by Erica Ridley
“There’s Cassiopeia,” he pointed out. “Her stars are easy to remember. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon.”
She felt herself relax. “I believe you mean Agnes, Beatrice, Georgiana, Dorothea, and Edith.”
Gloria could practically feel him roll his eyes. She couldn’t keep the grin from her lips.
He gestured with the tip of his boot. “That one is Orion. I suppose you think the stars of his belt are named Tom, Dick, and Harry?”
“That’s not a belt,” she said. “Those are the buttons of his fall. They’re uneven because he ate so much Christmas pudding, his gut is bursting.”
Eyes crinkling, he propped himself up on one elbow to face her. “Why are you like this?”
“Blame my father,” she said with an unrepentant grin. “He taught me to let my imagination run wild.”
“Did he run out of time to teach you anything else?” he inquired politely.
She swatted at his arm. “Father was who taught me not to wish upon a star, but a constellation.” She pointed at the sky. “I named that one Duke and have been wishing on him ever since.”
He shook his head. “You don’t get to just name things.”
“Somebody gets to,” she said. “Why not me?”
His gaze stayed focused on her. “What is it you wish for?”
She kept her eyes facing the heavens.
“For most of my childhood,” she said at last, “I wished for Father to come home safely. It worked every time. Until it didn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That must have been hard.”
She gave a bitter smile. “He was a navigator, and then a Navy Captain. He told me the stars were for finding one’s way home. When he didn’t make it back, I feared it was because he was seeing the wrong things. That the names and stories he’d been taught were wrong. When it mattered most, none of them helped him home.”
To her relief, he did not try to give her platitudes about these things happen and it must’ve been his time to go. According to the society pages, he had lost his own father a few years back. He knew what it was like.
Instead of words, he slid his hand across the tablecloth and linked his pinky finger with hers.
Her heart clenched. It was the most perfect thing he could have said.
They lay there gazing upwards in silence until a streak of white slashed across the sky.
They both sat up at once.
“Did you see that?” she gasped. “It looked like a comet. Do you know its name?”
A laugh startled from his throat. “I have no idea.”
She clasped her hands together in excitement. “Then I get to name it because I saw it first.” She cupped her hands about her mouth and tilted her chin toward the sky. “I dub thee… ‘Duke.’”
His mouth fell open. “You cannot give two astral bodies the same name.”
She pointed at Draco in triumph. “So, you agree that one is already named Duke?”
“Aargh.” He buried his face in his hands.
“In that case it’s still my comet, and I name her… Vixen.”
He jerked his head up. “You can’t name a comet ‘Vixen!’”
“Where are you getting your rules?” she asked innocently.
“Science?” he countered.
She waved a hand. “Bah. When has science helped anyone?”
“You are completely barmy,” he said. “Has anyone ever mentioned that you are stark, raving mad?”
“Besides you?” she asked. “Only everyone who’s ever come on the sky-walk.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Your complete lack of celestial knowledge would fit right in over in London. Did you have a Season?”
“One,” she said softly.
He frowned. “I cannot imagine you unsuccessful at attracting a suitor. Any man who took the time to get to know you—”
“I did have a suitor. But after he sailed off to make his fortune, neither the contract nor my charms were enough to bring him back.”
His lip curled in contempt. “What could possibly be more important than you?”
The unintentional sweetness of the question squeezed her chest with surprising power.
Pride did not allow her to list the innumerable attractions her suitor had found more attractive: India, adventure, money. Anything but a marriage to her.
“Perhaps he still plans to return someday,” she attempted to jest.
His dark gaze was hot on hers. “He doesn’t deserve the chance. Please tell me you are not waiting around for that imbecile to saunter back into your life.”
She shook her head. “Not for a long time.”
“Good,” he said fiercely, and slanted his mouth over hers.
She melted into him. He was incensed on her behalf, every muscle tensed as though preparing to leap up to protect her from harm right here and now. But his kiss told another story. His mouth hadn’t come to hers in anger, but desire. As though the electricity building between them had struck to galvanize them together.
He cradled her face in his hands. His kiss was not tentative or polite but raw. A blatant claiming. Not a bright spot in the night, but a sky full of shooting stars. Instead of promises, each kiss demanded complete possession. She was happy to oblige.
She parted her lips and offered him more. He wasted no time in tasting her. In proving once and for all how right the wrong man could feel. His kisses were potent. Drugging. She gripped him for strength—and because she didn’t want the kisses to stop. He tasted like danger and romance and possibility. As though the stars had come out just for them.
At last, he lifted his lips from hers. “Miss Godwin…”
“Gloria,” she corrected. Or meant to. It came out as a peep.
He smiled and touched his forehead to hers. “I’m Christopher, and I would very much like to keep kissing you.”
She reached for him. “Please do.”
The new kiss was different than the last. Gentler. Sweeter. Capable of stealing both her breath and her heart.
