“I did no such thing,” Montfort said, too drunk to see the danger. “Your fancified excuse for a carriage isn’t balanced. Told you it wouldn’t hold up.”
“The carriage isn’t at fault when a nodcock forces it into a ditch. And when said nodcock fails to stop and help the injured, he deserves a good horsewhipping. Pity I didn’t bring one with me. I don’t suppose any of you gentlemen have a whip at hand?” Theo asked, keeping his eyes on the baron’s son.
Finally grasping the insult was directed at him, Roderick glared through bleary eyes. “Bookworms don’t have the guts to whip a dog,” he said scornfully.
“You haven’t the wits or the guts to know dogs don’t need whipping,” Theo snarled, expecting the man to come out fighting.
When Montfort didn’t even attempt to come after him, Theo realized the dolt was too drunk to stand. Already frustrated beyond measure to be here instead of where he wanted to be, he grabbed Montfort by the shirt front and dragged him from his seat.
The sot swung wildly, landing a weak blow on Theo’s ribs. In disgust, Theo released his grip and let his opponent slide to the floor. Once Roddy was sprawled across the boards, Theo upended his nearly-full tankard over his head. “I’ll wait until you can stand before thrashing you properly.”
Dirty blond hair dripping, Montfort clenched his fist and scrambled to stand. “Why, you—”
“Upstart?” Theo suggested, walking away. “I can’t think of a better epithet at the moment. Come along, Hugh, we need to feed a few farmers.”
Montfort staggered in Theo’s direction, but Theo merely stepped aside, letting his neighbor fall against a table. “Sorry about the mess, Samuel.” He threw a gold coin on the bar. “That should cover the cost of tossing out the rubbish.”
Before he could reach the door, horses galloped into the inn yard, accompanied by warning shouts. Gut clenching, Theo stepped outside.
“They’re torching the hay shed!” one of Duncan’s older tenants yelled. “And marching this way.”
Wanting nothing more than his quiet study, Theo dashed for his horse with Hugh on his heels.
If he hadn’t dallied with Roderick . . . If he’d known where to go or which farmer to talk with . . . But he didn’t. And now buildings were burning and men could be hurt.
He didn’t personally know the hardworking men in the fields—but he had grown up around them. He couldn’t believe they’d burn their crops without coming to Duncan with their grievances first.
Of course, if they’d come to Duncan recently . . . They’d probably been thrown out on their ears. Which was why they were trying to get his attention. And Theo was failing them.
“Ride back to the house,” he shouted at Hugh. “Tell them I won’t be home soon. And tell your father he’d better hire a steward with a big stick and spine of steel.”
“Can’t I watch the fire?” the boy called in disappointment.
“No,” Theo said firmly. “It will burn out, then there’ll just be a lot of drunken shouting. The ladies have probably fixed a nice meal by now. Get something to eat.”
As Hugh happily rode off with that thought, Theo realized that Azenor had taught him one thing already—boys could be bribed with food.
***
Aster was directing one of the new maids in how to properly remove the plates from the right side of each person at the table when Hartley’s sturdier twin rushed into the room, brimming with excitement.
“The farmers are setting fire to the shed! Uncle Theo dumped ale over Mr. Montfort’s head.”
With a more adult swagger than his twin—who was under the table with the puppies—Hugh snatched a roll from the buffet and shoved cold ham and cheese between the layers as he talked.
Jacques and William pushed back from the table, and Azenor tried not to panic.
“Surely that’s only boasting,” she protested. “Why would they burn sheds?”
“Hartley, run up and check Theo’s telescopes. Tell us where the fires are,” William ordered the twin beneath the table. “Hugh, sit and eat and pretend you’re civilized.”
“I want to see the telescopes.” Aster pushed back from the table without waiting for the new footman to assist her. “Bree, finish directing Sally and James on how to clear the table. Sally, find a plate for Hugh.”
“It is nothing to worry yourself over,” Jacques said, stopping to offer his arm. “There is always tension when Dunc encloses a field or changes a crop or introduces a machine. Without Ashford riding out to explain, people become anxious.”
“I brought my family and servants here,” Aster said crisply, hiding her fear and concern. “Torching a shed is not nothing. I will not allow my guests to stay if there is danger. Who is this Montfort and what does he have to do with this?”
Limping, she followed the two men up the stairs. Hartley had already raced ahead and disappeared into the upper reaches.
“Montfort is a lazy sot who has naught to do but spend his allowance and watch corn grow.” Jacques indicated a dark parlor at the head of the stairs. “There is a telescope in there. Hartley will run up to the roof where he’ll have a broader perspective.”
Understanding she was holding him back, Aster nodded. “Go, do what you need to do. Please be careful.”
“Haven’t heard that since my maman left for Paris,” Jacques said, lingering after Will’s departure. “Hartley will show you how to use the glass when he comes down.”
At her nod, Jacques strode off as if eager to attend a boxing match or horse race. Their neighbor was not the only one bored with watching corn grow. Men! she thought in frustration, finding her way through the salon with only a candle and the last rays of evening. They were all overgrown children believing themselves invincible.
Which meant Lord Theo was doing what? Beating up bullies? Or threatening mobs? She was far better off never marrying and putting herself through this.
Hands behind her back, she peered into the glass eyepiece. It was focused on the stars, of course. She gasped in awe at the wondrous spread of diamonds across the velvet sky that had been invisible to the naked eye. No wonder Lord Theo was fascinated. He had the entire universe at his fingertips.
But hearing the clatter of boots and shouts of men as they ran down the back stairs to the stable, she reluctantly attempted to focus the glass on the earth instead of the heavens.
Hartley joined her long after the horses rode out of the yard. A spaniel trotted happily on his heels and settled across her toe. “The shed is ashes. There are torches in the lane coming from the north,” the boy said, adjusting the telescope’s position and fiddling with the dials. “The hedges are too high to see much. I suppose I should talk to Father.”
Aster prayed she wasn’t the harbinger of doom that had brought disaster on them. Surely the three or four generations separating them kept Ives from being close enough to consider them as Family on her chart. She swallowed her fear and tried to remain unruffled for the boy.
“Why don’t you take your twin with you? Hugh will know more since he’s been out there. Lord Ashford will need you to be his eyes, so don’t leave the house unless he tells you to.”
Hartley nodded. “I’ll tell Hugh. He’ll want to be out there otherwise.”
She really had no business interfering with how the Ives operated their estate, but her heart went out to these lost boys. Their mother had essentially abandoned them into the care of a man who had too many problems to even look after himself. Really, the faster Theo married, the better off everyone would be.
Unless he married someone like Emilia, who wouldn’t notice the boys’ existence. