Magic in the Stars

by Patricia Rice

  “That isn’t . . .?” She touched the brass dolphin and turned it. Water gushed into the porcelain tub. She hastily spun it closed.

  “A Roman bath? Almost. One of the great-grands built it for his wife, and it’s been improved upon over the years. There’s another in Ashford’s wing my family can use. We’ll leave this one for you and your ladies. You need to soak that ankle before it swells. I’ll send one of your maids up when they arrive. There are linens in that cabinet.” He nodded at a large wardrobe.

  “You have running water, gas sconces, and speaking tubes, but can’t keep the carpets maintained?” she asked, her dark eyes widening in a disbelief that made him squirm.

  Theo shrugged off his discomfort. “None of the family weaves carpets or we’d no doubt have them hanging from the walls.”

  “I have a cousin who weaves tapestries . . .” she said in a dangerous tone that Theo already recognized as plotting.

  He shoved the spaniel out the door and left the lady there before she discovered the risqué murals. As an afterthought, he turned the key in the lock and took it with him. That kept both the lady and his brothers from exploring until he had order restored.

  She was a rare handful, and Theo had to quit thinking about her naked in the bath until he was decent enough to re-join the ladies. He blamed the long dry spell between mistresses for his illogical reaction to an irrational female.

  He was not, by nature, an anxious man, but circumstances were in the process of giving him gray hairs at an early age. Instead of hurrying to help with the coach, he turned down the hall to Ashford’s chamber.

  The marquess was standing in the middle of the room in a clutter of spilled books and tea trays, blindly kicking any object he encountered. The puppies who’d been waiting eagerly outside the door pranced in to play tug-of-war with the papers scattered about.

  “The physician said you might stand on that leg?” Theo asked dryly, since his brother’s injured limb was still wrapped in tight bandages, and he wore nothing except his nightshirt to conceal the fact.

  Duncan uttered a German epithet of a particularly obscene nature.

  “Fine, then, wallow as you like, but keep it down to a low roar or the ladies will think we’ve confined a mad uncle to the attic. And these particular ladies seem more inclined to go looking for a Bedlamite rather than running from one.”

  The marquess swung his sightless eyes in the direction of Theo’s voice. “They haven’t run screaming from the premises already?”

  “Their carriage overturned and was dragged half way down the lane, and they merely protested when I insisted they not walk to the house. I’ve locked one in the bathing room, however. She’s as much a Bedlamite as you. She’ll no doubt be in here as soon as she figures out how to unlock the door, so I suggest you either get in bed or put on trousers.”

  “Fitting,” Duncan muttered, easing his way through the puppies in the direction of the wardrobe. He still limped badly. “We’d be better off hiring an army sergeant.”

  “I cannot bed an army sergeant. If it is now my duty to produce heirs, I need a wife. You will behave until that happens, or I’ll poison you in your sleep.”

  Duncan snorted. “Cook is doing a damned fine job of that already. Who told him I was supposed to eat pig swill?”

  “Cook quit. We’re all eating pig swill. But Lady Azenor is bringing in a troop of servants. I’m hoping she’ll know a cook who won’t mind dogs in the kitchen.”

  Unable to see the latch to the wardrobe, Duncan thumped his fist against the panel until it popped open. “The solution there is astonishingly obvious,” he said dryly.

  “Right, build Will his own kitchen so he can raise his litters in it. My observatory comes first, though.” Theo slammed out, shutting in the damned hounds and leaving the marquess to dodge puppies and find his own trousers.

  Not hearing screams from the bathing room just yet, he took the north stairs down, planning on cutting through the courtyard to the stable. Outside, he glanced back at the house—and saw a chain of sheets being lowered from the bathing room window.

  Ten

  Aster was not so intrepid that she had any particular intention of climbing out the window. She actually longed to soak her bruises in a hot tub of water. Like her cats, she was a creature of comfort who preferred warmth and order and pampering.

  She did not, however, appreciate being hauled about and locked up as if she were a noisome basset hound.

