A Hint of Starlight

Home > Other > A Hint of Starlight > Page 28
A Hint of Starlight Page 28

by Connolly, Lynne


  She swallowed. “I read the notice of the meeting in the journal. My life was falling around my ears, and I thought I had lost you. So I set out to save a part of it.”

  “Oh, my love!” Leaning up, he claimed a kiss. Their lips separated, but not far, and not, she guessed, for long. “You can never lose me. I swear it.” He said it as if making another vow. Perhaps he was.

  A thump in the corridor outside made her laugh and a wry smile curved his lips. “I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother takes half the house with her.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Because she likes to be surrounded by her belongings. But if they go to a country house for a summer party, and I suspect she will choose Chatsworth, she will only take what she needs. I’ve saved my sister from being immured in Inverness for the rest of the summer.”

  “I liked the castle.”

  “That’s because of the observatory.” He stroked her cheek with the back of one finger.

  “It’s because you were there.” She couldn’t hide from the truth. “And the observatory.”

  They laughed together, happy as only lovers could be.

  Epilogue

  MacIver Castle echoed with laughter these days, especially after the Duke of Glenbreck and his lovely bride had spent an all-night vigil in the observatory they shared. They had never moved to the ducal apartments, because they were too far away from the spiral staircase that led to their version of paradise, but had converted his rooms to dual occupation. Since they needed but one bed, they turned the adjoining guest room into the duchess’ private sitting room.

  That was where they were sitting, heavy-eyed over a late breakfast, when McKinney brought the latest copy of the Royal Society Journal to them. Logan pushed it over to his wife. “It’s your turn to have it first. We should really order two copies.”

  She scoffed. “What a waste that would be. I’d rather spend the money on a new lens.”

  “I’m sure you would.”

  Her attention was caught by a name in the journal, one she had not noticed before. “They have published your paper!”

  Although she had given up trying to leave her mark on the world, she had not ceased working with her husband. The race to plot the transit of Venus was gaining traction, and had become quite the craze after her sensational appearance at the meeting last June. Together, they had worked to refine her figures, and add his own research to them, producing something far more engrossing. When he said he would present it to the Society, she urged him to send the paper in. “You have worked so hard for this.”

  “Keep reading.”

  She did. Usually, she suppressed her wistful thoughts of wanting fame for herself. What did it matter, after all? The work was just as fascinating as ever, but the line at the top made her gasp.

  “This paper, and all subsequent work is the joint effort of his grace the Duke of Glenbreck and D. Singer.” She read it aloud, to hear the sound. Then she read it again. The paper shook as she put it gently down on the table, careful to keep the precious journal away from the butter dish. “Perhaps we should buy two copies of this one.”

  The smile she could never resist curved his lips and warmed his eyes. “I prefer to tell the truth,” he said. “You are not an assistant, my love, you are my equal in every way. Your work surpasses mine when it comes to minutiae and swift calculations.”

  “No. You are as good.”

  “Perhaps we should work on a book together. You know that article reflects only the tip of our work.”

  Numbly, she reached out and touched the journal. Since McKinney took care to iron all the newsprint that came into the house, her finger did not come away black. “You did not tell me.”

  “You would have refused. Macclesfield accepts that you are too fine an astronomer to waste. He has agreed to accept you as an honorary member of the Society, although I fear full membership is still closed to you, and all other females.”

  “But we got him that far. You humble me.”

  He reached out, took her hand and tugged, forcing her to get out of her seat and go around to his side of the table. He dragged her down into his lap and kissed her soundly. “Nonsense. It’s only your right.” He drew her close again, but halted. “Hold still.”

  Somehow, she had snagged her necklace in the fine lace of her loose gown. From the look in his eyes, she was about to lose that gown soon. She couldn’t wait. She took the seed pearl string from him once he’d disentangled it. “My brother gave this to me when I turned sixteen. I’d like to give it to our baby at the christening, if it’s a girl.”

  He cinched her tightly, shock widening his eyes. “Christening? You mean…?”

  Delighted with his reaction to her news, she nodded. “I am sure. We can expect our firstborn in about seven months.” She frowned. “Perhaps sooner. My calculations aren’t precise since I cannot be sure when I conceived. We spend all our nights together.”

  He drew her down for another kiss, making it long and tender. “Don’t forget the days,” he murmured. “I think I need to make sure you never forget those.”

  “I won’t. Ever.”

  And she never did.

  About the Author

  I write stories, and I always have. And I love a happy ending, especially a well-deserved one.

  I’m an award-winning, best-selling author of historical romance. I fell in love with the eighteenth century when I was nine years old, and it’s my dream job to write about the people who lived and loved back then.

  I used to work in marketing, and I have more letters after my name than in it, but I don’t use them much anymore.

  I live in the UK with my family, including my muse, Frankie the Nonsense, a ragdoll with no decorum. I love traveling, and I get over to the States at least once a year.

  My website is at lynneconnolly.com. Twitter @lynneconnolly and my Facebook page is here: facebook.com/lynneconnollyuk. My blog is at lynneconnolly.blogspot.com.

  I also have a newsletter. If you’d like to join it, email me on [email protected] or fill in the form on my website.

 

 

 


‹ Prev