A Hint of Starlight

by Connolly, Lynne

  “We’re going to London.”

  “Very good. Do not pack much, we’ll be traveling light.” He strode away to give the necessary orders. His yacht was faster than anything he could muster, which meant he might miss the meeting, but he would not leave town without a long discussion with his wife.

  He was terrified that he would lose her. God knew he did not deserve to keep her, but if she rejected him, he could very well go completely mad.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Logan entered the London house belonging to the Glenbreck family with a sense of trepidation. Would he find her here? His mother must still be in residence because the knocker was on the door and there were no covers on the furniture.

  He had no sooner entered the marble-flagged hallway when a housemaid ran up to curtsey to him. “Your grace, we were not expecting you. I will have your room prepared immediately.”

  He tossed his gloves at the nearest footman, ignoring the man’s goggle-eyed inspection. He was fully aware that he was disheveled, dressed in what his friend, Adam, would term coarse clothing, and stinking of fish. He’d caught a fishing vessel as far as Newcastle, then a coal trawler to Gorleston, and another fishing boat as far as London. His valet was barely talking to him. “Order a bath for me. Has her grace arrived yet?”

  “No, your grace. We were not aware she was expected.”

  “We were called back to London, and I sent my wife ahead.” He had considered giving no reason, but if he did not, the servants would make up their own. The minute he’d set foot on dry land, he’d sent a footman to his brother-in-law’s house, to inquire if she was there. He had no time to waste, since the meeting was to take place that day. “She has probably gone to her brother’s house.”

  He glanced at the portrait of his father which was the first thing any visitor saw as they walked into the house. That put him in mind of the resolution he had made when he had been helping the fishermen stack the barrels of fish they were selling in the London markets. He gave a few sharp orders. “Take that away.”

  A footman, entering the hall still buttoning his waistcoat, skidded to a halt. “Your grace?”

  “You heard me. I want that portrait gone. I want it done today, before I bring my wife home.” If he brought her home. He could not afford to assume anything.

  He’d barely arrived here in time. Would she already be preparing her speech? Surely she knew that nobody on the committee would allow her to speak? They had made their position clear about women in their meetings. Although he disagreed with their stance, he could do nothing to change it. But he would do everything to prevent his wife receiving a public and humiliating set-down.

  A public meeting, God help them.

  “Logan?” A sharp call came from above. His mother lay in wait. Logan sighed, but went upstairs to face her.

  “Mama.” He bowed, and let her lead the way into the drawing room.

  The portrait of his father dominated the room. Hung over the fireplace, it was the first thing the observer saw. Then came the small shrine-like arrangement to one side, with smaller miniatures, and a few of his possessions. All that would change.

  “Lord, Glenbreck, you stink!”

  “Fish, I know. I was about to go to my room to bathe and change. The boat that brought me here was delivering it.”

  “Ah.” Despite the smell, she was smiling. “Have you tired of your wife already?” She turned, heading for the chair where her embroidery lay. A tea tray stood on the table by her side. “Why did you not use your yacht? Would you like some tea?”

  He waved his refusal of the tea, though he would have welcomed brandy. “Damaris used the yacht. Squire McKaley died, and I stayed for the funeral. She came on ahead, and decided to go to her brother’s house.”

  She frowned, then nodded. “Ah, yes, I remember the man. Very proper of you.”

  “Especially considering Callum McKaley was one of my dearest friends growing up.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “He was not the right kind of companion for you. I was not sorry when we moved to Edinburgh. However, he is your tenant.”

  “Only part of his land is rented from me, Mama. The rest is his own.”

  Not that the dowager duchess cared. She had never taken much interest in estate matters, only done her duty as she saw it, by being the gracious lady of the manor.

  Logan had sponsored Callum, but his friend did not need his help any longer. A few patents and a burgeoning engineering business had seen to that.

  “So your wife is back with her family?” his mother continued. “Does she mean to stay there? I cannot say I held up many expectations for your union. She might be the sister of an earl, but she is not good enough for you. I trust you got her with child, since that was the point of your marriage.”

  Logan let his anger simmer. “You will oblige me, Mama, by never speaking of my wife in those terms again. She is more than good enough for me, she deserves better than I can give her.” He let his stony aristocratic disdain fall on her, a tactic he had never used with her before.

  His mother turned to him, white-faced, the skirts of her gray gown whipping around her. “You have never spoken to me so before.”

  “I should have.” He really should.

  She found a handkerchief and dabbed a corner of the lacy confection to her eye. “That woman has turned you against me. I am the duchess, and I will remain so.”

  “That, Mama, is your choice to believe. But my wife is now the Duchess of Glenbreck and she will be first in my considerations from now on. I did not marry her for an heir. Any well-born woman would have done for that. I married her because I wanted a companion, a friend, a partner. Somebody to love.”

  “I lo—”

  He would not allow her to label her distorted feelings for his father as love. “You did not. You were at odds when you were married. You were never so in love with him as you were on the day he died.”

  He should have spoken to her years ago, but he was content to leave her to her extravagant grief.

