“Oh, I am so sorry, miss,” Sophia said, her cheeks turning bright red as she looked away from Celeste and out the window instead. “I have been remiss in my duties, and for that, I sincerely apologize. Though I had thought — hoped, perhaps — that you would not be particularly vexed with me?”
She chanced a look at Celeste now, saying much more with her expression than she had with any words.
Celeste skirted around the implication, not wanting to admit to anything that could potentially be returned to her mother.
“Well,” she said cautiously, “As long as you and Woodward are getting along…”
“Oh, we are!” Sophia exclaimed. “We are getting along fabulously, as a matter of fact.”
Celeste nodded. She had seen so with her own eyes. In fact, she had been quite shocked when she and Oliver had discovered that instead of her maid and his butler taking part in rather untoward activities, they were sitting together on the sofa, their hands clasped together, but other than that, they were simply talking — getting to know one another. She could hardly fault the girl, as she and Oliver had been of the same actions, and, in fact, Celeste secretly did welcome the reprieve.
“I am glad to hear it, Sophia,” she said softly. “And not to worry about me.”
“Thank you, Miss Keswick,” she said, and Celeste nodded at her as the carriage rolled up in front of her family’s townhouse.
She took a breath when she saw Nicholas peer out of the window at her, as though he had been waiting. She knew this time had been coming, when he would press her for information. But what was she supposed to say? Nothing had been determined between her and Oliver. There was no understanding besides the fact that they were still coming to know one another. She certainly was not going to provide Nicholas with any information she had gleaned from working for Oliver. And yet… how was she supposed to keep her brother from pestering her?
“Celeste,” he greeted her as she walked in through the door, unable to evade him. “Might I have a word?”
“Very well,” she warily agreed as she followed him into the blue parlor, so named because everything in it was blue, from the walls to the furniture to the paintings. It was her mother’s favorite color, but it was certainly overdone. Fortunately, Celeste no longer noticed the overwhelming color. “What is it?”
“You have been with Essex.”
“I have been working for him, yes,” she amended.
“And?”
“And what?”
“What have you found?”
“Nothing at all, Nicholas,” she said impatiently, though, never a practiced liar, she had to turn to the window to avoid his intense scrutiny. “We have simply been doing various calculations to determine if our hypotheses are at all correct.”
“You are not getting soft on him, are you?” he demanded, and Celeste turned to him with a frown.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s a fine enough looking gentleman, I realize, but Celeste, do not fall for his charms. I’ve seen the way you look at him, with the stars in your eyes rather than in the sky.”
“Oh, Nicholas, you are ridiculous and dramatic,” she sighed with exasperation. “Besides, how would you say you were looking at Lady Venetia?”
“That’s different.”
“How so?”
“Well, when I look at her, as I do most ladies, I am simply… admiring. Not imagining grand weddings and a life together with her.”
“Well, that is even worse!” she said, raising her hands to her sides.
“In what way?”
“Women are worth far more than how they look, Nicholas,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “At least, I should hope there are men out there who think that way.”
“Oh, Celeste, come off it, do not play the injured party. You know you are quite fetching — why, you look like me, so it has to be so,” he said with a chuckle, but she shook her head, refusing to give in to his words.
“What do you think it is we are going to find?” she asked, suddenly curious. Did he come to his suspicions by believing in her work, or had he actually made some progress of his own?
“I’m not entirely sure,” he mused, leaning on the back of the chesterfield, tapping a finger against his lips. “I know you originally thought there to be a planet, but I suppose now that if I had to hazard a guess, it’s that there is something off about Newton’s Law — that when planets are as far away as George’s Star, they don’t follow the same laws.”
“Do you really think that?” she asked, slightly incredulous.
“Well, yes,” he said with a shrug. “What other reason is there?”
“I think you always choose the easy answer,” she said, and he furrowed his eyebrows at her.
“I know you believe there is some perturbance out there, Celeste, but the truth is, I sent you over there to Essex’s to realize how ridiculous that notion was.”
“Ridiculous, is it?” she asked, angry now that he always misjudged her, never providing her the credit that she deserved. “Well, perhaps I have discovered that I am right, Nicholas, what do you think about that?”
“I would think,” he said, victory lighting his eyes, “that you have been keeping secrets from me.”
Belatedly, Celeste realized that she had fallen into his trap, that he had twisted their conversation so that she had told him the very secrets she had vowed to keep from him.
“I am not,” she insisted.
“Come sister, you were never the best liar,” he said gently, and she ground her teeth as she fisted her hands at her sides, angrier at herself than at him for being played as a fool. She apparently had such a brilliant mind, yet she fell into her brother’s traps every time. “We have always been the best of friends, you and I,” he continued. “Will you not choose to play on my team for this one?”
“There is nothing to decide, Nicholas,” she said, peeling her gloves off her hands in an attempt at nonchalance. “I will continue to work for Lord Essex until we make the discovery we are hoping for.”
“And then you will tell me what you have found?”