  And she had no intention of undressing until she had clean clothing in which to dress herself when she was done. Not to mention that she couldn’t unfasten her laces without help.

  She smirked in triumph as Lord Theo saw her warning flag. By the time he’d stormed back up the stairs, she’d located another key on the door frame and unlocked the door. Men were so very predictable. She returned the key to the frame and stepped into the corridor as he reached the landing, breathing fire and brimstone.

  “I will need a maid and my trunks before I can accept your generous offer of hot water,” she said amiably, limping down the hall. “I would like to check on the rooms assigned to my family.”

  “You need a keeper,” he replied in a surly growl, stalking ahead of her to throw open doors. “Maids.” He gestured at a narrow room.

  “Your sister.” He opened the door on an elegant four-poster covered in what appeared to be a fading medieval tapestry.

  “Your cousin.” Another poster bed. A slightly more frayed tapestry.

  “Clean linen.” A lovely closet crammed with what was probably threadbare sheets. “Mrs. Smith only tipples in the afternoon after her duties are done.”

  Trying to ignore his masculine ire, Aster studied the chambers he opened. “Since they did not bring their own maids, I think it would be best if Briana and Deirdre share a room. I take it you do not house maids in your servants’ attic?”

  “Not currently. If yours want the female dormer, Mrs. Smith can show them where to find linens. I couldn’t tell her if you were bringing ladies’ maids or how many.”

  “My great-aunt will be joining us as a chaperone. She’ll require this chamber with a fireplace. Her feet are often cold, and she likes to put them up before a good fire. We’re training new girls as ladies’ maids and underservants. Let’s keep them near us for now. This room with the trundle beds should suffice.”

  She verified that there were stairs on either end of the corridor, plus the stairs on the connecting wing. Aster supposed that was necessary for safety, but she’d have to find means of keeping out male intruders. Great-Aunt Nessie was for appearances only. Practically speaking, she was half-deaf and would be useless as a chaperone. On the other hand, Nessie wasn’t likely to fret too much over howling dogs and inexplicable explosions.

  A commotion of crashes, curses, and howls from below indicated new arrivals.

  “Don’t!” His lordship warned, catching her arm before she could hurry to greet her company. “You will ruin that foot if you hobble about anymore. I’ll send everyone up to you to order about as you please.”

  She sighed in exasperation and gazed up at her tall host. Lord Theo truly had amazing silver-blue eyes, but his brows were drawn down in vexation, giving him a most uncongenial expression. “Perhaps if you will accept that I can take care of myself, and you would better spend your time taking care of your brothers, we might swim along a trifle better.”

  He scowled even more but gave her suggestion some thought. “I don’t want to lose your help before the guests arrive. I am trying to protect you from the worst of Iveston’s elements and show off the best. If you will promise not to run screaming into the night once I turn my back, I will attempt to do as you say.”

  “Do I look like someone who runs screaming into the night?” she asked with asperity.

  “Yes, actually you look like a ball of fluff. But so do Saturn’s rings and they’re not, so I’ll accept that you’re tougher than you look. Hie yourself to the bathing room, and I’ll have your trunks and maid s
ent up.”

  Aster didn’t know if a ball of fluff was flattering, or what Saturn’s rings might be. She didn’t know how to take his lordship’s seeming agreement when he was still ordering her about. She tried very hard not to think about Lord Theo at all after he’d departed. Instead, she mentally rearranged rooms for her servants. When her muddled mind deemed that impossible—his hands upon her had left an indelible impression on her thoughts as well as her person—she decided to be irritated at his arrogance. She would be very glad to send him about his business while she went about hers.

  Perhaps he was right. Perhaps if she despised him, they could work together.

  Her cousin and sister arrived battered and torn and not precisely happy—until she introduced them to the bathing room.

  They gasped in wonder and began darting about, examining the linen wardrobe, turning up the sconces—and revealing the naked mural. Even that didn’t disturb them greatly. Their family homes contained Roman statues and even an ancient mosaic or two.

