"I'm sorry we had to cut short our drive. The weather here can be quite unpredictable."
She frowned, looking up at the darkening sky. "Is it always so cloudy? I feel as though we've hardly had a clear day since we arrived."
"Oh no," he said cheerfully, rocking back on his heels as they lingered on the top step. "It's usually much worse. Coal smog and all. Summer in the city is a horror, but it's where everything interesting happens, so we tolerate it as best we are able."
"Ah. It's a shame. I miss the stars at night."
They both fell silent for a moment, and he took the time to study her as she squinted up at the clouds. She really was quite pretty, with rosy cheeks and shining brown hair.
"Well—" he began.
"Well—" she started.
They both smiled, hers a little less reluctant than the others she'd bestowed upon him up until that moment. Leo raised one eyebrow as he graciously waved her on.
"I must go dress, I suppose. We've the opera tonight, with your mother. It was so kind of her to invite us to join her in the family box." Contrary to her words, she looked less than enthused at the prospect.
"Then I'll let you get to it." Leo bowed over her hand, taking the moment to trace his thumb lightly across the back of her glove. He was rewarded with the faintest pinking of her cheeks as he moved down a step. "Out of curiosity, what will you wear to your first ton event? Because make no mistake, if you're sitting with my mother, all eyes will be on you and your lovely sisters."
"Oh Lord." Miriam rubbed her forehead with her thumb and forefinger, looking tired. "I suppose it would look odd if we brought Ester gagged, wouldn't it?"
Leo let loose a bark of laughter, a grin splitting his face. So she did have a sense of humor when she forgot to put on her giggling debutant act. It was good she was such a terrible actress. It would be a dull few months if he couldn't laugh once and while.
"It might take the pressure off choosing an unforgettable gown."
"Believe me, being unforgettable is not something my family has ever struggled with," she replied wryly.
"No," he said, cocking his head and letting his eyes drift over her. "I don't suppose it is."
Miriam tugged on her bonnet ribbons, looking flustered. She hurried to the door, nodding distractedly at the footman as he opened it. Pausing, she glanced back at Leo.
"Will I see you there?"
He bowed again, this time a sweeping, overly dramatic affect. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
She sent him a slight smile, then slipped into the house.
Harrington stepped in the doorway, looking down his nose at Leo.
"Will you be coming in, sir?"
"No, not—"
The heavy door banged shut before he could get out the rest of his sentence. One of these days, he and his mother's butler were going to have it out. Oh, yes. Not today, but someday.
With a snort, Leo turned away from the house and called to the footman for his horse, ignoring the first few fat drops of cold rain as they fell.
The afternoon hadn't been the smooth start to his pretend courtship that he'd hoped for, but it hadn't been a complete disaster. He'd learned something about the interesting eldest Rosenbaum daughter.
She liked him.
Leo began to whistle, his cheery mood impervious to the drizzle from overhead. Everything would be easier from here on out, now that he had his foothold. He was quite looking forward to it, in fact.
Chapter 5
Thunder boomed outside, shaking the panes of the sitting room windows. Miriam grit her teeth and shoved a needle through the cross-stitch she was attempting. The pattern was of a pastoral scene, complete with fluffy white sheep, that looked more like puffs of cotton on stick legs. It was certainly not her finest work.
"We are all going to drown if this keeps up much longer," she grumbled, dropping the cross-stitch with a hiss as she poked her finger instead of the material.
Mr. Blakeley glanced up from where he was playing chess with Fannie, and grinned. "Welcome to London in the spring."
"I don't understand why anyone would want to throw a ball, or garden party, or lawn picnic under the near constant threat of rain." Fannie studied the board in front of her, then moved her pawn decisively. "It seems to me that the Season should be held in a drier part of the year."
"Spring may be wet," said Mama from her spot next to Miriam, eyeing the rain streaking the windows. "But at least the weather is warm. None of us will melt if we get a bit damp."
Ester chose that moment to burst into the drawing room, soaked to the bone, a huge grin on her face. She flung droplets of water about as she waved her arms in animation.
