A Slight Miscalculation

by Deb Marlowe

  She bristled. “A woman with a talent for mathematics?”

  “It’s a surprise for a woman to pursue such advanced study, yes . . . but that’s the least of today’s surprises.”

  Laughing, she relented. “Yes. A duel is one thing, but being shot with an arrow is another. I hope you’ll forgive the girls their enthusiasm—and my interference.”

  “How did you find the miscalculation?”

  She shrugged. “Mathematics come easily to me. I picked it out right away.” She cocked a brow. “Truly, though, it was a small mistake—and the implications of your results are still fascinating. Those variations in the orbit—”

  His brows shot skyward. “You are truly interested in astronomy?”

  Jane nodded. “I was inspired by Caroline Herschel. Her discoveries, the work she’s done with her brother. It’s fascinating.”

  Lord Worthe pursed his lips. “Mathematics, astronomy—and this?” He gestured.

  Her expression hardened. “I have many interests, Lord Worthe. You would not be the first to disparage them.”

  He held out a hand. “I don’t disapprove. I’m in utter sympathy with anyone bucking Society to pursue their interests.” His mouth twisted into a grin that caught Jane’s breath. “I have a disapproving mother, too.”

  She gaped. “How did you know?”

  “Your footman—who also told me how to find you.”

  “Ah. Robert is new at his post.” She sighed. “My poor mother lives in fear I’ll turn off every eligible bachelor in the ton.”

  “Mine shares nearly the same fear. I refuse to bow to it. It’s only selfishness that has her so interested in my eventual marriage, in any case.”

  “Selfishness?”

  “My father died when I was young. Mother’s indulged in enough scandalous behavior since to prove she’s not worried for the title or family name. She only wants to be seen as a success in her maternal role. Instilled all the correct duties, you know.” He grinned. “And I’m convinced she wants to hold the reins in planning a grand wedding.”

  “I’m sorry.” His situation sounded worse than hers. “My mother is relentless, but I believe she only wishes me happy.”

  “If mine wanted me happy, she’d let me alone. She can’t be concerned with my future wife’s happiness either, to fob me off on her.” He bent her a look of commiseration that set Jane’s heart to pounding. “I have the advantage on you—I can wait to marry and suffer only mild censure. Good thing, too. I’m used to being alone. I’m too caught up in my projects and observations to inflict myself on some poor girl.”

  Jane had made it a practice never to hold back what should be said. She wouldn’t start now. “Perhaps you need only find a girl who shares your interests.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think such a creature exists. Certainly, in nearly three decades, I’ve never found her.”

  She breathed deep. Straightened her shoulders. “You have now.”

  “Miss Jane!” Peggy burst back into the parlor. “Hestia has a book in her office with the constellations listed. And one’s a princess!”

  Lord Worthe’s eyes remained locked with Jane’s. “I’m very sorry,” he said softly. “That one’s been taken.”

  Chapter Three

  Misty rain dampened everything the next day, stealing color and turning everything grey as Worthe knocked at the Half Moon House door. He told himself that it was only an excuse to escape his mother—she’d invited herself to tea and he knew she wouldn’t come alone. If he had to spend the afternoon with a debutante, then Jane Tillney was right, he’d prefer one who knew a comet from a nebula.

  “Lord Worthe!” Peggy saw him over the burly butler’s shoulder as she passed in the hall. “Come in and see how well we are getting on!”

  Now that his vision was clear, Worthe noticed the wide entry had a parlor on either side. The left was filled with sewing, gossiping women. The right held Jane Tillney once more, crouching and finishing the trim on a completed robe.

  “Come in, my lord, and see,” she called. “The first one is finished!”

  Yesterday’s Diana had been transformed into the Archer. He paused and cocked a brow. “Is it safe?”

  “I promise not to shoot,” Molly said, sheepish. “But we did have the bow.”

  “You’ve outdone yourselves,” he said admiringly, stepping forward. The silver was striking against the deep blue. “It will look spectacular under the stage lights.”