  “Oh, this is marvelous! I shall marry Lord Theo just for his tub,” Briana declared worshipfully, running her hand over the tiled enclosure.

  “You know nothing of mathematics, farming, animals, or tenants,” Aster reminded her sister, perhaps a trifle waspishly. “And you enjoy the city too much and lack the patience to endure living in this rural outpost surrounded by heathen Ives.”

  She wasn’t any better, Aster reminded herself. She needed the city and its libraries and lectures. She had to quit behaving like a bird-witted miss because a strong, handsome scientist had swept her across the threshold in his arms.

  “Emilia would love that courtyard for her herbs,” Deirdre said loyally. “Perhaps if she marries an Ives and gains her inheritance, she could hire people to manage this place.”

  “Emilia won’t be of much help to Lord Theo,” Aster warned. “She always has her head stuck in a book or her laboratory. But the marquess might be a convenient match for her. From the sounds of it, he throws things. She could ignore him.”

  Limping, she left to direct the new maids in their duties. Fresh from her Aunt Daphne’s rural village, the maids might know how to milk cows, but they’d never seen wardrobes of the size and elegance of Iveston Hall. Azenor explained where things went, had them press out fresh gowns under the tutelage of Mary and Molly, her two trained maids, and sent them to carry the garments to the bathing room for Briana and Deirdre.

  Her ankle ached so badly by the time she reached her room that she had to sit on the bed and remove her boot. She nearly wept from the agony of her effort.

  Unaccustomed to physical weakness, she persisted, finally prying off the offending leather. Studying her swollen ankle, she wondered if she hadn’t bitten off rather more than she could possibly chew.

  Indecision was the negative side of being a Libra, she knew. She simply had to keep reminding herself to move forward and not look back.

  The riotous barking of dogs warned of a new arrival. She sighed and searched through her trunk for a pair of slippers.

  By the time she’d tidied her nest of curls, hidden the worst wear and tear on her gown with a shawl, and limped into the corridor, Great-Aunt Nessie’s solid square figure was bearing down on her, followed by her harried maid and one of Aster’s inexperienced footmen carrying a stack of luggage.

  “There you are, dear girl! So thoughtful of you to ask for me.” Garbed in the full skirts and petticoats of a prior century, her iron gray hair sporting a beribboned mob cap, Nessie cruised slowly down the corridor like a massive brigantine.

  Aster hugged her mother’s aunt. “It was lovely of you to come. I fear the house is a bit of a hubble-bubble.”

  “The mouse is trouble? Always are, dear. I brought my kitties, never fear.” She gestured at a mewling basket carried on her arm.

  Aster knew better than to correct the lady, or she’d be in the drafty corridor until dinner time. Imagining what would happen if the adventurous kittens escaped into the dog-ridden household, she shuddered and led her aunt to the furthest chamber in the ladies’ wing—her lone centurion to guard against invasions up the front stairs.

  “I had the footmen make up a fire,” she told her aunt. “Just sit and rest and I’ll come fetch you in time for dinner.”

  “Your young man is a winner?” Nessie inquired, settling into an almost-respectable wing chair. “He appeared a bit beleaguered to me. Did he win a great deal?”

  “A great deal,” Aster repeated, pressing a kiss to her aunt’s cheek and escaping before the conversation became any more torturous.

  She reached the corridor only to bounce off a solid wall of embroidered blue waistcoat that she recognized rather well by now. She tilted her head to scowl up at his lordship. “This is the ladies’ wing, sir. What kind of example do you set?”

  ***

  Theo regarded his maddening guest with impatience. “How will you direct a house party if you cannot even walk?”

  He lifted her fluffy skirt to examine the ominous swelling of her ankle. Lady Azenor cuffed his ear for his rudeness, but accustomed to much stronger blows from his brothers, Theo ignored her puny effort. He liked that she didn’t run off shrieking, so he merely offered his arm rather than hauling her around. “You will soak that injury until the physician is done with the coachman and can see you.”