"Empirical evidence Rosenbaum ladies do not melt from rain," Miriam said wryly, pausing in her work.
"What a glorious afternoon! I ran all the way home from the book shop, so the books you sent me for, Fan, are only the smallest bit damp. Lydia and myself, not as much." Ester touched the dripping ends of her sodden hair with a grin, referring to her maid, who must have been fuming to have been dragged out in the foul weather.
"Oh, for the love of... Ester Hannah Rosenbaum, what is the matter with you?" Mama rose from her seat in agitation, making shooing motions with her hands as she herded Ester from the room. "Mr. Blakeley, do excuse us. You're dripping all over the countess's lovely carpets..."
Her aggravated voice faded as she hustled her daughter up the stairs. Fannie giggled, then slipped from her seat. "I think I should go rescue my books before she ruins them completely. Thank you for the game, sir."
"Any time at all." He waved her on, then began to pack away the board. Fannie sent Miriam a mischevious smile once his head was bent to the task, and left the door half open on her way out.
Her sisters had hardly given her any peace since that day in the park, with their little winks and nudges and innocent comments within Mr. Blakeley's hearing about her numerous good qualities. Half of which were complete rubbish. It was mortifying. She couldn't fathom what had suddenly turned them into a peck of clucking hens, especially when they knew she had no time for men.
Mr. Blakeley seemed to take no notice of it, the only thing saving her pride.
Quiet settled over the drawing room again, the crackling fire and the patter of rain the only sounds. Miriam tried to focus on the needlework in front of her, but it was a losing battle. She'd never been much good at sewing or fancywork. What she was good at was scanning the heavens for new objects, but there was no hope of it with this terrible weather. For the time being, she would just have to accept that she was trapped indoors, and make the best of it.
With a deep, calming breath, Miriam bent over her task with renewed concentration.
She threw down the needlework in disgust the third time she managed to stab herself.
"Slow going?" Mr. Blakeley dropped down in a chair across from her. He stretched his legs out with a sigh, crossing them at the ankle, and lacing his fingers over his stomach.
"I'm reminded yet again as to why I loathe this sort of busywork," she said. There was only so much patience a body possessed, and all of hers had been used up twenty minutes ago. The rain made her restless. She looked over at her companion, who seemed perfectly content to sit still and watch the flames dancing. "Have you ever seen the stars at night through a telescope, Mr. Blakeley?"
"My father had one when I was young, but then my cousins and I knocked it over while playing a game on the terrace," he said.
"For shame!"
"We were awful little beasts, though I'll deny it if you tell my mother I admitted to it." They shared a smile. "Being an expensive instrument, he never did get around to replacing it, but he did take me to Sir William Herschel's Academy House once, when I was very small."
Now, this was interesting. She sat up straighter.
"You saw the largest telescope in the world? Was it as magnificent as in the pictures? I read it was over twelve meters long. Twelve meters! Imagine what Sir William could see with it. I h
ear he's discovered entire planets with it. Did you get to look through it?"
Mr. Blakeley's blue eyes twinkled at her excitement, the edges crinkling in a way that was quite pleasing. "Yes, I'm sure it was, and no. I was a small boy with grubby hands and an unfortunate tendency to knock things over and destroy them. I don't think Sir William was about to take any chances. I was sent off with his sister for biscuits in the kitchen while Father spoke with him about what he was studying."
She sat back, a bit deflated. "Oh... well. Still, you did see it in person. Which is more than I've ever done."
"Is it something you love, studying the stars? I hear there's quite a bit of mathematics involved, which is enough for me to have kept my distance." he asked.
Miriam was silent for a moment, trying to best explain the feeling that came over her when she looked through the glass and saw entire worlds beyond their own, swirling through the heavens.
"I confess, the mathematics are not my strong suit either. " She picked up a small decorative pillow and hugged it to her, running the fringe through her fingers. "I can muddle along well enough, but I would require a partner who was brilliant at it. Well enough is not good enough in the sciences. My place is at the telescope, as an observer. I have a keen eye and nearly perfect memory."
