“Ah, Lady Anne,” Barclay said as he approached from the vestibule. He held out a pasteboard card. “The roses came for you while you were with your brother. I took the liberty of putting them in the vase with some water,” he explained.
Anne blinked as she took the card from him.
Viscount Hexham’s calling card.
On the back, he had written, You were right. There are no restrictions when it comes to the colors of roses.
The butler bowed and disappeared as Anne continued to stare at the roses, her heart rate increasing as the exciting words she had overheard just a moment ago replayed in her head. And she would have played them again except that a shadow fell over her, and then her view of the roses was replaced by the body of her father.
“Oh, how do, Father?” she asked as she looked up.
Gabriel Wellingham, Earl of Trenton, gazed down on his only daughter and then crossed his arms. “Pray tell, just how long have you been sitting here in the hall?”
Anne angled her head to one side. “No longer than a half-hour, I should think,” she replied with a shrug.
“So.... long enough to hear every word Viscount Hexham just said before he left my study?” he half-asked.
A dreamy expression replaced her quizzical one. “Oh, indeed,” she replied. She stood up and wrapped her arms around her Father’s shoulders. “Thank you, Father,” she whispered.
Startled, Trenton wrapped his arms around her waist and allowed a sigh. “You weren’t meant to hear those words just yet,” he said, one hand rubbing her back.
“Oh, but they were such welcome words,” she replied, deciding not to tell him about her conversation with Hexham in the park. About the proposal Hexham had put voice to as snow danced around them.
The one she had already accepted.
“And you were right.”
“I was right?” Trenton straightened in her hold. “I was right? We shall have to mark this date on the calendar as an auspicious occasion,” he remarked. He dramatically moved a hand through the air. “Lord Trenton. Right about something,” he added in a deeper voice, his tongue firmly in his cheek.
Anne giggled. “I will not change my mind.”
“What if at this dinner party you happen to meet another man of your dreams?” her father asked in a quiet voice. “Someone else who would make an even more perfect husband than Hexham?”
Grinning, Anne shook her head. “Hexham is the only man I think about,” she murmured.
Trenton inhaled. “What if something should happen to Hexham?”
“Happen?”
He shook his head. “Say... a horse steps on his face and he’s forever disfigured.”
“What an awful thing to say!” she replied as she stepped out of his hold.
“He’ll no longer be gorgeous, I think is the way you described him,” Trenton remarked. “What then?”
Furrowing a brow, Anne understood what he was trying to do. Her father probably thought she hadn’t learned enough about the future earl to warrant marrying the man so soon.
She considered the question a moment before she said, “No matter how he looks, I will find beauty in the roses he gives me.” She pointed to the vase of roses on the opposite side of the hall. “He will still be able to waltz, and escort me to the theatre. Our children will still be blond-haired, blue-eyed cherubs. And I will always remember what he looked like when he took me for that ride in the park.”
Trenton nodded and then dipped his head. “Very well. You should know I have given him my permission to ask for your hand,” he said, even though he was sure she already knew.
A bright smile appeared. “Now that I know he really wishes to marry me, I think I shall request we do so quickly. I should like to have a baby in the next year. Do you think Mother will be vexed if we married before Christmas?”
Trenton stared down at his daughter a moment, his expression turning to one of horror. Only moments ago, he had encouraged Hexham to consider a quick wedding so that there would be time for a wedding trip before Parliament resumed in March. But now the thought of his daughter getting married—definitely before Christmas—had him thinking twice about his decision. “Will you two be bound for Gretna Green?”
Anne allowed a giggle. “I think not,” she replied. “Besides, I don’t believe a train goes there just yet.”
Trenton pretended immense relief, which wasn’t difficult.
“Will Mother be upset if we marry soon?” she asked again.
“Possibly,” he hedged. “Yes,” he amended. “You barely have time for the reading of the banns, although I suppose Hexham can afford a special license.”
She allowed a prim smile. “I know. I would dearly love a Christmas wedding.” Her smile broadened. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”
Furrowing his brows, Trenton gave a slight shake of his head. “You are your mother’s only daughter. Do not deprive her of a proper wedding,” he warned.
Sobering, Anne angled her head. “I will not,” she said on a sigh. Remembering Gabe’s intention to speak with their father about this very topic, she added, “Gabe thinks he knows something.”
Trenton’s brows arched. “Oh? I should hope he knows much, given he has completed his studies at university,” he teased.
Anne rolled her eyes. “About this, I mean. About Hexham. About his intent to marry me.”
Eyes darted sideways, Trenton remembered how he had unintentionally eavesdropped on their conversation a few nights ago. Of course, Gabe knew. Wasn’t he the one who had told Hexham about Anne’s interest in the viscount in the first place?
“I’d rather he not know about the wedding until after the dinner party,” Anne said in a quiet voice. “I should hate word to get out before Hexham is ready to announce anything.”
“I should hate that word gets out before Hexham has an opportunity to even propose,” Trenton countered.
Anne’s eyes widened. “That, too.”
Trenton allowed a chuckle. “I will fend off his inquiries,” he promised. “And hope that he soon learns first-hand how confusing and delightful loving a woman can be.”