  “Now that I have my trunks, I will be most happy to soak it in one of Emilia’s medicinal herbs. I do not need your quack, who will want to suck my blood or something else inordinately obnoxious.”

  His ball of fluff limped irately—but obediently—down the corridor with him. “We only use the most modern of physicians, I assure you. If you keep track of our family, you will recall that we have members all over Northumberland and Edinburgh who know the finest medical students. Dr. Joseph probably saved Duncan’s life.”

  “But not his eyesight. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be happy to speak with him—after I’ve bathed and soaked my ankle.”

  “You will not read his stars,” Theo ordered. “Joseph is a man of science and does not believe silly superstition.”

  She released his arm and stalked ahead of him, limping as fast as her lovely, swaying hips could go. “Your family signs are now on the parts of peril and secret enemies. The entire summer is likely to be one immense disaster after another. I suggest that you not alienate me into leaving before you find a wife and create an heir.”

  “I am not reassured that I will be marrying while peril is hanging over me,” he said dryly. Although he had a notion that his idea of disaster and hers might be two entirely different matters. Marrying him might be a calamity for a lady—but a blessing for his family. A point to ponder when he didn’t have a desirable pocket Venus twitching her curves beneath his nose.

  “I was not looking for family and relationships at the time I perused your brother’s chart,” she acknowledged, dismissing his argument and apparently oblivious to his panting admiration. “I shall do so this evening. It is a complex undertaking, since our families are very large, and it’s difficult to separate our parts from those of the ladies I’m bringing out here, some of whom are also distantly related.”

  Lady parts often looked alike in Theo’s experience, but he was quite certain this lady’s parts would be easily recognizable. He actually bit his tongue on that comment.

  “Good to know that your scientific journey is as difficult as mine,” he said instead. “I left the reports you requested in your room—a little night time reading to put you to sleep.”

  He enjoyed her expression of delight and approval—which meant he needed to annoy her again so they could remain enemies. “I don’t expect you to understand a word of the treatises, but I always keep my promises.”

  That returned her glare. She knocked peremptorily on the bathing room door. “It is my turn,” she called to the occupants. “You must keep Aunt Nessie entertained and the maids in order and the kittens out of the halls until I’m done.”

  Kittens? Theo shudd
ered.

  Two laughing nymphs emerged with damp curls, followed by two young maids carrying armfuls of frippery. Theo swallowed hard at the mountains of delicate lace and cast a gaze to the dragon lady’s skirts. What did she wear under that colorful swathe of exotic muslin? Not a mountain’s worth of petticoats, he’d seen for himself.

  But the glimpse of her ankle was sufficient to have him salivating without imagining what else she was or wasn’t wearing. She had slender, well-turned ankles to match her hourglass figure.

  He didn’t care if their planets fell from the sky or shot through the heavens. He wanted this woman in his bed and to hell with any other.

  Eleven

  Having bathed in the luxurious tub and dressed in her dinner gown, Aster allowed Dr. Joseph to examine and wrap her ankle while she picked his brains about the marquess’s plight.

  “So there is some hope that his sight might return?” she prodded, when the physician beat all around the proverbial bush.

  “Some, just as there is some chance he might keel over dead tomorrow. I do not expect either result. I believe the brain swelling is reduced, but it has damaged the optic nerve,” he said stiffly.

  Dr. Joseph was a man in his early thirties, disguising his youth with a prickly brown beard and wire-rimmed eyeglasses. Aster noted he peered over them most of the time. She wondered if he might be a good match for Emilia.

  What to do about the blind marquess loomed larger in her mind than marrying off Emilia. Aunt Gwenna’s parliamentary bill to help the children was even more important than keeping Iveston from descending into chaos—although Lord Theo might not appreciate that sentiment. How could she force a blind marquess to acknowledge his duties?

  “But just as my ankle will recover, Ashford’s optic nerve might,” she suggested. Before the physician could argue, she asked, “Were you born in January?”