  The tears flowed faster. “Your poor, dear papa—”

  No more. He would not put up with this nonsense a moment longer. “My poor, dear papa tupped anything in a skirt. The maids, your friends, his friends’ wives—telling people he was a saint does not eradicate their memories of him. You know what he was. A powerful, selfish man who took life like a race.”

  “Oh!” She buried her nose in her handkerchief.

  Relentlessly, he went on. “To that end, I will be making some changes in my houses. I am giving orders for all this to be removed.” He swept up his hand, indicating the relics his mother had placed here. “You may keep them if you wish, but I refuse to live in a shrine any longer. You have had your time; far more than that. If you wish, you may remove to the houses you were given in the settlement. You may turn them into temples to my father if you wish. But not here. Not in any house I live in.”

  “It’s your wife. She drove you to this. I should have known…”

  “Not another word!” How dare she accuse Damaris of such behavior? “She has never spoken a word against you. Damaris is my wife, and the love of my life. If she dies before I do, God forbid, I will not disparage her memory by making her a saint. I will remember her as she is—lovely, intelligent and lively. But not saintly. She is my wife and I will not hear her disparaged. Ever.”

  “Lady Elizabeth should have been your duchess,” his mother said. “I would have welcomed her.”

  “Is it any wonder Damaris chose to stay at her brother’s house? Her welcome here would be grudging. I will not have it, do you hear me, madam? Elizabeth would have been a duchess, not a wife. How dared you send that letter, indicating that I was about to propose to her? You had no right, and you could have caused all of us the greatest embarrassment. Damaris is the wife I should have. This is her home now, and I won’t have the women in my family at odds. If you cannot truly make Damaris welcome, then leave. You have property you may use. Use it.”

  Before his white-f
aced mother could speak, another voice came from the door. His sister. “He’s right, Mama. It’s time to move on. Damaris will be a wonderful duchess, but she needs our support.” She bestowed a bright smile on her brother. “You go. I’ll take care of her.” She wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”

  “I know. I’m taking a bath and then I’m going out.”

  “It’ll take more than a bath to scrub that smell away.”

  He went to take his sister’s hand, but she tucked both behind her back. “Don’t touch me until you’re clean.”

  “Madam, I’m your servant.” Out of sight of their mother, he flashed a smile at her. He would not allow Georgie to martyr herself for their mother. She must come and stay with them in town.

  His mother’s sobs turned much louder as Logan left the room. He should have done that years ago. The truth was, he had not cared enough to break the spell until now.

  Damaris arrived at the hall where the meeting was to take place to find people standing in line. “They must be short of entertainment,” Annie muttered to Gerald as they joined the queue.

  “Either that, or they’ve heard something about the speeches. The transit of Venus is getting more attention. There will be a great deal of money involved in the discovery,” Annie observed. “I’ve been reading about it.”

  Damaris rolled her eyes. “At last. I’ve been telling Gerald and my sisters for years.” She tucked the precious folder containing her latest research more securely under her arm. It was true that the research was attracting increasing attention from the public at large. Enthralled by the romance of the unknown, using the trajectories of the planets to predict navigational paths, at last the study was receiving the attention it deserved.

  “Come with me.” Gerald broke away from the crowd and headed for the entrance. “Sometimes I forget who I am.”

  They had tickets, but if he had not behaved with utter arrogance, they would have found themselves at the back of the hall. Gerald strode to the front, every inch an earl, and thrust their tickets under the man’s nose. “We are expected,” he said.

  Somewhat to Damaris’ shock, they were admitted immediately. “Who would have thought a name would make such a difference?”

  Annie sent her a look of pity. “It’s not merely a name, and you know it. Besides, you’re a duchess and we all have to bow and scrape to you.”

  That made Damaris laugh. She had no intention of making people bow and scrape. She could not imagine anything more embarrassing. She caught herself up on the thought. Of course she could. What she planned to do would be deeply embarrassing, if they refused to listen to her. But she could not respect herself if she did not try.

  They found seats near the front. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Gerald demanded them. Nobody sitting on the platform could miss seeing them.

  “I’d wager my next shipment of silver that Sir Peter paid for all this,” Annie observed. “He’s pushing for an earldom.”

  “At least,” Gerald remarked dryly. “He can have mine.”

  “Not while I’m bearing your heir he can’t.” Annie grazed a hand over her stomach, where her baby resided. She was hardly showing yet, and the wide fashionable skirts helped to conceal her condition, but she had not tried to conceal it. She and Gerald were a perfect example of a loving couple to Damaris. They had defied society, his and hers, and they were winning. Together, they could conquer the world, Annie had said at breakfast one morning, and Damaris believed it.

  When she’d arrived in London, two days before, they had welcomed her with open arms. She supposed she should have gone to the Glenbreck house, but once she’d walked into the familiar surroundings, she did not have the heart to go. The dowager duchess was in residence still, with her daughter, and Damaris was not yet ready to face her. One battle at a time.

  Damaris placed the folder on her lap and folded her hands neatly over it, preparing to listen.

