by Olivia Waite
She couldn’t wait to begin.
Lucy’s inner glow of satisfaction lasted nearly an entire day—which was quite long, in her experience. But, as always, the ethereal feelings faded as mundane reality reasserted itself. She was left with the itching, irrepressible question: What on earth was she going to do next?
Translate the next volume and send it to the marquise, obviously—but what had once seemed bold and challenging now felt . . . routine. Her energies were expanding to meet the scope of the work she chose—which was good, obviously, because it meant she was making progress. But it also meant Lucy had to cast about now for something new to aim for.
Catherine—beautiful, quiet, stalwart Catherine, whose pride and love shone out undimmed every time she looked at Lucy—turned out to have something already planned. She and Lucy left Aunt Kelmarsh dozing comfortably in the parlor—helped along no doubt by the splash of brandy she’d taken in her tea—and made their way to the library.
Lucy expected Catherine would take out her silks or her sketchbook, but instead she brought out a sheaf of papers from her writing desk and sat down on the sofa in a very formal, expectant kind of way. “I have a proposal to make to you.”
Lucy’s heart leaped before good sense reasserted itself. The countess couldn’t have meant that kind of proposal, obviously. “Please,” she said instead.
Catherine bit her lip, and Lucy realized with a small shock that the countess was nervous. More nervous than Lucy had seen her since perhaps that first kiss.
Lucy’s spine straightened in anticipation, and she leaned forward in the stiff wooden library chair.
Finally, the countess spoke. “I’ve been writing to the women from Polite Philosophies.”
“Which women?”
Catherine smiled. “All of them.”
Lucy was thunderstruck.
“Well, all of the ones we could find, anyway. Many of them wrote back—some to tell me they were done with that part of their life, but others to tell me quite eagerly what they’d been working on since then. And there’s so much work! Chemistry, astronomy, botany—a great deal of botany, it’s astonishing—but every field of natural science is represented, more or less. And they often know other women who are doing similar things in small corners of the country. Writing books to educate children, running small experiments, collecting and cataloging samples, that kind of thing. I’ve compiled rather a long list of names in the past few months, and no doubt there are many more to be found . . .” She caught herself, coughed, and smiled wryly. “I may be straying from the topic.”
“Yes,” Lucy agreed, marveling. “What are you proposing, exactly?”
“A fund,” Catherine said, and grinned a little at the way Lucy’s jaw dropped. “A rather substantial fund, administered by you and me, for the purposes of publishing women’s writing on the natural sciences. We would partner with Griffin’s, solicit women of science to be authors, and arrange to have them checked thoroughly for accuracy before offering them to the public.”
“That . . .” Lucy had to swallow against a dry throat. “That sounds like an immense amount of work.”
“Oh, it will be, I assure you. It will tie us together legally, and financially, and probably take us the rest of our lives to accomplish.” She bit her lip again, looking down at the papers in her hand. “It is really a very long list of names.”
Lucy slipped out of the hard chair and went to her knees on the library rug. Her hands closed over Catherine’s, letters rustling a protest between their fingers. Lucy didn’t care. She couldn’t take her eyes off the countess’s face—because Catherine was blushing, was laughing silently, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
For once, Lucy wasn’t the one crying—because she was too blissfully, incredibly happy to cry. “Catherine,” she breathed. “Ask me truly.”
Catherine looked up, her face shining with hope and love and joy. “I am asking you to stay with me for the rest of our lives. I am asking you to join me in making this world a better place, insofar as we are able. We cannot stand up in a church and make vows—but we can stand up, publicly, and declare that we are important. Together.” Lucy’s breath caught in a hiccup, as Catherine raised one hand and cupped her cheek. “I love you, Lucy Muchelney. I always will.”
How could Lucy not kiss her, at such a moment? Their lips were smiling too wide to melt together properly, and she could taste the salt from Catherine’s tears as they finally slipped down her cheeks. “I love you, Catherine St. Day,” she said. “I’m yours.”
“So you’ll do it?” Catherine’s eagerness was half embarrassed. “You like the idea?”
“I think it’s perfect,” Lucy said, “with one emendation.”
Catherine braced herself.
Lucy’s voice turned sly. “We should include illustrations by women artists as well. Commissioned engravings, portraits, diagrams, historical scenes. Embroidery designs.”
“Oh.” It was just one soft syllable, barely more than a breath, but it rang in the air as though it contained the whole world.
Lucy had thought Catherine couldn’t look any happier—but now she looked luminous, radiant. As though a new sun had burst into being somewhere inside her. “You are brilliant, Lucy Muchelney, and that’s the truth.”
Lucy allowed herself one more kiss, then pulled Catherine to her feet. Being at the beginning of a project brought a rush of elation, swelling within her like a tide. Time was short: no point in wasting it. With her beloved’s hands still clasped in hers, Lucy asked: “Where do we start?”
Acknowledgments
There are so many people to thank for their part in the creation of this most unlikely book. First, my gratitude goes to Cathy Pegau, whose bisexual con artist heroine in space helped me recognize a part of myself I hadn’t been able to see clearly before. (Hint: it’s not the con artist part.) Rose Lerner’s feedback on an early draft of this manuscript was invaluable, and I stand in awe of her clarity of vision and undiluted genius for story and character fixes. My editor, Tessa Woodward, and the entire Avon Books team have been marvelously patient with an author used to flying solo. My agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan, combines steely authority with expert reassurance in the best possible balance.
My family—especially my mother, my sister, and my grandfather—have been unfailing in their love and support on what has been at times a puzzling sort of journey. I am lucky to have them and I know it.
Every writer should have so trusty a sidekick as Elwood the mini-dachshund, who is there every writing day to insist I sit in the well-lit chair by the window and do not move for several hours, please. His selflessness is an inspiration to us all.
Lastly, and always, there is my husband, Charles: the truest soul I know, whom I am honored to share a life with, and whom I love more with every day and every new revelation.
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About the Author
OLIVIA WAITE is a former bookseller and Jeopardy! champion who writes historical romance, fantasy, science fiction, and essays. She is the Kissing Books columnist for the Seattle Review of Books, where she reviews romance both new and old with an emphasis on insightful criticism and genre history. She lives in Seattle with her husband and their stalwart mini-dachshund.
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE LADY’S GUIDE TO CELESTIAL MECHANICS. Copyright © 2019 by Olivia Waite. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexcl
usive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition JUNE 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-293178-8
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-293179-5
Cover design by Patricia Barrow
Cover illustrations by Christine Ruhnke
Cover photographs © Romance Novel Covers
Avon Impulse and the Avon Impulse logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America.
Avon and HarperCollins are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
FIRST EDITION
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Acknowledgments
Announcement page to the Feminine Pursuits Series
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
