Two
Azenor hesitated at taking the gentleman’s offered . . . shirtsleeve. Lord Theophilus, like his brothers, was garbed most inappropriately in loose linen, doeskin breeches, and scuffed boots. She was almost terrified to look closer—she could see bare chest. With hair.
Lord Erran at least wore an expensively embroidered gold waistcoat—not so his brothers.
They were all big men. Of course they were big, she scolded herself, taking a deep breath and delicately placing her glove on his . . . muscled . . . arm. They were Ives, after all. It was to be expected, even if Lord Theophilus wasn’t quite the bear of a man his younger brother Erran appeared to be. The heir had more of the lean, studious look of a monk, except for the waves of hair. And the unshaven jaw.
“I do apologize for disturbing you in such an inopportune manner,” she found the words to say, while trying to curb her awareness of his lordship’s masculinity. His broad shoulders and trim hips ought to be declared one of the seven wonders of the world. Or perhaps she simply lacked sufficient knowledge of male anatomy, given that most gentlemen wore coats, waistcoats, and neckcloths to cover themselves.
“No disturbance at all, my lady,” Lord Theophilus assured her in an acerbic baritone.
Without explaining the presence of a telescope and billiard table in the rotunda, he led her through a dreary corridor with unlit lamps and frayed carpet. The air smelled of mold and damp ashes. If it were not for the labor laws the marquess supported for poor overworked women and children, she’d be thinking twice about the worth of saving Ashford and his household. She did sometimes wonder if interfering with the universe’s design was interfering with the hand of God. But she simply could not in all good conscience let anyone suffer if it could possibly be prevented.
“As much as we appreciate your company brightening our dreary day, you really should not have come out in this beastly weather,” his lordship said bluntly. “A servant would have sufficed.”
“As if you would have paid heed to a servant,” she retorted, recovering a little more of her spirit. “Or that I should send servants out in weather I wouldn’t venture into myself. Besides, given the position of the planets, we would have to stay inside all summer if we feared a little rain. We are in for a few miserably wet months.”
“Indeed.” Without any other acknowledgment of her prediction, he indicated that she enter what appeared to be a study. The illumination of the gray day through tall, uncovered windows revealed piles of books and papers scattered across a threadbare rug, several wing chairs, and an imposing desk.
A wealthy marquess really ought to have servants lighting fires and lamps—and answering doors. Azenor recalled the chaotic scene greeting her earlier of half-dressed men, stacked furniture, and barking dogs. Perhaps all sane servants had fled the premises, or at least the female ones had. An all-male household would undoubtedly be a trial.
Not that she knew about such things. Her baby brother had barely been toddling when she’d seen him last. All her other siblings were girls.
Lord Theophilus lit a lamp on the desk, then stirred the embers in the grate until a small blaze warmed the room. He glanced around until he located a worn leather chair. He unceremoniously dumped off a stack of papers and tugged the chair closer to the fire. When he didn’t provide a seat for Jennet, Azenor neatly gathered the books on a second chair and removed them to the floor, gesturing for her companion to pull it next to her.
His lordship hastened to help Jennet lift the chair—a belated polite gesture, as if his skills were rusty.
With a little time to recover from the shock of his proximity, Azenor studied Ashford’s heir. There was steel and grace in Lord Theo’s movement—but he did not sport the bronze coloring of an active outdoorsman. He would look sleek and sophisticated in proper attire, the kind of man one would expect to be a courtier or politician. But the sheaf of papers in his waistband revealed his true calling of absent-minded scientist.
His features were angular and striking but not overtly handsome. His most distinguishing characteristic, aside from the unshaven square jaw that made her squirm uncomfortably, was a pair of exceedingly light blue-gray eyes that seemed to pierce her innermost soul.
She realized she was staring and hastily took the seat offered.
This wouldn’t get any easier. She gestured for Jennet to hand her the tapestry valise she used to carry her charts.
“I could wish Ashford were here as this most concerns him. I must rely on you to convey the urgency of the situation,” she explained, rummaging through the valise for the appropriate scroll.
“Had you sent word—” He cut off his criticism with the arrival of a footman and tea tray.
Not a maid, she noted. Probably a wise choice on the part of the housekeeper. A household of virile males and no female authority would be ungovernable around young women . . . which ought to make her nervous and didn’t.
If she could not have a family, she must dedicate herself to duty. Given the eccentricity of her family’s habits, the Malcolm librarian could not afford to be of a nervous nature.
From what she remembered, Lord Theo’s chart showed a man who ignored authority, who acted without consideration for others, but who was also capable of charging at challenges like an idealistic knight in shining armor. In other words, he was a difficult, complicated man but not a violent one.
It was the marquess’s dire chart causing her the most concern.
She waited until the tea had been poured and the servant departed before continuing with what she had to say. “I apologize for abruptly appearing on your doorstep. I do not always have the advantage of adequate time to send polite notes. It is not as if I spend all day studying charts of every member of the family. I would need a tribe of astrological scholars, and as far as I am aware, I am the only one in the kingdom.”
His lordship choked on his tea.