“I will not. I have told you already, I am not spying for you.”
“And I told you already that I will make known our motives if you do not.”
“You will not. For they are your motives, not mine, and you will look as bad as I.”
“Yes, but I do not overly care. Whereas you, Celeste, with your designs upon the man, will be much more hurt by the dissolution of this arrangement.”
Celeste threw her gloves down upon the coffee table between them.
“Why must you be so despicable at times?” she demanded, and Nicholas merely cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I am merely doing as I told you. I promised you these would be the consequences, Celeste. The better question would be why you agreed to such a thing if you were not willing to follow through?”
“Because,” she said, nearly falling over her words. “I wanted to get a look through his telescope. I told you that.”
He shook his head as he began to walk toward the door. “What did I tell you about lying, Celeste?” he asked. “Now, whatever it is you are keeping from me, go to him, make a copy, and return it to here, do you understand? Then you and I will submit the discovery.”
“Oh, it’s you and I now, is it?” she asked angrily. “I do not recall the two of us ever agreeing to this. You were the one who was going to take all of the glory.”
“Yes, well, I thought it over, and if you are doing all of the work then I suppose I should ensure that you are properly credited,” he said, opening the door. “Well, I have an engagement. Goodbye, Celeste.”
Celeste said nothing, staring after him until he left. Then she sunk down in the chair behind her, placing her head in her hands. For someone who was supposed to be so intelligent, she was behaving quite the idiot. The problem was that she was allowing her heart to rule her mind — something that any good scientist should know not to allow. Perhaps the truth
was that she was not in any way a good scientist, but rather a mediocre one. One who should leave the work to those who knew far better what they were doing.
If only she had told Oliver the truth from the beginning, then perhaps he would have understood. But now, it had been far too long. He would question why she had come to work for him, would wonder if she had only remained his assistant and become close to him in order to take part in his discovery.
Especially after he had broken things off with Venetia for her.
What a mess. The worst part of it now? She couldn’t even talk to Jemima about it all. Not after all she had accused Oliver of.
For a moment her melancholy lifted at the soft patter of feet in the corridor, and she could only smile as her puppy raced through the door to greet her. He must have been out back in the mews, she gathered, for his paws were still dirty, and she cringed when she saw the muddy paw prints that lined the hall.
Celeste had left him at home today, having found that she got nearly nothing accomplished when he accompanied her, despite the amount of joy that he brought with him wherever he went.
Disregarding his messiness, she scooped him up in her arms, burying her nose in his soft fur as he licked her ear. “Oh, Perseus,” she sighed. “If only my own problems were those of a dog — how much easier life would be.”
“Talking to yourself, dear?” Celeste looked up to find her mother had entered the room, staring at her with the dog, one hand on her hip. “You know, I was not particularly pleased when you brought that mongrel home, but I must say, if he makes you this happy, then so be it.”
She absently scratched Perseus’ head as she walked by, and Celeste smiled at her mother. Despite the fact that she could sometimes drive Celeste crazy with her attempts at matching her with an eligible young man, in the end she knew her mother only wanted her to be happy, which was most important of anything, was it not?
“Thank you,” Celeste said, nodding absently.
“Now, tell me,” her mother said, taking a seat across from her, “what has your head in the clouds these days?”
“Mother, I take offense at that,” Celeste returned, albeit jokingly. “My head is far above the clouds.”
Her mother laughed at that, then reached across the table to place a hand over hers. “But seriously, dear, there’s a faraway look in your eye that is not typical. What do you have your mind on?”
“Nothing to be concerned with, Mother,” she said. “Something I am working on, is all.”
“Very well,” her mother said, raising her hands beside her. “But know you can always talk to me, all right?”
“Absolutely,” she said with a smile.
“Oh, and Celeste?”
“Yes?”
“We are attending the theatre tonight, don’t forget.”
“Oh, Mother, must we?”
“Of course,” her mother said, standing now and making her way to the door. “We are fortunate to have the seats we do, and we must be sure to use them.” So that everyone would see them and note that they were able to afford to sit amongst the titled, Celeste added silently. “Be ready in time. And wear the navy dress. You look lovely in it.”
Celeste nodded as Perseus nuzzled into her, though she yelped when he bit her arm while trying to nibble on her sleeve.
“What am I going to do with you?’ she asked him, but his only reply was to lick her on the nose.
She laughed and took a breath before leaving to prepare herself for a performance she had no desire to watch.
18
“I’m just as thrilled to be here as you are, you know,” Nicholas said as he settled himself into the seat next to her.
“You know we do this out of our love for Mother,” Celeste said, to which Nicholas rolled his eyes, although he then sent an affectionate look over toward their mother, where she sat proudly next to her husband.
As much as Celeste would prefer to be elsewhere — most especially next to a certain man and a telescope — she understood how much this meant to her parents, to be able to attend the theatre amongst such company, and so she willingly went along. Besides, she didn’t mind some of the plays, such as that on stage tonight. While she despised the tragedies, she loved a good romance, especially those that ended happily. She could only hope this one did.