He studied her. "I would have thought you'd want a more active role, elbow deep in the middle of it all."
"It's more than just staring at stars. It is staring at stars, yes, and they are fascinating. But studying the celestial bodies through a telescope is still quite necessary. As well as building new and larger telescopes," she said. She wasn't going to mention that she built her own. Miriam was quite aware that once she started speaking on the parabolic Newtonian telescope versus the Herschelian design, everyone's eyes glazed over except hers. "I've tried to convince Father that it would be a sound investment in the future of the human race to build a large telescope on a piece of property adjacent to our Newport cottage. He said a better investment would be reroofing his factories, and I cannot argue with that, to be honest."
Leo's forehead wrinkled as he followed the meandering train of her thoughts, but all he said was, "It sounds like he takes his responsibilities seriously. Hard to be disappointed in that."
"Yes, it is." Miriam felt a pang of homesickness, thinking of Papa. The balls and opera would bore him to tears, but he would love London. She would have loved exploring it with him. Pushing the emotion that threatened to set up shop in her throat, she coughed behind one hand.
"More tea?"
"I feel as though I've drank a river's worth of tea in the last few days." Miriam rolled her eyes, the restless annoyance of being trapped indoors for so long settling upon her again. "I long for the weather to clear. The rain should wash away most of the smog, and perhaps I'll finally get a solid look at the night sky again. The discovery of something new every time I look through my lens... I cannot think of anything more satisfying."
"I imagine there might be one or two things that would surprise you," he murmured, a small smile playing about his lips as he tipped his head back to study at the ceiling with great interest.
Miriam fought the urge to ask him to clarify. Going by the smirk on his face, and her experience with having an older brother, it would be nothing fit for an unmarried woman's ears.
Her cheeks hot, she asked, "And do you have a calling, Mr. Blakeley? Something that gives you purpose and direction? Gives you joy?"
"Not unless you count collecting fine pairs of boots." His smile stiffened the slightest bit. Giving a careless shrug, he maintained his lazy slouch in the seat. "An earl has no purpose in life beyond handling his estates well enough that no one starves, and his heir even less of one. I had the very best tutors, and bumbled my way through my classes at university. I even managed to finish with decent marks. But I am no scholar, nor businessman, Miss Rosenbaum."
"It's a blessing I don't have to actually earn my own living. I'm quite useless," he added, stunning her with a sudden hint of acerbity that sharpened his smile into something less careless, less pleased with himself.
"Not at all. I'm sure..." Miriam bit her lip, at a loss.
What in the world did she say to that? She herself was guilty of comparing him in her mind to other gentlemen, ones who worked for a living. Having grown up with two men who would rather be prodded with hot pokers than sit idle, she didn't understand the attraction. Not even Fannie, who didn't have a calling like her sisters, lived a life only of galas and shopping.
"It's fine." He waved away her concern, smile cheerful again, stretching his legs toward the fire in an insouciant manner. "I'm rather enjoying talking about yours. When it stops raining and you set up your telescope, will you let me take a look? If I promise not to knock it over into the bushes? I find I'm quite interested in finding out what the stars look like up close."
Relieved at the change in subject, even if she was fully aware he was dodging the topic, Miriam laughed. "Not exactly close. Still millions of miles away, if Sir William's calculations are correct—"
"Excuse me, miss?" One of Lady Pennyworth's maids hovered in the doorway. "Your mother says it's time to dress for dinner."
"Ah. That is my cue." Mr. Blakeley stood, with a mournful glance outside, where the rain was still coming down in sheets. "If I don't wash away, I'll see you this evening at the... drat it all, what's the ball tonight?"
She rose. "Who can keep track?"
"Who indeed?" He grinned as they walked together to the door of the sitting room, collecting the hat he'd dropped on a side table on the way. "Might I suggest you wear a pair of mudding boots this evening with your ball gown and start a new fashion trend?"