His reaction was not unanticipated. She had fretted all the way here over how to make the marquess understand the dangers he faced. Scientific men simply refused to accept what they couldn’t measure and tuck neatly into a tract or treatise.
She unrolled her scroll and launched into her practiced speech. “I have been working diligently at creating the zodiac charts of all known Malcolms. Since the Ives family started marrying into ours eighty years ago, we’ve also had to include all your births. I must say, that has caused more work than one person can conceivably handle.”
“Perhaps you need a tribe of scribes,” he said, studying her artwork from beneath a sardonically lifted brow.
“I need another librarian,” she said acidly at his absurdity, “but so far none of my cousins have seen fit to produce one. That’s beside the point.”
It wasn’t as if she would ever be able to marry in hopes of reproducing herself. She smoothed out the vellum and tapped the fourth house at the bottom of the chart. "Your brother has dangerous transits to half a dozen points that suggest catastrophe, possible death, and secret enemies. And all are in the fourth house of home and family.”
She glanced up at Theo, narrowing her eyes. “And you also have disruptive transits to points that indicate possible death of a sibling and a change in your occupation. I cannot overstate the danger of this next month or two to your brother, you, and your whole family. Remember that if your brother dies, your life will change beyond measure."
Lord Theophilus stared at her blankly. She understood his confusion, but there was so much she had to explain . . .
“And to escalate the extreme danger to your house, there is a very odd conjunction with my family’s, in the parts of catastrophe and assassination. I need further study to understand, but to all indications, whatever happens to your brother will disastrously affect mine and multiply both our problems.”
“And why am I to believe this bird-witted claptrap?” His tactless question was moderated by what appeared to be genuine curiosity.
Azenor drew a sigh of exasperation. She had known this would be diffi
cult. “Because I am very good at what I do. If you care to wait, you will see for yourself. According to my charts, the king will die in this next month. We have plummeted into a period of change that will cause more rioting and unrest before the planets re-align. Possibly because of the extremely rainy weather, this summer will be particularly distressful. But I don’t recommend waiting for those things to happen to act on my warning.”
“You’re predicting the king’s death?” he asked in incredulity. “Isn’t that treason?” He spun her paper around to study the intricate pen sketches.
She was rather proud of her charts, and this one in particular. She’d even used watercolors, to emphasize the importance of the planets for the less enlightened. “Fact is not treason,” she said prosaically.
“A prediction of what might come true is fact?” He pointed at the graphics she used to chart the position of the heavens. “Those are planets?” he asked, not hiding his mirth.
“Not all,” she said patiently. “They represent the heavenly bodies most associated with the Earth and its inhabitants because of their size and proximity, so we include the moon and sun. The houses, here . . .” She pointed out the marquess’s. “The houses represent fields of experience where the planet’s energies are most focused at the time of birth.”
“You have the planets circling the earth?” he asked with palpable scorn.
She yanked the scroll away and reined in her frustration. “A chart is a map of the sky at the moment a person first draws breath. This one is about your brother’s life. And it will end right here—” She jabbed her finger on a harsh black line. “—this month, if we do not find a way to protect him.”
Three
Had the lady been one of his brothers, Theo would have howled in derision at her prediction. Duncan—dead because a misplaced planet said so!
Her charts were preposterous, but he very much wished to know more of her considerable charms. If she really didn’t belong to Duncan . . .
Theo entertained himself by imagining removing the absurd feathers concealing Lady Aster’s hair. In this dim light, he couldn’t tell the color of the dangling curl at her nape. He was partial to blondes, but he was willing to make an exception for a glorious peahen. She wore one of those transparent frilly collars to conceal her luscious breasts, but he was taking absurd pleasure in watching them rise and fall with her indignation—probably proof that he should get out of the attic more often.
“You are saying the stars predict Duncan will die?” he asked, just to watch her suck in a breath of outrage.
“The zodiac is a circle of space containing the orbits of heavenly bodies,” she explained with less of the musical tone of earlier and more acerbic authority. The fluffy morsel contained a hint of steel. “I am saying there are dark aspects over these next months. There will be worldwide wars and rebellions over which we have no control. My concern is more immediate. A whole quiver full of arrow points are being triggered by transits in our family charts, but most particularly Ashford’s.”
“Arrow points?” he asked, his appalling curiosity and sense of humor drawing her out when he really shouldn’t. “Shall I buy him a shield?”
Her lips set a little more grimly. “Arabic parts are mathematically calculated points specific to an individual’s chart. Your brother’s points are sitting on those of assassination and catastrophe, as I said, but they also show danger to occupation and other negativities. He could die.”
“And you used the planets to make these mathematical calculations?” he asked, maintaining his gravity.
She didn’t miss his sarcasm. “Even Newton used these calculations,” she insisted. “Consult his theorems if you don’t believe me. But my charts are accurate. Perhaps because the marquess is working with my uncle—at the behest of my mother and aunts—to reform the labor laws, my family’s fate is inextricably entwined with his. We cannot predict or direct fate, but we can alleviate the result to some extent if forewarned, and it is positively essential, in Ashford’s case.”
She stroked an ugly black brooch marring the beauty of her magnificent . . . bodice. Theo had to stop thinking of the plump bosom beneath the cloth.