Yet she dare not take such a risk. No matter how enthusiastic her kisses, it would not be enough to keep him. A stolen moment was all this could be. He was a man that could not be moored.
When the tide drew away, he would go with it.
Chapter 9
Gloria was cleaning the gears of the parlor clock when the knock came on her front door. There was only one person it could be.
Christopher.
Here to talk about last night’s kiss.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
“How’s the pudding?” he asked as he edged around her to head toward the kitchen.
Very well. She inclined her head. No talk. Just pudding.
He reappeared, apparently having reassured himself of the pudding’s continued well-being. “Grab your bonnet.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He lifted her pelisse from the rack and held it out. “Come and take a ride with me.”
“A ride where?” she asked suspiciously.
“Bonnet,” he prompted.
She slipped into her pelisse and snatched her bonnet from its chair. “Madge!”
He shook his head. “No room. I’ve rented a phaeton.”
She stared at him in horror. “One of the le Duc’s high-perch racing phaetons?”
He tightened the ribbon of her bonnet beneath her chin. “Ready for adventure?”
“You expect me to voluntarily climb into one of the le Duc’s racing phaetons?” she repeated in disbelief. “They are considered some of the most skillful drivers around and I’ve lost track of how many times they’ve crashed during races.”
“We won’t race,” Christopher promised. “We’ll just drive.”
Madge poked her head around the corner. “Wouldn’t do her any harm to have an adventure outside one of her books.”
“Go away.” Gloria shooed her out of the parlor. “You’re not helping.”
Christopher lifted her chin. �
�You said you won’t leave Christmas because you don’t like risk.”
“France is a war zone,” she pointed out. “Reasonable people don’t go on holiday in war zones.”
He grinned. “I’m not planning to drive you to Paris. I’m not certain my horses can swim that far.”
“Under no circumstances will I go anywhere near a body of water,” she said firmly.
“Noted.” He gave a sharp nod. “I’d also like to point out that a phaeton is not a seafaring vessel. It is meant for short jaunts about town on nice days. This is a nice day and a nice town.” He held out his elbow. “Come jaunt with me.”
“Take a small risk,” Madge hissed from the corridor. “The le Duc lads rarely break any bones.”
Gloria took a shaky breath and considered her options. If she said yes, what was the worst that could happen?
Broken bones, as Madge had so helpfully pointed out. Mangled limbs. Death.
What did she risk by not going?
Adventure, as Madge had also pointed out. A beautiful afternoon with the very gentleman she’d spent all month dreaming about. Life itself passing her by.
“Everything carries risk,” Christopher said gently. “Nothing always works out. Life is about doing it anyway.”
“Not your most confidence-inspiring speech.” She elbowed past him onto her front step.
There was the phaeton. The whip-fast death machine.
A tiny, open-air passenger basket fully exposed to the elements teetered high atop two rickety springs barely wide enough to connect their reckless driver to four uneven wheels—two smaller ones up front near the horses, and two enormous ones at the rear.
Only a madwoman would climb inside.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” he said with a self-satisfied smile. “May I help you up?”
Gloria glared up at the phaeton. Without help, it would be impossible to get in. They should take that as a sign to stay home instead.
She gave a tight nod.
He grinned and managed to sneak a peck to her cheek as he swung her up and into the phaeton.
Her face heated. She had not been prepared for that risk.
He leapt up beside her and expertly led his horses down the snow-dusted road at an impressively sedate pace.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I didn’t know phaetons could go this slow,” she answered with a tentative smile.
He lifted the reins. “Shall I spur the grays faster?”
“No!” She grabbed his arm to stop him before she realized he was teasing.
“Look around,” he said. “Five minutes and perhaps six feet later, and we’re still alive. The phaeton is still standing. All our bones are intact.”
“For now,” she muttered.
“See?” he said. “New things aren’t inherently bad. This is how I feel when I travel. The unknown can be exhilarating.”
“I agreed we were still alive,” she reminded him. “I never said I found this contraption exhilarating.”
“Let me see if I can change that,” he said and tossed her the reins.
“Eek!” she squeaked, throwing her hands into the air as if the reins would burn like acid. “I said I’ve never driven before!”
He gave her a placid smile.
The horses plodded forward.
She scooped the reins from her lap and tossed them into his.
He crossed his arms, tilted his gaze to the sky, and began to whistle as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
The horses kept clomping.
She snatched the reins from his lap with shaking hands. “As soon as we stop, I’ll kill you.”
“Then you would be more dangerous than the phaeton,” he pointed out. “Don’t be hypocritical.”
“The phaeton is my spirit animal,” she said. “And my least favorite constellation. Now tell me how to drive it.”
He grinned. “First, relax. Horses can sense the driver’s state.”
“Then we’re dead,” she moaned. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to hand the reins to someone who can’t drive?”
“Many people,” he said with a straight face. “This is my first time bending a rule. It’s a risk for both of us. Please don’t crash or I’ll never do it again.”
“Beast.” She lifted her chin.
He curved his hands over hers and adjusted her grip. “Hold the reins this way. If you want the horses to turn left, move like this…”
The slow-moving horses listed in an easterly direction.
“And if you want them to turn right, move the reins like this…”
The horses began to plod and in a westerly direction.
“And if you want them to race hell-for-leather—”
“No!” she squeaked.
“Good.” He sat back. “These aren’t racing horses. They would do their best and then sputter out in a trice.”
He taught her how to pull the reins to practice stopping and starting, then helped her guide the horses half a mile down the road before turning around by the evergreens.
He paused the horses, then rubbed his thumb against her cheek.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly. “Was it too much? I wanted to give you a small adventure, but I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She stared back at him wordlessly.
Every nightfall, she tilted her face to the sky and wished upon her Duke. Gloria was done waiting for the stars. Life was too short. Last time, Christopher had kissed her. This time, she was going to kiss him.
She placed her hands on either side of his face and pressed her lips to his. This was dangerous. This was reckless. She was perched high in a phaeton, her mouth locked on a gentleman who would be gone within a week. Her hands trembled. She held on tighter.
His mouth was firm and familiar, his kisses hot and deep. As though he, too, had dreamed of nothing but tasting her once again. Of their bodies cleaving so tightly together that nothing could tear them apart.
This was not playing it safe. This was teetering at high speed. Leaping head-first into deep water. Perhaps the only thing that waited on the other side was more heartbreak.
She wasn’t certain she was brave enough to find out.
Chapter 10
Madge opened the front door for Christopher as he was still striding up the walk.
He grinned at her, then turned to hang his hat upon its usual spot on the rack.
“I presume you’ve come to check on the pudding,” Madge said as she closed the door behind him. “You know where to find the kitchen.”
Christopher was halfway there before he realized the maid was right. Checking on the pudding’s progress had become a daily ritual. As though this cottage was starting to feel like home.
Frowning, he dipped his nose to the fragrant cloth and went in search of Gloria.
She had not been in the kitchen or the front parlor. Nor was she in the observatory. He hesitated before tapping on any strange doors. He didn’t wish to burst in on her in her unmentionables.
To be sure, he might wish to spend some quality time in her bedchamber, but he would never presume to—
She popped her head out of a new doorway. “There you are! Come on in.”
He perked up. Perhaps wishes could be granted after all.
When he stepped into the room, however, he was greeted not by a boudoir but something even better.
“You have an orrery?”
Awestruck, he rushed forward and ran his hands across the excellent craftsmanship of its waist-high mahogany housing with engraved-brass detailing.
The orrery’s ornate, glass-topped lid rested on a side table. The open surface exposed a perfect model of all eight planets in the solar system, from Mercury to Ceres.
“Does it work?” he asked in wonder.
She gave him an arch look and engaged the switch.
Before his eyes, the planets began rotating in perfect trajectories, the ring of each orbit ever wider than the last. At the sight, his body flooded with ch
ildlike joy.
He turned to her in awe. “Where did you get this?”
“It belonged to my father.” Gloria disabled the switch and pulled a handful of tools from her apron pocket. “Stay there. Watch what else it can do.”
He watched in horror as she immediately dismantled the exquisite machine. Gooseflesh rippled down his spine.
He reached out to stop her. “What the devil are you doing?”
“Taking it apart,” she said, as if that was something sane people did. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”
“It already worked,” he protested, his voice faint.
“Bah,” she said. “That’s just one way to orbit.”
Despite the still-stinging trauma of witnessing the complete demolition of the most exquisite machine he’d seen in his life, Christopher could not help but admire his fetching agent of destruction.
Black tendrils bounced about Gloria’s face as she leaned into the orrery’s innards. She nibbled her plump lower lip in concentration as she rearranged bearings and replaced gears. Her round backside tilted tantalizingly in his direction.
He had never seen anything so erotic. He shoved his hands behind his back to keep from reaching toward her.
“How did you become so clever with devices?” he managed, his voice hoarse.
“Practice,” she answered. Her derrière gave a pert little wiggle. “When the stars aren’t out, a lady must come up with something to do.”
He cocked his head. “I assumed you spent your days matchmaking.”
She shook a finger above her head. “You’re my first.”
“I’m your what?” he choked out in surprise. “You’re not actually a matchmaker?”
She slammed a stubborn piece in place with enough force to rattle teeth. “I told you. I agreed to do this as a favor for Penelope.”
“I know, but…” He stared at the back of her head. “I thought…”
With a final torque of some recalcitrant piece, she replaced the protective panel and swung upright.
“First client,” she said as she wiped a speck of dust from her nose and smiled. “How am I doing?”
He lost the battle and kissed her.