  “I thought so, too,” Jane said.

  He spread his hands. “I’ve no skill with a needle, but I thought I’d see if there was a way I could help.”

  “There is! Your escort would be welcome.” Jane climbed to her feet, smiling at him, and suddenly Worthe was as out of breath as he’d been when he hit the walkway. “We’ve need of more fabric.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  “Good. My carriage is out back.” She turned to the butler, who’d obviously been recruited to help. “Isaac, if you don’t object, I’ll take a groom along as chaperone.”

  The servant, carefully cutting multi-rayed silver stars, only nodded.

  Worthe helped her into a snug pelisse of fawn silk damask. He could barely take his eyes from her. She was lovely in an understated way, with soft curves and a ready smile. One had to look close to see the beauty of her eyes and her fine bone structure, and one had to spend time with her to enjoy that quick mind. Somehow the unassuming nature of her best qualities made them all the more precious.

  They spoke a little of the work still to be done as the carriage set out. And she thanked him once again.

  “I should thank you.” He grinned. “You’ve provided the perfect excuse to avoid my mother and her latest candidates for viscountess.”

  She didn’t return the smile. “I was thinking of what you said. Perhaps you might broaden your thinking when it comes to your mother. Take her perspective into account? Perhaps she only fixates on your marriage because it might give her a chance to spend time with you.”

  Worthe softened. “That’s a very generous notion.” He grimaced. “And yet unlikely. My mother never wished to spend time with me, unless her role as dutiful maternal figure might impress a friend or lover.”

  She shrank a little. “Oh.”

  He shrugged. “She’s very fashionable—and very changeable. As a child I lived in uncertainty. Which would it be, when we encountered each other? Would I be coddled, merely acknowledged, or chased away?”

  Her eyes had gone wide. “I’m very sorry. It sounds . . . difficult.”

  There was a moment of silence as she stared out at the drizzle, then she turned back, expectantly. “You mentioned yesterday that you are usually absorbed in your work. Is it related to the observations in your article?”

  For the first time he was pleased to discuss his work in company. “Yes. Something is causing those orbital variations. I’m working now to build a telescope powerful enough to investigate. I believe I’ve narrowed down the right areas to search.”

  Her eyes lit up and something happened inside of him. A shift. An easing, perhaps, of some tight restriction.

  “Are you building it yourself? Grinding the mirror discs and all? I’ve read a little about the process.”

  He nodded.

  “It must be time consuming.”

  “Incredibly. And tedious, but I’ll know it was done right.” His mouth twitched. “My valet is in revolt, however.”

  “The emery powder? Ah, I can imagine. And when you come to the silvering—”

  They talked companionably as they arrived at the linen draper’s and Jane ordered several more yards of fabric.

  “Allow me,” he insisted, when it came time to address the bill.

  “Oh, how generous of you!” she said earnestly. “My pin money bought yesterday’s but this morning I had to raid the household cash Hestia left.” She clutched his arm in thanks. “And Hestia has so many uses for each shilling.”

  He stared, feeling the jolt of
her touch vibrate along his spine, down into his heels, with a quick detour to his manhood. “Extra ribbon,” he said in an effort to distract himself. “We should pick that up too.”

  He fell silent as they started back, contemplating how different her life was from his. She was fully engaged with the world around her and so many of the people in it. His world was small, focused, quiet.

  Lonely.

  “The girls were hoping you might attend the audition,” she ventured after a while. “I’ll be there. Especially as I’ll have to miss the opening performance, should they win the parts.”

  “They’ll win. No doubt. Middleton said it would come down to the costumes and you’ve done a marvelous job.” He watched her expression. “Do you have plans for the evening of the opening?”

  “Yes, a ball at Lord Dayle’s. It’s one of the last occasions that will include the visiting foreign dignitaries. My mother is convinced that if I just try I can catch a German prince or a Russian count.”

