Though Miriam was clearly taken aback when faced with the duke, a man intimidating upon first introduction, it took her but a moment to rally. Her smile was serene as she answered his great-uncle's questions about their home in New York.
"I think you'd be quite surprised, your Grace." She smoothed her skirts a second time, Leo recognizing the only sign of nerves she allowed to show. "The city is not as large or full of entertainments as London, of course, but it is not without its charms."
"I prefer the country."
"As do I. Cities are too full of coal smoke and carriages and people," Ester piped up, ignoring her twin's wide eyes at her boldness. Leo hid a smile as the duke turned to study the young woman, his brows drawn together.
"A sensible girl." He gave a sharp nod, leaning on his cane. Looking around at the group, he tipped his head toward her. "I like this one."
Fannie let out her breath in an audible whoosh, as Ester beamed at the older man. "Do you like horses, your Grace?"
As the two chatted amicably, the rest of the group looking on in pleased confusion, Leo leaned in as close as he dared, and murmured in Miriam's ear. "You look lovely tonight."
She went a bit pink, smoothing her dress again. "Thank you, Mr. Blakeley."
Leo wanted to touch her. Place his hand on her back. Run a palm over her arm. Discover if the skin of her gently rounded shoulders, rising out of the pale silk of her evening gown, was as velvety smooth as it looked. Too bad there was no dancing tonight, it would have been a convenient excuse to get his hands on her.
He'd have to settle for looking instead, his favorite hobby of late.
It wasn't exactly a problem, this new habit, though it was a bit unsettling. Miriam drew his gaze whenever she entered a room, and he could not keep his attention to wandering back her way. He's done it on purpose when he first chose her for his plans, keeping her his sole focus in the middle of a crowd, but now...
Now it just happened.
Since there seemed to be nothing he could do about it, and it certainly wasn't any hardship to look upon her, he'd enjoy it as long as possible. Once she went back to America at the end of the Season, he'd have to find a new way to entertain himself.
A prospect that left him strangely unenthused.
"Yes, but he'd never allow it. Their father is a Jew." The whispered comment, accompanied by a high pitched giggle, drifted to where Leo stood. Miriam stiffened beside him, and he cursed inwardly.
He'd been born to privilege, both in class and by religion, and couldn't fathom what it was like to have people disdain one in such a bold manner. This was the first time he'd been witness to it with Miriam, but he'd had a classmate at Eton who dealt with the same snide comments and disapproving looks. Jacob had walked away bloody from more than one altercation, and Leo never blamed him in the least. He'd even jumped into the fray a few times himself, hating to see a bully go unpunished.
Miriam had that same fiery look in her eye now.
"Would you care for a walk, Miss Rosenbaum?" he said pitching his voice to carry, his gaze on the two women standing nearby who'd been snickering behind their fans. "I believe the rain has stopped, and the air here has become positively rancid."
He had doubt she could defend herself, but he didn't mind jumping into the fray once again. Miriam's eyes widened at his words and she pressed her lips together in sudden amusement, taking the arm he offered.
"You know, you're quite right. Positively fetid. A breath of fresh air would be lovely." She inclined her head in a gracious nod to the women as they swept past the gaping pair. No one would have guessed the tightness with which she gripped his arm, her fingers trembling.
They were safely down the terrace steps, at the edge of the well-lit, damp garden, when she spun away, fists clenched.
"Ugh!" Her shoulders heaved as she drew in a deep breath, fury burning in her eyes. "Horrid cows. I was having a perfectly nice time... I should have known this would happen sooner or later, it always does."
Leo waited, not wanting to attempt to soothe her with empty platitudes. What did he know of it? Nothing. All he could do was remove her from the situation and lend her a sympathetic ear.
