A Hint of Starlight

by Connolly, Lynne

  “Why should you, sir? Indeed, I worked very hard to keep my identity secret.”

  “To have an interest in astronomy is one thing, but you show far more than an interest. You are gifted, if I may say so. Your observations are precise and your conclusions interesting.”

  “I’ve done more work,” she said shyly. She wasn’t used to receiving praise for her work. Tolerance, yes, and encouragement, but not from someone who understood what she was doing. It meant more to her than she could say. Her anger faded. Perhaps he understood her, after all. That he believed her salved her sore sensibilities.

  He slowed the horses. “Walk with me,” he said abruptly.

  They had reached the end of the path. Most people merely took the course back and then went home. Because of the rains earlier that day, not many people frequented the smaller paths that led from Rotten Row. “Is it safe?”

  “I’ll keep you safe.” The promise sounded more than it meant. He would stop her sliding on the grass, that was all. She was wearing a fine new pair of riding boots, and her skirt was ankle length. Of course she would manage.

  She passed his comment off with a light laugh, but she agreed, and once more the groom took charge of the carriage. She placed her hand on his arm again, and felt the strength of the man beneath the fine wool and linen. He towered over her, and did nothing to diminish his height. His highly polished boots had heels, as riding boots should, which made him even taller. He did, however, make an effort to match his stride to hers.

  They took half a dozen paces along a small path leading to a group of trees before he spoke. “I wanted the privacy to talk to you properly. First, I apologize for my carelessness on the night of the ball. A lady who considers herself my future bride in all but name saw us come back.”

  Her suspicions rose, but she needed confirmation. “Knowing your enemy is better. I appreciate that you might not want to tell me about Lady Elizabeth. The lady already holds a grudge against our family, for reasons you might already know.”

  “It is hard not to.” He paused. “I believe she is behind the cartoon that caused you so much distress.”

  Now that she thought about it, the information did not surprise her. “My brother jilted her. He did it kindly, did not let anyone know he had done so, and we didn’t gossip. He fell in love with Annie, you see. He thought they would let it be known that they did not suit, and parted by mutual consent. However, she told people he was not good enough for her, and declared her intention of finding a duke.”

  “I know that part,” he said with a grimace.

  She shot a glance up at his face. “Of course.”

  “I have no mind to indulge her.”

  They walked in silence for a few paces, which gave Damaris time to collect her thoughts. Lady Elizabeth’s campaign was proving as effective as King George leading the troops at Dettingen. Her ladyship had the superior forces and experience. For all that, Damaris determined she would not win.

  “What do you want?”

  “To meet and talk to people about my work.” She wanted more than that. She wanted to belong.

  Damaris had never belonged anywhere. Even in her family she was an anomaly. She had nobody who would understand her work, and more than anything else she wanted that. “When I sent my first article in to the Society, it was in the nature of a test. I didn’t know if what I was doing had any merit. I didn’t know anyone who would understand.”

  The grass was higher here, in the shade of the trees, and the morning dew was slower to dissipate. The hem of her gown was sucking up the drops of liquid in the greenery, so it weighted her skirt. She should lift it, or move out of the shade, but she had a strange inclination to stay where she was.

  He had walked her into the depths of the trees, so the shade of the newly grown foliage shielded her from the sun. The intimacy between them was magnified here, as if they were alone. He had a positive gift for finding secluded spots in the midst of the throng of society.

  As if he couldn’t help himself, he lifted his gloved hand and touched her chin with the tips of his fingers. “The Royal Society should have listened to you. I found your pieces fascinating. I’d have loved the opportunity to work with you.”

  She wet her lips, not realizing what she was doing until she saw his eyelids lower as he followed the action. “You do not mean that. My work is ordinary.”

  His thick, black lashes flicked up and he met her gaze once more. “You have a facility for seeing the patterns behind the numbers. That is a gift I would prize, if I had it.”