“We can’t keep the king from dying but we can make him comfortable?” Theo suggested, fighting lust by checking the layer of clouds out the window. If the rain didn’t stop soon, he’d have to wait another month to test his new telescope glass on Saturn’s moons.
She waited until she had his attention again before speaking.
“Telling a king he’ll be dead in a few weeks isn’t comfortable,” she said with a degree of acidity that didn’t belong on her pouty pink lips. “King George steered his own fate by indulging in excess his entire life. It’s too late for him, but not for your brother. I recommend that Ashford not go out without a companion over the next month. Whatever this is showing in his charts can’t be stopped—but if he’s injured, he’ll have someone to help him, which could save his life.”
As much as he enjoyed watching the flashing midnight stars in her eyes, Theo regretted that she was another over-excitable female. He wasn’t interested in hysterics these days, one with a misguided mania at that. He finished his tea cake and searched for an appropriate dismissal.
Instead, he couldn’t help asking, “You mentioned that this also concerns me?”
“Of course,” she said flatly, rolling up her chart. “Your chart shows you are in the part of death of siblings and danger to occupation. Practically speaking—if your brother dies, you will be the next marquess. As a Sagittarius, you would make a very bad marquess. You tend to act first, and ask questions later, don’t you? Diplomacy is not exactly your distinction. As I’ve been trying to tell you, these next years will be ones of political and economic turmoil. We will need powerful leaders to guide us, but your head is in the stars.”
“And yours is in the planets?” he retorted ungraciously, a little annoyed at her assessment of his competence, or lack thereof. “A tactless man would inquire why a lady named Dougall would claim to know about my witchy ancestors,” he pointed out—possibly tactlessly.
“As a descendant of Malcolms, you ought to know the answer to that. It is just this sort of ignorance we strive to prevent by keeping a library that can explain our sometimes extraordinary gifts. But do you or your brothers ever consult us? Heaven forbid. I can’t believe you still call us witches.” She rose abruptly and dropped a calling card on the desk. “I wish you would listen, but I must warn my family next. You’ll know where to find me when the time comes.”
Now that he had succeeded in driving her away, Theo almost regretted it. “We can’t send you back out in this weather, my lady,” he admonished, rising with her. “Let us have our housekeeper make up a room for you.”
He tried not to wince. The housekeeper would be well into the sherry by now.
“Nonsense,” she said frostily. “I have done what I needed to do for family and country. The task is in your hands now. I would not presume to inflict you with my presence longer than necessary. Come along, Jennet.”
“I did not mean to offend,” Theo insisted. “It’s foolishness to travel on a day like this. It will be dark before you reach London.” He hurried after her, unable to avoid admiring the sway of her skirt.
“My cousins are right down the road—one of the advantages of large family. You would do well to expand your circle of acquaintances instead of limiting yourself to your carousing fellows.” She swept down the corridor as if she were familiar with the maze of old chambers.
“We motherless sorts have only our school chums to expand our acquaintances,” he countered. “It’s not as if we can introduce ourselves to women unknown to us.”
Was that a delicate snort in reply? Devil take it, he shouldn’t be so fascinated with a woman he’d never see again.
“You have neighbors. Your friends have sisters. You simply do not bestir yourself to seek feminine company for any purpose but carnal.”
Well, he’d give her credit
for being right there.
Arriving in the now abandoned foyer, she turned and offered her gloved hand. “I bid you adieu, my lord. And I wish you and your family well. Do not hesitate to call on me should the need arise.”
The need would arise when Saturn fell into the sun. Ives took care of themselves. But Theo politely took her fingers and bowed. “We shall take your counsel under advisement, my lady. Thank you for thinking of us.”
Her beautiful midnight eyes narrowed as if she heard the lie in his voice. “I shall see that Ashford receives a report of our conversation. You might wish to send a servant to accompany him home, starting tonight.”
Jennet had taken on the task of footman and already opened the front door. She tapped her foot impatiently until her ladyship swung in a swirl of petticoats and walked out into the damp wind.
Theo started to shove his hand in his pocket . . . and realized he wore no coat. Swearing under his breath, he let the door close on the strangest visitor the house had welcomed in decades. It would probably be a good thing when Duncan married and they had a woman around here again.
With no further distraction available, he packed up his telescope to carry it back to his room. There would be no stars tonight.
Planets might affect each other’s orbits. The moon might affect the tides. But the sun did not dictate death. A pity the lovely lady had wits to let.
Late June, 1830
Using the billiard table as a sturdier base for his telescope, Theo adjusted the settings on his glass and directed it at the broken pane above the door.
“What the devil are you doing?” Duncan Ives, Lord Ashford, yanked on his riding gloves as he strode through the foyer. Tall, broad-shouldered, black-haired, and fitting the description of a villain in an old gothic romance in his billowing capes and tall black hat, he halted his progress to glare at Theo.
“Saturn is in near-perfect alignment with the earth tonight. If my new glass proves Saturn has more than six moons, my fortune is made, but the bloody rain won’t stop,” Theo grumbled. “I don’t have enough circumference from the guard tower but the angle from the front might work at this hour.”
Magic in the Stars Page 2