  The platform held a few instruments, a brass telescope and a stand, holding a sky map, as well as a small table and two comfortable chairs. The gossip and murmurs died down when two gentlemen walked onto the stage. Lord Macclesfield, at his sartorial best, in a gray-powdered, full-bottomed wig and crimson suit laced with gold, strode confidently to the chair on the left, directly in front of Damaris and her family. He glanced at the crowd, his gaze snagging on Damaris before it moved on.

  Sir Peter Brady followed him. He took the seat on the other side and put a copious sheaf of notes on the table.

  Lord Macclesfield got to his feet. When the noise had died down, he began his speech.

  “Your graces, my lords, my ladies, and gentlemen. We are delighted to welcome you to what we expect to mark an auspicious occasion. As you no doubt know, our explorations of new lands and new people have led us to seek out new and better methods of navigation. If we can improve the accuracy of our maps and methods, we can steal a march on our rivals. You are no doubt aware we are searching for the secrets of longitude. Sir Peter Brady has recently made some significant discoveries in that direction. Before long, the nation may have reason to be proud of him. We are delighted to show you his discoveries today. You will mark this date as the first time you saw the illustrious gentleman present the result of years of theory to you. I am certain he will not be the last. Without further ado, I would like to attend this meeting over to Sir Peter Brady.”

  A smattering of applause greeted Sir Peter as he got to his feet.

  But who would believe that she did all the work? Damaris reflected bitterly.

  Sir Peter presented the facts as though they were his own. He bestrode the platform, engaging the audience in his recital of dry facts, expounding his theory with the help of charts and drawings. Her charts and drawings.

  Half an hour later, Damaris had all the information she needed. Sir Peter had, indeed, stolen her figures. And the only proof she had rested in her lap. She doubted anyone would take her word over his. Just as at the meeting when she’d applied for membership, they would condemn her unheard. Despite that, she would have her say. This would likely be the only time she could say it.

  Sir Peter received a very warm round of applause at the end of his lecture. Damaris gritted her teeth. Her figures, her calculations. Had he courted her just for the chance of stealing the figures?

  No, she did not think so. He would have married her and used her. Perhaps told her that he would present the discoveries for both of them, that although his name was there, he would dedicate them to her. Were it not for Logan, she might have believed him. Sir Peter was charming and eligible. He must have seen her as an easy conquest. She would have been, had she not come to her senses.

  At least she could thank Logan for sparing her that.

  Hands went up, and Lord Macclesfield chose a few to ask questions. Of course, Damaris raised her hand, but after the first half-dozen people were chosen, Damaris had to face the bitter fact that he did not intend to choose her. Did he know she was the originator of the calculations?

  She was in despair. If she did not challenge him now, nobody would believe her.

  Soft footsteps sounded up the aisle of the hall. The hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle. By the time he halted, she did not need to turn around to know who it was. Had he arrived to bear her off in ignominy? To claim his recalcitrant wife and apologize for her forward behavior?

  He touched the back of her neck. Damaris repressed a shiver. Although he spoke quietly, the sound of his voice reverberated around the hall. “I believe my wife has a question for Sir Peter.”

  Lord Macclesfield’s attention snapped to Logan. “Naturally, your grace. I apologize for keeping you waiting. Please ask your question.” He smiled indulgently at Damaris. Perhaps he had not seen her after all.

  “It is about the fourth figure on the chart. That is the point at which you deviate from the accepted norm. Could you tell me how you came across this figure since it is so important to your theory?”

  Stonily, Sir Peter met the challenge
in her direct gaze. “From direct observation, which I, of course, repeated to ensure its veracity.”

  She forced herself to concentrate, but with her husband fulminating behind her, the task was ten times more difficult. “Of course. I once made a similar observation, but I discovered it was a mistake caused by a fault in the lens of my old telescope. I repeated the observations with a new instrument and discovered my error.”

  “Since we do not have the same telescope,” Sir Peter said coldly, “I doubt we made the same mistake.” His mouth thinned into a straight line.

  The hall had fallen deathly silent. If Damaris could not prove her integrity now, she would be a laughingstock for all time. But surely that was better than sending the scientific establishment on a wild goose chase that would allow their rivals to overtake them. She had to do this. If she never touched a telescope again, she had to do it.

  “I would appreciate a clarification of the figures,” said Logan coolly. “I have considerable investments in shipping and trade and any errors in calculation could cost me a great deal of money.”

  Murmurs whispered through the hall. No doubt other investors were present.

  Taking a deep breath, Damaris opened her file. “If you will allow me?”

  Lord Macclesfield pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Why not?”

  Her husband kept his hand under her elbow to help her up to three steps that led to the stage. Damaris faced the sea of faces. She had never spoken to so many people at once in her life. She froze and glanced up into Logan’s face.

  He spoke quietly so that only she could hear him. “I have every faith in you. This is your time, Damaris.”

  She needed that. Glancing at her first line of figures, she began her calculations. People would label her a bluestocking after this. That was a far more preferable fate than the one she was facing ten minutes ago; to watch her calculations claimed by somebody else, and used to take the world in the wrong direction.

  In a complete reversal of her collapse before the committee, she outlined her new theory clearly and carefully. Then she invited anyone who cared to check her calculations. “I have checked the new numbers on my own new telescope and my husband’s.”