“Loving?” she repeated in a whisper.
Her father angled his head to one side. “I would not allow Hexham your hand in marriage if he did not at least feel affection for you.”
Anne remembered Hexham’s kisses in the park, and she allowed a wan smile. She hoped Hexham wouldn’t find her confusing.
Delightful, yes.
When Gabe appeared at the bottom of the stairs, he regarded his sister and father with a look of anticipation. “So... am I going to gain a brother very soon?”
Trenton lifted his head and pretended ignorance. “I thought perhaps you were going to tell us that I was gaining a daughter and she was gaining a sister,” he replied.
Gabe’s eyes widened. “But... but I’m not courting anyone,” he responded, thoughts of his sister and Hexham evaporating.
“Perhaps you’ll find someone at the museum,” Anne murmured. “Someone exotic, like a mummy from Egypt,” she teased. “Or that statue of Venus.”
She managed to make it to the stairs before Gabe could form an appropriate response.
“Delightful, isn’t she?” Trenton asked with a grin. “You’ll have to pardon me. I need to go dress for dinner.”
Gabe gave a sound of disbelief as he watched the earl head up the stairs.
He hated being left confused.
Chapter 32
A Knight’s Secret is Revealed
Friday, December 1, 1837, Worthington House
“Are you nervous?” George asked. He had appeared as if from nowhere as a reflection in the sideboard mirror, leaning against the dining room’s door jamb.
Angelica turned to regard her brother, a blonde eyebrow arching when she noted he had finally changed for dinner. His black evening clothes and snowy white cravat did little for his fair complexion, but his waistcoat, a bright red tapestry with gold metallic embroidery, helped counter the stark e
ffect.
Angelica had spent the afternoon being primped and poked by her lady’s maid, the result of which was an elegant hairstyle with enough pins to keep every hair in place even if gale force winds swept through Worthington House.
The white silk gown she wore made her appear the epitome of her name. “Not for the reason you’re thinking,” she finally replied as she surveyed the place settings in the dining room.
With only ten guests and the two of them, she had opted to use the smaller Chippendale table and matching chairs for that night’s dinner party. A few additional chairs lined one of the long walls in the event some chaperoning maids ended up with them as opposed to joining the other servants in their dining room.
“I thought to speak with you about one of our guests,” George murmured as he unfolded the list that Angelica had given him the day before.
Stiffening, Angelica straightened from where she had set out place cards for Lady Anne, Ben Fulton, and Cousin Thomas. “Oh, dear. Has someone sent their regrets?”
“Nothing like that,” he said with a shake of his head. He pointed to the name ‘Ben Fulton’.
Before he had a chance to ask, Angelica said, “He’s our new neighbor.” She went about setting out additional place cards for the Ladies Davida and Diana Fitzwilliam, Cousin Emily, Alexander Tennison, Gabe Wellingham, David Bennett-Jones, and Mark Comber, all while attempting an attitude of nonchalance. “Lives in Bradford Hall.”
George blinked. He folded the list and slid it into one pocket before extracting two notes from another pocket. “Have you met him?” he asked as he unfolded the missives and compared them side by side. He allowed the notes to refold of their own accord and replaced them in his topcoat pocket.
Angelica inhaled slowly, deciding it best she tell him the truth. “I have had the pleasure, yes,” she said, a frisson passing through her entire body as she remembered Ben’s kisses. Despite knowing her face displayed her sudden blush, she rather liked the momentary warmth it provided. The fire had just been set in the fireplace, and the dining room was still chilly. “In his observatory.”
Nodding, George appeared about to take his leave of the dining room, but then he paused. “Did he show you his telescope?”
Had she something solid to throw at him—other than one of the crystal glasses on the table—she would have done so just then. Instead she took another slow breath and said, “Why, yes. Yes, he did. And he let me look through it. Showed me Venus, and the moon. The Orion Nebula, and the Beehive Cluster, and the Andromeda Galaxy.”
George blinked again. “That must have been fascinating,” he remarked.
“It was. They were beautiful. As is he.”
Brows furrowed. “He is?”
“He is. And he’s interesting and quite the gentleman. I kissed him.”
“Really?” George’s simple response gave no indication as to whether or not he was shocked by her revelation, which only emboldened her more.
“Several times. And he kissed me. There was mistletoe, of course.”
“Of course,” George said, for lack of a better response.
“He’s written to Father to ask if he can court me. If he asks for my hand in marriage, I will agree, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t care that he’s a commoner.”
The strangest expression appeared on George’s face just then, but he quickly sobered when it was apparent guests were arriving. “Well, I suppose I should go meet my future brother,” he said, and then ducked out of the dining room lest she throw anything at him.
Angelica stared after him, her mouth half-open in wonder.
Ben surrendered his top hat and greatcoat to a footman, greeting the other dinner guests that had arrived at the same time as he did. As the younger brother of an earl, he knew a few from their names but recognized only Alexander Tennison—he was a member of the Royal Society—and Thomas Grandby, because the two had attended Eton at the same time.