  “I wasn’t aware the ability was rare.” She could not look away. His eyes were completely brown, with no flecks of other colors to lighten them. This close, she imagined she could detect any change in him.

  “It is very rare.” He moved closer, but she did not budge.

  Here was her chance. She had to force herself to say it. She wanted—she didn’t know precisely what she wanted, but a flash of heat surged through her. “I decided to come with you today because you are good for me and my sisters, but I was still angry with you. I am not angry now. I accept your apology.”

  She didn’t know what she felt now. His proximity was driving her senses to a place she didn’t recognize.

  He touched her chin, turning her to face him. Their gazes met, so close she saw the solidity of his velvet-brown eyes and the slightly darker rim around the irises.

  “Let us make a bargain. I want to be rid of Lady Elizabeth, and you must want something I can give you. What you require in return is up to you. I will court you for what remains of the season. Not so much that society will consider us a settled couple, but enough to make people look. As you are so fond of reminding me, I am a duke, and where I lead, others follow. In return, you will stand as a shield maiden between Lady Elizabeth and me. Will that serve your purpose?”

  Her head spun. Was he serious? Or did he have some other reason?

  “What? You’re a duke. You can have anyone you want. Surely you can dispense with Lady Elizabeth without my help.”

  He lifted his shoulders in the vestige of a shrug. “Not without causing offense to the Illingworths.”

  “And you don’t want to marry her?”

  “No.” He studied her. “I want to choose my own bride, and I am not looking for romance in marriage. Does that disturb you?”

  “Why should it?” She echoed his shrug. “I want much the same thing. My passion is my study, so I will need a husband who will allow me to indulge my interest. Not one who will use my studies for his own interests.”

  “You think I would do that?” He moved away slightly, and his mouth flattened.

  “Not at all, but then we are not talking about my marrying you, are we? Why would you want to marry a woman of vulgar origins, who has shunned society until she was an old maid?” Her mouth twisted. That was the truth of what she was. “Once I have obtained my desire, then I will retire to respectable spinsterhood.”

  “I don’t think you will make a respectable spinster. Far too lively.” His face relaxed into that expression she found most seductive, of smiling interest. “So what is your desire? Will you tell me?”

  Chapter Five

  Lady Damaris’ lip twisted, making Logan want to kiss her again. “I want to be a member of the Royal Society, and I want to have access to the Observatory at Greenwich.” He’d asked her what she wanted.

  “Is that all?” His voice rang with disbelief. “The first I cannot promise you. The second I might be able to help you with.”

  “You’re a member of the committee,” she pointed out.

  “But I’m not the only member. They will not admit you,” he said softly. “I will not promise something that I can’t achieve, or at least try to achieve.”

  Even if it cost him their friendship, he wouldn’t lie to her. “The other matter, I can help you with. I can arrange for you to visit the Observatory.”

  He saw her response in her eyes. That had thrilled her more than anything they’d done so fa
r.

  But doubt followed. “I would not want to be labeled a jilt,” she said.

  “Of course not.” He smiled. He leaned over her, resting his hand on the trunk of the tree behind them. Her blue eyes held cynicism, but he detected a trace of amusement, too, a sentiment he shared. “We can lead society on a wild dance for the rest of the season, my lady.”

  If he had not been so close, he wouldn’t have seen her responsive shiver. He had an effect on her. He already knew that, as Lady Damaris was charmingly unspoiled, not used to hiding her emotions. “I don’t think a wild dance will gain me the respectability I need. Lady Elizabeth hates us already, so I see no change there. But the rest of society—I don’t want to let my sisters down.”

  “As long as we don’t step outside the rules, we are safe. At the end of the season, we may allow the courtship to die a slow death. Just fade away. There will be no jilting.” And he would be home, because sure as chickens laid eggs he wasn’t doing this again. The next time he came to town, he would be respectably leg-shackled to some amenable female. That was his idea of a perfect marriage, he asserted to himself, although a warning pinged at the back of his mind. Was he really sure about that?

