by Deb Marlowe
Jane Tillney bit her lip, afraid the stranger had hit his head harder than she had thought. She hoped that was it—that he hadn’t been confused to begin with. What a shame that would be in a man so young, so broad of shoulder and lean of hip. She’d felt the hard planes and latent strength of him when she’d pressed to his side. A waste if his mind was not as sound as his body.
The girls had quieted and looked at him with interest.
“Commentary from the heavens, that’s what Middleton said you’d deliver. You don’t have to be Greek gods. You can be constellations.”
Jane’s head lifted.
“What is it?” someone asked.
“Patterns in the sky, made of stars. Some are figures from mythology, like Hercules. Others are the swan, Aquarius, the water bearer, the northern crown . . .”
“It’s brilliant!” Jane was caught up in the idea. “Ladies! Imagine long, rich cloaks of darkest blue, each with a different star pattern shining from it. A headdress of swan feathers on one, a silver crown, an urn . . .”
Excited chatter burst out again.
Beneath that bump lay a mind as sharp as his chiseled jaw, thank God. She looked directly into his dark, brown eyes. “Who are you?”
He rose. Managed a bow with only a bit of a wobble. “William Hampton, Viscount Worthe, at your service.”
Surprise caught her breath, and unease refused to let it go. That letter—she’d wondered if it would be taken badly. Watching his carefully blank expression, she doubted he’d come to thank her.
She pushed all that away, though. Forced a bright smile. “Well, then! You are the perfect person to help us design.” She gestured toward the girls. “Will you lend a hand?”
He kept his gaze fixed on her—and nodded.
“Girls! Fetch paper and ink! We’ve new plans to make!”
Lord Worthe was soon seated in the midst of them all, drawing constellations on a lap desk while she made notes about accessories and tried not to stare.
He didn’t make it easy. The girls were thrilled to have the attention of a dashing nobleman—but his manner toward them looked . . . odd. As if he’d no experience with adoring young women.
Highly unlikely.
She bent back to work. “Silver ribbon, I think, to connect the stars as you’ve done.” She pointed as they finished the last of the patterns. “Girls, spread out. Here’s the list of supplies. Scrounge for everything you can find here, and I’ll see what I can do about the rest.”
They scattered, and Jane was left alone with Lord Worthe.
She took the drawings from him. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, sir. I think your idea will do the trick.” She tilted her head. “Likely I owe you an apology, as well. Yes? If you only wished to thank J. M. Tillney, a letter would have sufficed. Instead you’ve traveled to Town.”
“I wanted to call him out, frankly. Then, perhaps, to question him. To thank him, finally.” He gestured. “I never thought to find . . . this.”
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.”