"It would certainly set everyone talking," she said, amused at the thought, as they crossed the foyer. Harrington appeared, opening the door with an eagerness that had Mr. Blakeley looking at him askance. "Tempting as it is, knowing I will be dancing in wet slippers otherwise, I fear I shall have to refrain. Better not."
"Better not," he agreed, putting on his hat and peering out the door into the gloom. "That's the sort of thing a Madcap Rosenbaum would do, and you've turned over a new leaf."
She pressed her lips together to keep the laugh in. "Yes. Quite right."
"Too bad, really... Adieu, Miss Rosenbaum. Until tonight." With a touch to the brim of his hat, he disappeared into the gray rain.
Chapter 6
The first half of Lord and Lady Atherton's musicale had been a nightmare. A nightmare Leo couldn't awaken from. In what world this was considered suitable entertainment, he could not fathom.
One would never know it by the shining look of contentment on Lady Atherton's face, however.
"My lady. What a memorable performance you've gifted us all with." It was the most politic thing he could think of to say, bowing over her hand as guests milled about during intermission.
"Thank you, Mr. Blakeley, I'm so pleased at the turnout. Even better than last year!" She preened, waving her fan about as she spoke. He had to step back quickly to avoid having his eye poked out, and stumbled into an older gentleman.
"Begging your par—"
The man turned around, one bushy silver eyebrow raised in irritation, and the words lodged in Leo's throat.
"I should have guessed it would be you, Blakeley," said the Duke of Danby, his shrewd gaze running over Leo with the thoroughness of a breeder sizing up a horse for sale. "Still running about and knocking things over, are you?"
How did the duke always manage to make him feel as though he were still a dirty, little ten year old boy caught in some mischief?
Leo cleared his throat, resisting the urge to check the neatness of his cravat. "Good evening, your Grace. Are you enjoying your visit to Town?"
"Not particularly. This is a flighty crowd of numbwits." The duke cast a narrow eye about, sending lords and ladies scurrying out of his line of sight. "Lord Patterson just attempted to engage me on the topic of lace ruffle versus bare cuffs."
He snorted
in disbelief, thumping his cane on the marble floor with a bang that made Lady Atherton wince. "Do I look like I care about lace cuffs, Blakeley?"
"Perhaps he panicked," murmured Leo. The duke threw him a sharp glance, but Leo merely sent him a bland smile. The older man hrmphed, looking him over again, his expression shifting into a familiar, crafty expression that had always given Leo the shudders.
"Still unmarried, I see. Can't find a gel looking for a man who can give her babies with pretty blue eyes, eh?" Danby poked him, his thick eyebrows waggling in an unnerving way. Oh, for God's sake, it got worse every time Leo saw him. "Have you mentioned you're heir to an earldom? And your connection to the Danby name? Could only help."
"No," Leo said drily. He had known this was going to come up sooner or later. He hadn't had one conversation with the man since turning twenty-five that didn't involve the duke poking at him and asking when he was going to settle down. "I don't usually enact my impression of Debrett's Peerage until I've become well acquainted with a lady."
"Smart mouth like your father." The duke gave him an approving look. "Speaking of Pennyworth, is he here this evening? I haven't seen my nephew in a good long while."
"He won't be in Town until late May. As much as it frustrates him to miss a session of the House, he felt the estate suffered from his lack of personal direction last year. Mother is in attendance, however." Leo gestured to where she held court across the room, with all five Rosenbaum ladies at her side. Miriam looked as beautiful as always, the golden candlelight burnishing her dark curls with gilt. "Shall we say hello? I'm sure she'd be thrilled to see you, your Grace."
The perfect opportunity to send a discreet signal to the duke that he was, in fact, no longer available for the old man's matrimonial schemes.
As he guided his great-uncle over and made the necessary introductions, Leo thought of how to best to hint at his supposed attachment to the eldest Miss Blakeley without committing himself.
Though, he could do worse. She had both wit and beauty in full measure, and a sense of humor to match his own.
Dismissing the Duke Page 17