  His response to Damaris was too strong, too unguarded for his comfort. But he could enjoy an agreeable flirtation, and perhaps snatch a few more kisses along the way. As long as he remained respectful and at a distance. Society would understand that his interest in Lady Elizabeth was not exclusive. He might be labeled a flirt, but he could live with that. In any case, that kind of reputation would put Lady Damaris in the right, which she needed more than he did.

  “I don’t think so, your grace.” Before his delighted eyes, she starched up. She might take a little more persuasion. He wasn’t averse to that. My, but he enjoyed that response in her. She resembled a bird with ruffled feathers, restoring itself to respectability. Her gown pressed against his breeches, her quilted petticoat allowing him this proximity. He liked Damaris in a carriage-gown. “You wanted to be seen with me. Well, you may have your wish.”

  “I merely wanted you to take me about a little.” A brittle laugh escaped her plump lips. “Not courtship, sir, but a small flirtation.”

  Ah, she had let him in. He would take that. “Very well. A small flirtation.”

  Leaning closer, he let his eyes half-close, but watched her as she wet her lips and then tensed.

  A crystal clear voice rang through the clearing, shattering their intimacy. “Dear me, it’s the duke. I have been looking for you, sir. I mean to ask you a particular question…” The voice changed, gained a note of careful uncertainty. “Am I interrupting?”

  Without taking his eyes from Damaris he replied, “Not at all,” and dropped to one knee before her, reaching under Damaris’ soaked skirt to touch her ankle. “Lady Damaris stumbled, and I advised her to lean against the tree until she regained her footing.”

  “It is treacherous underfoot.” The owner of the voice came closer. Logan let himself look up, meeting the icy blue gaze of Lady Elizabeth Askew. Now there was a cold piece.

  Lady Elizabeth tutted. “New boots, too. Did you get your maid to roughen the soles?”

  “Yes, my lady, but as you say, the ground is slippery. I had not realized it would be so difficult to keep my footing.” Damaris’ voice shook very slightly. She was trying not to laugh, damn her. He was saving her respectability and getting his breeches muddy and drenched in the process. No doubt his coat had wicked up enough wetness to weigh him down to a slow crawl. Logan got to his feet, sensing the heavier weight he was carrying, but he knew better than to brush the mud from his knee. That would only make it worse. He had spent most of his summers in Scotland, after all, so he knew how to deal with mud.

  When he offered his arm, his charming companion laid her hand on it much more readily than she had before. That pleased him. He was breaking through her reserve, and behaving more naturally with him.

  “Will you attend the Mercier ball this evening?”

  Deliberately, he addressed Damaris. “Do you intend to go?”

  “I—no, I do not think so. Our invitations must have been mislaid.”

  Lady Elizabeth pouted. “Oh, that is a shame. You will no doubt be eager to assert your presence after that unfortunate caricature today.” She paused. “Actually, that was probably the reason you did not receive an invitation.”

  Damaris’ hand tightened on Logan’s arm, and he had to fight to prevent himself covering it with his. Lady Elizabeth wouldn’t appreciate it, and she’d probably vent her spite on the next person she met. “Oh, that,” Damaris said with a dismissive shrug. “I heard you had not truly arrived in society until you had a cartoon dedicated to you.” Her smile was tight, but it covered any distress she might be feeling.

  He was proud of her.

  “I saw Lady Levington the other day,” Lady Elizabeth said. “Do you remember her? She was Miss Cartwright. She took society by storm then ruined it by marrying a mere baronet. A clergyman, no less.”

  “I remember her,” Logan said, noncommitally. He’d liked Miss Cartwright, glad when her parents had allowed her to follow her heart. But that was not why Lady Elizabeth had brought her up. Damaris could never have met her.

  When Damaris would have broken away, he kept her close, hugging her arm to his side.