"At least the girls didn't hear their nastiness. It would have ruined their entire evening, especially Fannie. She is so very sensitive to that sort of thing," Miriam said, some of the anger fading from her expression. She glanced back toward the house, and the few other people enjoying the break in the constant drill of rain, and lowered her voice. "Thank you for your intervention before I made a scene I'm not sure I would regret later. I wanted to stuff that woman's head into her reticule!"
He grinned, leaning against a wooden post covered in still dripping flowers.
"Now that would have livened up the musicale considerably."
Miriam sent him a quick smile, but it soon took on a tinge of bitter anger, as she looked away and down. "I cannot say I'm surprised by their attitude. I'm a Jewish woman not interested in conforming to society's expectations, I've encountered it my entire life. But it's infuriating."
"Those who do not allow others to dictate their place in the world will always be met with vitriol by small-minded people. You're brilliant, and should not listen to any of them." Leo hadn't meant to let that loose, his admiration of her. It had just happened.
But it filled him with an odd sense of fury that she should be subjected to such comments, though he had no doubt she did it with her chin held high. Perhaps hearing a bit of encouragement would help take some of the sting out of the incident. What he said was only the truth. She was brilliant, and if she let people like those women stop her, it would be a damn tragedy.
But when Miriam turned to look at him with wide eyes, Leo merely shrugged. It made him uncomfortable, the way she studied him, as if she was peeling back layers and peering beneath. He doubted she'd find much, he'd never been very complex.
Not like her.
Thunder rumbled overhead, signaling the spring storms hadn't finished with London yet. A fat drop of rain landed on his shoulder, causing them both to look skyward with wariness. Another drop followed the first, and Leo straightened away from the post in relief.
He'd live to disappoint her with his shallow character some other night.
They ran for the house, laughing, as the heavens opened up. As Leo pulled open the terrace doors and ushered her inside, both of them breathless, dripping, and merry, he realized he didn't want to disappoint her. For the first time in his life, he wished her could be a different man.
The sort of man meant for greater things, who would change the world. The sort of man to garner admiration for his accomplishments, not the place in society he would inherit. The sort of man who had layers upon layers, deep, complex thoughts, and something more to offer than a title.
The sort of man that Miriam might take seriously.
As she shook the droplets of water from her hair, face shining, her anger set aside, he knew he'd never be that man. There were slivers of time he could enjoy with her, like these, but they wouldn't last.
Danby chose that moment to glance up from where he stood, still chatting with Ester. His shrewd eyes took in the couple, damp and laughing, then the rain outside. A satisfied look crossed his face, and he went back to his conversation with a smug, little smile.
Leo caught himself, and snorted with self-derision. He kept losing sight of what he was really doing here, with Miriam. It was easy to do, in her company. But the courtship wasn't real, and there was no need to grow maudlin over its inevitable conclusion.
Shaking off the rain, he sent her a wide smile and took her elbow as the musicale begin again, calling himself a fool the entire way to their seats.
Chapter 7
Five days.
Five days of rain. Five days of being trapped between her mother and the ever charming Mr. Blakeley. Five days of his lopsided smiles, his shiver inducing murmurs in her ear, his hard muscled arm under her fingertips as he introduced her to every one of his friends, who
were legion. Five days of having him at her elbow with a joke or a glass of lemonade. Five days of pleasant afternoon outings to the British Museum or the lending library with her sisters in tow.
Five nights since that ear-splitting musicale of Lady Atherton's, where Mr. Blakeley had rescued her from those awful women and Miriam realized how close she was to being completely captivated by the man.
Slipping through the door of one of the Duke of Danby's libraries, a smallish one that looked like it was actually used, she rubbed at her aching head. They'd only arrived at the gala an hour before, but the crowd in the massive ballroom had left her irritable and snappish. Already being called the event of the Season for its lavish decor, groaning tables of epicurean delights, and exclusive guest list, the ball thrown by the Marchioness of Norland for her father-in-law, was a complete crush.
Miriam still wasn't certain how she and her sisters had received an invitation. Perhaps Ester had charmed the duke more than any of them realized. They had been quite chummy at the musicale, an odd pair.