  “I shouldn’t think you’d have to try,” he said quietly.

  “Thank you, but there’s no need for flattery.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I know it’s my duty to marry well. I shall. And you are right, likely long before you must.” She sighed. “Your words have been on my mind. It would be a very fine thing if even more women became interested in the sciences and astronomy, would it not? It would make it easier for you to find an acceptable potential bride, once you were ready.”

  Suddenly that far off, unsought-after day looked even bleaker.

  “But you know, when the time comes, you might wish to also enter into her interests.” She looked away. “I know I haven’t given up the dream of finding someone who would be interested in helping me better the world.”

  He sat back, feeling some of the ease they felt together slipping away. He didn’t wish to think of her out in Society, looking for a man more compatible with her dreams and plans. And yet, he couldn’t possibly contemplate . . . the alternative.

  “Don’t misunderstand,” she asked. “I enjoy my life in Society. It’s just that there is so much more out there. So much to be done. There are many worthy people in need of help, and so many ways to make life brighter.” Her focus remained on the tiny drops moving across the window. “Shared interests—both ways—must surely make a marriage strong.”

  ‘Your word choice is interesting.” His mood was plummeting as they pulled up to Half Moon House. “I’ve found it hard to judge anyone as worthy—until now.”

  She ducked her head.

  “People are impulsive and often self-serving. I never feel comfortable with most of them. I never feel as if I truly know them. They are so . . . unpredictable.”

  He climbed down as the carriage door opened and turned to assist her. Her eyes were sad as they fixed on his face. For a moment they stared, fully experiencing this shared moment in time and space, knowing it was fleeting and feeling the pain of it. He bent over her hand and pressed a kiss there, feeling the heat of her skin through the kid. “Perhaps you’ll understand why I prefer to spend my time in the company of the stars. They are far more constant. Predictable.”

  Safe.

  He stepped away and bowed. “Goodbye, Miss Tillney. I hope to see you at the audition.”

  Chapter Four

  Jane sternly forbade herself from watching for Lord Worthe. Mr. Middleton had given them excellent seats close to the orchestra pit, just a few rows behind his own seat. She watched him lean over to consult his assistant as the first group stepped onstage. If the viscount hadn’t arrived by now, then he probably wasn’t coming.

  “I’m Athena, goddess of wisdom.” The first girl stepped forward, a heavy book open in her arms.

  “Her dress is very fine, but the rest of them don’t match,” Miss Liberty Baylis, Jane’s friend, whispered in her ear.

  She’d brought Liberty, a young American new to London, to keep her company. Their mothers were becoming fast acquaintances, but Liberty had not had the chance to meet many people as yet. Jane had hopes of recruiting her help for Hestia—and of using her to prevent being too much alone with Lord Worthe.

  Not that it mattered, it turned out.

  “She’d have done better with an owl.” The soft comment came from behind, not beside her, making her jump.

  “Lord Worthe! You frightened me.” It was a fine excuse for her suddenly racing heart.

  “My apologies.”

  When the rest of the group had pronounced themselves and shown off their attire, after Middleton had bent to take notes, the viscount came around into their row and made his bow.

  “My lord, may I present Miss Liberty Baylis? Lord Worthe,” she indicated.

  He took her extended hand. “Liberty? How unusual—”

  “Yes, yes!” Liberty cut him off. “A most unusual name.” She rolled her eyes. “My parents are slightly daft.”

  “Liberty!” Jane laughed, scandalized.

  “It’s the only explanation. And they are lovely, even if they are a bit touched. Whoops!” She turned back to the stage. “Here’s the next set.”

  They were nearly identical to the first, save that Athena had been replaced with a cleverly constructed Medusa.

  “Jane tells me that you are an astronomer, my lord,” Liberty said once the new group had finished too. “How exciting.”

  “I’m afraid it’s rather the opposite.” He looked at Jane as he replied.

