Look to the Stars

by Olivia Kelly

  "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.

  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... T
his 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.