However the Rosenbaum sisters had landed here, she had to admit she was overwhelmed. There was nothing even in New York to compare to this level of the aristocracy's sheer dedication to the art of decadence. Here was the ton her mother always spoke of with wistful nostalgia. Miriam shook her head with a huff of laughter. How had Mama survived it?
It wasn't that dancing all night, eating fancy little cakes, and wearing beautiful dresses was such a hardship. It wasn't. Despite her resolve to not allow herself to be distracted, she did find their outings surprisingly entertaining. Most of the time.
In moderation.
But it wasn't helping her achieve her goals, and that was a problem.
Lady Pennyworth and Mama had kept them so busy the last week, there had hardly been time to sit down, much less sneak away to the Academy. The frustration of being denied the one thing she'd been looking forward to during this visit was starting to wear on Miriam. Her temper had thinned as time wore on, irritated by the unending activity, the constant overhead clouds, and him.
Leaving the door cracked open, she wandered the large room, trailing her fingers along the bookshelves and thinking.
There had to be a way to make her mother understand that what Miriam wanted wasn't a phase. Her passion wasn't going to go away, no matter how many balls she attended. Perhaps if Mama knew how much the opportunity to study alongside the Minskys meant to her... This might be her only chance to find her place in the world. A place where she could have purpose and work, and take joy in both.
The sudden sound of masculine laughter from the corridor, drawing closer, had Miriam scrambling for the terrace doors. Taking a few moments for herself had been risky. If she was caught alone, no chaperone in sight, it would spark talk. The sort of talk that would ruin her sisters' London prospects as surely as they had been squashed back home.
Yanking open the door, she darted through, pulling it shut just in time. Light flooded the room as several gentlemen entered, shining through the cracks in the curtains, the stone of the terrace glowing golden in thin stripes. Letting out a breath of relief, Miriam started to back away quietly.
Only to find she'd closed her skirts in the door in her haste.
"Oh dear God," she whispered in horror, trying to tug on them without rattling the door. It felt as though they might slide loose, then the wood frame creaked, and she froze. Thankfully, none of the men inside seemed to notice. But if any of them took it into their heads to step outside for a smoke, she was in trouble.
Swallowing, Miriam closed her eyes and tried not to scream in frustration. Why, why must these things always happen to her?
"Well, this is interesting."
Her eyes flew open again, to take in Mr. Blakeley's smirk as he leaned on the stone wall of the terrace a few feet away.
"Shhh," she hissed, glancing over her shoulder at the glass, but the curtains didn't even twitch. He arched one dark eyebrow, gaze travelling down the length of her in a manner much too leisurely for her liking, until it lit upon the bit of material snagged in the door.
His eyes flashed back up to hers, bright and merry. Miriam raised her finger as he opened his mouth.
"Not. One. Word." She took a calming breath, smoothing down the front of her dress, attempting to ignore her mortifying position. "It so happens I've found myself in a bit of a predicament. I could use the assistance of a gentleman. Do you think, Mr. Blakeley, you might be able to manage that?"
His lips curled up on one side, in the charming way that bothered her so. It did terrible things to her pulse.
"May I speak?"
She gestured behind her, where the gentlemen could still be heard conversing in loud voices.
"If you can do it quietly."
With a snort, he stepped forward, crowding her against the glass door to get a better look at how she was stuck. She stood very still, staring at the tousled, dark crown of his head, just inches from her belly, as he leaned down. Oh, why couldn't he be a toad with boorish manners? Everything would be so much easier if she could dislike him.
"May I ask how this happened?"
"I just needed a moment to myself." Miriam sighed, shoulders drooping. "The first night in nearly a week it hasn't rained, and instead of studying the stars, I'm drinking warm lemonade and getting my toes stepped on."