  “She says you’ve already discovered an asteroid and are on your way to bigger things. Surely all that will lead to respect and notoriety.” Liberty sparkled up at him and Jane suddenly began to regret bringing her along. “And that will certainly be exciting.”

  Jane wrinkled her nose. “And yet not a substitute for human interaction.”

  Her stomach flopped at the viscount’s suddenly dark expression. Plain speaking was fine, but she feared she’d just gone too far.

  “Perhaps we should talk in the back of the theater, so as not to interfere with the proceedings.”

  He held out a hand but Jane ignored it, popping out of her seat unaided, suddenly intent on having her say. All of her say. “We’ll just be in that back corner, at the start of the boxes,” she told Liberty.

  Her heart raced as she stalked up the aisle. Every nerve tingled in anticipation.

  “Perhaps I spoke out of turn yesterday,” he began.

  “No, I’m afraid I did—and I don’t plan to stop there,” She knew she was being belligerent, but couldn’t stop herself. “The stars account for a fascinating area of study, but they cannot negate the basic need to care and be cared for.” She folded her arms. “And they are not constant.”

  “No,” he agreed. “But they move in established and predictable patterns. It’s reassuring.”

  “Let’s see the last group,” Middleton called.

  “Wait!” Jane clutched at the viscount’s strong arm. “Here they are!”

  The lights dimmed. After a silent moment, the girls moved slowly from the wings. The few high lights left picked out the shining silver in their cloaks. The effect was magical.

  They formed a straight line, diagonal and to the left of center stage. They all peered down at the floor.

  “What folly is this?” Molly asked mournfully.

  “The folly of youth,” Peggy answered.

  “The folly of man,” the Swan announced.

  The viscount touched her hand, where she still held on to him, and sent her a questioning look.

  “They convinced Middleton to give them the lines ahead of time. Oh, surely they will win the day!”

  “Without doubt.”

  “Thanks to you,” she said softly. She turned, but refused to relinquish her grip on him. “You talk about change as if it is a bad thing. You want to study these orbital variations so you can define and explain them.” She waved a hand toward the stage. “Those stars are bright, but in the sky they are incredibly far apart. Alone.”

  He nodded, as if that were the desirable state.
>
  “Don’t you see? Change can be good. You stepped into those girls’ lives a few days ago—and changed them for the better.”

  He looked struck by that simple truth. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “And you couldn’t have predicted it, either. That’s what’s reassuring. It’s the variations in fate and the unpredictability in people that can make life grand.”

  He frowned. “Not all people are worthy, Jane.” He tried to use her words against her.

  She couldn’t let him.

  “No. Some are not. That’s the beauty and purpose of life, I think. We move through the chaos, touching, learning, comparing, testing. And when we find someone who fits with us—we make a connection. A lasting friendship, a partnership.” She blushed. “A romance.”

  She breathed deeply. “Like you see patterns among the stars to make constellations—we’re forging our own constellations down here.” She smiled. “And every connection fuels us. Makes us shine brighter.”

  He looked stunned. Almost sick, as if she’d shot him with another arrow. The girls were leaving the stage now, to applause from Liberty and Middleton. But she was suddenly caught up in Worthe’s arms.

  Renegade pleasure shivered through her as he pulled her close. Space and air between them grew scant—but charged with the heated sting of want. Worthe’s eyes shone a bit wild—and hers closed as he leaned in and captured her mouth. His kiss pressed, demanding. Slightly shocked, but thoroughly thrilled, she kissed him back.

  He gentled, and she reveled in his embrace, marveled at the whimsy of fate that had brought them together, made them such a perfect fit for each other. In this way, too. Her blood was alight. Her hands wandered across hard, unfamiliar planes even as she softened beneath him, inviting, encouraging, asking for more.

  Almost as abruptly as he’d begun, he pulled away. His finger drifted across the bridge of her nose and across her cheek. “There’s something I must do,” he said hoarsely. He gripped her shoulders. “Be ready to attend the opening night.”

  And he was gone.