  “Since we won’t be seeing Lady Damaris at the ball, I assume you will not lack for partners. But Mama says she expects us to take the floor.” Lady Elizabeth frowned. “You know how she can get. But she did say she would love you to attend our musicale next week.” She spared Damaris a glance. Damaris was staring straight ahead with her nose in the air. “A select gathering, but we expect Maria Cocozza to appear and give us a few arias.”

  “Mary Cooper has done very well for herself,” Damaris commented, seemingly into thin air, “especially after she changed her name. She used to sing in our church every Sunday.”

  Nothing loath, Lady Elizabeth surged into play. “The one in St. Giles?”

  “Shoreditch.” Damaris remained calm, showing no response to Lady Elizabeth’s snub, mentioning the notorious rookery instead of the respectable area she’d once lived in. “Miss Cooper lived close to us at one point, before she went into the keeping of a duke. Her voice was divine. Remember me to her, would you?”

  A beautiful riposte.

  The distance to the carriage appeared much longer than when they had arrived. They waded through the grass until they reached the path, Lady Elizabeth chattering like a magpie, not giving Damaris a chance to get another word in.

  For the first time, he wondered about Lady Elizabeth Askew. Her setbacks had made her more determined, but if not for her spitefulness, which could be born of fear and anger, he would be sympathetic. Not sympathetic enough to provide her with a ducal husband.

  Lady Elizabeth chattered about Lady this and that, trying to draw him in to the private club she assumed they both belonged to. Trying to cut Damaris out, like a dog cutting a sheep away from the flock. Damaris remained silent as Lady Elizabeth entered her full flow. She had made her point. He spared her a glance. She knew what was happening.

  At last, they reached the place where his groom waited with the carriage, and Lady Elizabeth’s man waited with her mount.

  “Oh, would you mind…?” Lady Elizabeth made a helpless gesture to her horse. “I’m afraid if my groom releases my mare’s head, she will make a bolt for it. Not everybody can handle such a frisky animal, but I am determined to tame her.”

  With a regretful shrug, he left Damaris next to the carriage and went to toss Lady Elizabeth into the saddle. She was, of course, graceful. Her disdainful glance at Damaris said more than words, especially since he was not meant to see it. Wheeling her horse around, she set her horse into a trot, then a canter, heading back towards the gate. That mare was no more frisky than she was.

  By the time he returned to his curricle, Damaris was sitting in her place. Her skirts were wet to the knee, the dark color a vivid demons
tration of her discomfort. Disappointment dropped his stomach. He’d wanted to help her up there himself, but she had been too quick for him. He wanted to touch her again, to put his hands around that slender waist.

  He set the horses in motion, but held them back, making them walk. This pair was fresh, but he refused to give them their heads. The short drive from her house to the park, and the gentle trot up to this far end of Rotten Row had hardly winded them at all.

  “We were interrupted. I wanted to say something else to you.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. The tan gloves showed slight soiling. He was beginning to expect that of Lady Damaris. She was never quite en pointe, but he enjoyed that about her. Perfection bored him. “More than the bargain you wished to strike with me?”

  Happier now, he launched into his proposal. He would have asked her anyway, but the courtship idea made his treat work even better. “Instead of going to the ball, I’d prefer to take you to Greenwich Observatory.”

  Her gasp stilled in the air, and her head whipped around to confront him. She breathed deeply, the cravat at her throat lifting so the lace tickled her chin. “So soon?”

  “Why not?” he said affably. “Of course you must invite anyone you wish to make the visit respectable. If they do not wish to see the Observatory, the Naval College provides a great deal of amusement. The chapel and the dining hall are generally open to viewers, especially to the benefactors of the home.” Although the Greenwich Naval College was one of the grandest buildings in the London area, and that was saying something, it housed indigent old sailors who would otherwise be homeless. Of course they were worthy sailors, he recalled with a tight smile.