"Is it as bad as all that, then?" Leo straightened, still too close. Close enough she could see the shadow of new beard on his firm cheeks, smell the faint spicy scent of pomade in his hair.
"Hmm?"
A smile slowly unfurled, the amused light in Leo's eyes shifting into something else. Something smoky. Something that made her pulse rabbit, as she realized the room behind her had gone dark and quiet again. It was just the two of them, alone on the terrace, with her still pinned in place by her dratted skirts.
There was a long moment of silence as they stared at each other, then his eyes dropped to her mouth. One hand settled on Miriam's lower back as he gathered her close, her palms coming up to press on the broad expanse of his chest, the heat of him coming right through the linen of his shirt to warm her fingers.
Tipping her chin up gently with the hand not securing her body flush against parts of him she couldn't think about without combusting, he leaned down and rubbed his lips over hers. So light, she almost didn't feel it.
Oh, who was she trying to fool? She'd felt it from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. Rather what being struck by lightning would feel like, she imagined.
"Mr. Blakeley—"
"I think you'd better call me Leo, don't you? Mr. Blakeley is much too formal at the moment, and anything is leagues better than Leonato," he murmured as he placed a small kiss on the corner of her mouth.
"Leonato...?" Miriam concentrated on breathing steadily, something that was harder to manage than she'd have thought, with her wits melting the way they were.
"My mother adores Shakespeare, and my father adores my mother. An adorable character quirk on both their parts, don't you think? I'll never understand why she couldn't have just named me William and been done with it. William Blakeley would have been a perfectly respectable name."
She was dying and he was nattering on about his mother.
"Do you always talk this much when kissing?"
His low laugh puffed against her lips.
He tasted like smoke and liquor, but not unpleasantly. She drew in a sharp breath, closing her fingers on the edges of his coat, holding him to her. Apparently, he liked that. With a groan, he crushed his mouth to hers in an entirely different way, his body pressing her back against the cold glass of the door.
"Leo," she gasped, making free use of his name now. As if she could help herself. As if she had any control over her mouth at that moment.
This was passion, hot and wild.
She felt it, as surely as he did, streaking through her. Weakening her knees, shaking her innards, fuzzing her brain. She never wanted to stop, didn't need to breathe, to Hades with t
he rest of the ball. This was magnificent. She could understand why girls allowed themselves to be ruined, now.
Miriam would ruin herself for this, if she could have this, if she could have him, every night.
The thought was so frightening, so contrary to everything she wanted from life, she broke away from him with a sharp, "No!" and twisted the handle at her back with a hard jerk.
The door opened abruptly and she stumbled inside the library, then slammed it shut again, unable to look at his stunned expression a moment longer. There was a measure of hurt there as well, that she wasn't ready to face.
Regret pinched but she pushed it away.
Standing very still for a moment, palms pressed to flaming cheeks, Miriam struggled to slow her heartbeat. From the other side of the glass, there was silence, then the distinct sound of his boots striding away. With shaking hands, she patted her hair, tucking up several loose curls.
Well. That was certainly never going to happen again, lovely as it had been.
What had she been thinking? She wasn't here to find a husband, or even a lover. This trip was about her work, it was about securing her future in the field of astronomy, it was about... it was about...
It wasn't about kisses from English gentlemen!
No, this could not happen again. Kissing Leo Blakeley was a serious threat to her plans, and that would not be tolerated. After her severe rejection, however, she doubted he would attempt it a second time, so there was no need to fret. And she didn't want this, she didn't, so there was no need for disappointment at the thought of his future indifference toward her.
She would turn her full attention to securing a visit to the Academy, and the Minskys, instead. With or without Mama's approval.
If she was looking for a silver lining, then she could only be satisfied this had happened. Now she knew what it was like to kiss Leo, and would wonder no more, thus forbidding it to distract her from her future. It was over and done with, and she could move on. She would put him from her thoughts immediately. Her focus from here on out would solely be for her work, as it should have been all along.
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