Not wanting to be first, he had watched the arrivals from one of the front windows in Bradford Hall and then taken his leave when several well-dressed young men departed a series of town coaches emblazoned with gold crests. By the time he was making his way up to the mansion’s front door, the giggles of several young ladies joined the merriment.
There was a thought that the next few minutes might be the most awkward of his life. He had never met his host, and, therefore, he shouldn’t have met his hostess.
Met her, or been in her company in the dark of the night, or kissed her quite thoroughly—mistletoe or not.
Following the butler, he emerged from the vestibule into the great hall and was immediately struck by the elegance of Worthington House. A round table, graced with a vase of red and white roses, suggested the lady of the house had already begun thinking of the upcoming holiday.
Christmas.
Ben imagined Angelica carrying a bouquet of those very flowers for their wedding. She would look stunning in a white silk gown, carrying red roses, her long hair caught up in an elegant chignon.
His hand went to his waistcoat pocket, sliding over the fabric in search of the gold band topped with sapphire and citrine gemstones he had purchased in Ludgate Hill earlier that day.
Satisfied it was still there, he allowed his gaze to settle on the woman who had just emerged from the dining room and was making her way to the ground floor parlor.
He was sure she blushed when she caught sight of him, and then he wondered how she could have known what he imagined she’d be wearing for their wedding.
He nearly cursed himself for not having paid a call on the Archbishop of Canterbury in Doctors’ Commons to secure a special license. They could be married wherever and whenever they wished. His brother would complain bitterly about the cost, though.
Instead, he had purchased the simple marriage license from a clergyman at St. George’s with the stipulation he use it within fifteen days.
He couldn’t imagine what else might be involved. Well, a willing bride, but he was quite sure she would agree to be his wife, especially when she learned the truth about him.
Ben gave a shake of his head, not wanting to appear as if he was daydreaming. The butler stood aside when they reached the parlor doors, but Ben paused just beyond the threshold, turning to see that Angelica was making her way in his direction. A brilliant smile appeared at the very moment three young women suddenly stepped in front of her, and George Grandby stepped in front of him.
“Good evening. Would you be Sir Benjamin?” George asked in a quiet voice as he held out his right hand.
Ben stiffened, a thought that George’s hand would soon form a fist and find its way to his jaw. “I am. How do you do? Hexham, is it not?” he replied, giving George’s hand a firm shake.
“George Grandby,” his host acknowledged. “Apologies for not having made your acquaintance sooner. My sister tells me you’ve taken over Bradford Hall.” He motioned that they should move farther into the room, where one footman was serving coffee while another held out a plate of walnuts.
Relaxing a bit, Ben nodded. “My brother—Wadsworth— saw to buying up some of the baron’s vowels, and as a result, he ended up with the house,” he explained. “He had no need of it, and I was in the market for a home here in town, so I agreed to take it on.”
George nodded his understanding. “So, you’ll be keeping it?”
Ben angled his head to one side as he accepted a cup of coffee from a footman. “I will. Which is why I saw to having the observatory built. Astronomy is my avocation, you see.”
“Congratulations on discovering that comet,” George said as he took a cup of coffee.
Ben gave a start. “You know about that?”
“News does reach Northumberland,” George replied with a grin. “My father insists on reading The Times every morning, even if the issue might be a week old.”
“Thank you. The discovery made it possible for me to finally gain admission into the Royal Society,” Ben e
xplained.
Not having any knowledge of the scientific organization, George merely nodded. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Are you in receipt of a letter from my father, Torrington, perhaps?”
Once again, Ben stiffened. “I am. So... you’re aware of his... proposal?”
George nodded. “It seems your brother and my father have been plotting with one another, at your expense.”
Furrowing a brow, Ben was about to counter the comment. “To say that I was surprised would be an understatement,” he offered. “I had never thought to make a suitable match for reasons of inheritance.” Then he frowned even more. “Why do you think it at my expense?”
George arched a brow. “Surely, at your age, you already had someone in mind to take to wife.”
Ben dipped his head. “Truth be told, I had not thought of marriage until I received Torrington’s letter.”
George gave him a suspicious glance. “Why ever not?”
Not exactly sure he wanted to admit the reason for his continued bachelor status, Ben leaned in and said, “The Wadsworth earldom hasn’t exactly been a boon when it comes to wealth, and apparently it would be unseemly for me to work. Without the means to support a wife, I hardly think I should consider marriage.”
George nodded his understanding. “Then you will rely on Angelica’s dowry to make your living.”
Ben dipped his head again, not at all pleased with where the conservation was going. “If I am to marry her, then I’m afraid that is the case,” he admitted.
“You would not be the first to rely on a wife’s dowry to make your way in life,” George said, sotto voce. He glanced around, finding Alexander, Mark, and Gabe joined in raucous conversation. “And given my father’s position on the matter, I hardly think I need to interfere.”
Hoping his embarrassment wasn’t apparent, Ben said, “You would be within your rights to call me out. I admit to having kissed your sister, but I assure you, I have done nothing more.”
George rolled his eyes. “A duel is out of the question. I’m a terrible shot, and worse with a sword,” he said as laughter once again erupted from the group of three young men. “Pardon me. I need to greet my other guests.”
The Angel of an Astronomer Page 19