his worst undergraduate professors. His hand remained on the empty seat and he said, This is seventeen.

"Yes—seventeen! That’s my seat. Look—look at my ticket, for heaven’s sake!" Simeon held it closer to the man’s face.

His nemesis tapped the empty seat again and he told Simeon, "This is seventeen, I’m in sixteen and—"

Fifteen, the woman snapped, patting him a little more forcefully with her program. Now sit down, you bloody hooligan!

Simeon popped forward the collar of his denim jacket, a move he had learned long ago from old films. Hooligan? I merely wish to sit—

Shit.

Simeon dropped down into the empty seat and looked at his ticket again. His was seventeen, and that was definitely the empty seat.

Sorry, he whispered. How embarrassing—but it’s so dark, I…

Yet his neighbor didn’t offer him so much as a glance, merely gesturing with one hand, a flick of the wrist that commanded silence. A faint glare of light reflected for a moment from the jeweled cufflink that peeped out from beneath the sleeve of the man’s jacket, then Simeon’s attention was caught by the curtain which, thank God, was finally beginning to rise.

This isn’t going to be an awkward three hours at all, is it?

Not at all.

Simeon was soon carried into the play. The scenery was