When the first act was finished, her brother immediately rose. He was never one to sit still for particularly long periods of time. Celeste followed her parents slightly more slowly as they went to greet acquaintances.
They had just entered the grand saloon when she saw Nicholas slip around the corner, back to the rotunda. Where was he going? Unable to contain her curiosity, she hurried after him, through the rotunda until she came to a corridor leading to additional boxes. Had he seen an acquaintance? Not wanting to spend her time looking through one box after another and embarrassing herself, Celeste shook her head at her own curiosity and began her return to the saloon when she heard Nicholas’ voice and — was that a giggle? She furrowed her brow as she took a step backward, leaning back until she could see around the slightly moving curtain.
“Why Nicholas, how lovely to see you again.”
Celeste could only see the woman’s back, but she was trailing her fingers along the front of Nicholas’ jacket rather suggestively. Nicholas, what are you doing? Celeste inwardly groaned, hoping that, at the very least, he wasn’t seducing an innocent young lady, for she knew Nicholas would have no wish to marry, although their father might have something to say about that.
“We really shouldn’t be here, doing this, you know,” the woman said, and Celeste gasped when she quickly whipped off Nicholas’ cravat.
“Isn’t that what makes it more fun?” Nicholas asked, and Celeste took a step forward, having no desire to watch her brother in such an embrace. “Come here, Venetia.”
Venetia? Celeste had to clap a hand over her mouth at the discovery. Obviously, the woman hadn’t felt much for Oliver if she was so quickly with another man. A strange sense of relief came over her, as Celeste realized that she had been harboring a bit of guilt over the fact that she had been the cause of the dissolution of their relationship. At least now she knew that Venetia was still happy — perhaps she also hadn’t actually wanted the marriage to Oliver.
She only hoped Venetia knew what she was doing with Nicholas. He was adamant that he was not ready to commit — not now or anytime soon. As long as Venetia realized that, then all should be fine.
Or so Celeste hoped.
Nicholas didn’t immediately rejoin the family when they retook their seats for the second act. At the last moment he hurried into their box, sitting next to Celeste as he ran his hands over his hair, likely putting it back in place, she thought with a laugh.
“Did you enjoy the intermission?” Celeste couldn’t help but ask with a smirk and he stared at her as though assessing what she knew.
“It was fine,” he said tersely. “Ran into an old acquaintance.”
“Oh, did you?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Were you able to reconnect?”
Celeste knew she was enjoying his discomfort far too much, but she had such great fun teasing her brother.
“Er—yes,” he said before shushing her. “Now, watch the play, Celeste.”
She did as he said, but couldn’t help the mirth that filled her.
Oliver was on edge.
He had spent the past couple of days so deep in his work that it was difficult to focus on anything else. Celeste had joined him a couple of times, but she was accompanied by her maid on these occasions. He would have to have a talk with Woodward, see what had progressed between the two of them. Oliver had to admit that his butler’s relationship with the woman was proving quite convenient for him.
Oliver knew he should be talking to Venetia and her father, telling them of the decision he had made. But instead he was acting the coward, putting off the visit while he focused on other things.
In his defense, however, his focus was rather necessary.
He had heard rumblings that there were others who were closing in on the same discovery. Others who had come to the same conclusion that there was a perturbance around George’s Star, and were now attempting to determine just what that was. His only hope was that the stars would not align for them as they had him — one of his most important stars being Celeste Keswick. Her mind fascinated him. She was more intelligent than most men he knew, yet how she had achieved such superiority, he had no idea.
And yet, for all of the rational thought she put into what she did, all of the practical calculations, she had a soft, romantic side. Part of it drove him slightly mad, for he wondered if he could ever live up to her expectations, but it was part of who she was. Part of what he loved about her.
Loved?
He dropped his pencil, his mind now completely unfocused from the map he was currently drawing based on their observation. He didn’t love Celeste — he couldn’t. Not yet. He hardly knew her.
And yet…
He thought about her continually. He could hardly wait until he saw her again. When he did, it was nearly impossible to keep himself from touching her, from wanting to take her in his arms and cover her with kisses. Was this what love was? This torture?
If it was, then he was caught in its trap.
“Woodward!” he called, and his butler soon joined him.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Woodward, are you still interested in Miss Keswick’s maid?”
“Sophia?” Woodward asked but then colored. “Ah… yes, my lord.”
“Very good,” Oliver said. “Miss Keswick and I must see the stars from a particular point tonight, and I am sure her maid will accompany her. Perhaps the two of you might like to have an evening of your own together?”
“Of… our own?” he asked, obviously confused. Oliver took a breath.
“You may have time to yourself tonight if you should like to entertain—Sophia, was it? Take her for a walk if you’d like, or have a meal together. Whatever suits your fancy.”
A sudden realization dawned on Woodward’s face.
Discovering the Baron (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 3) Page 12
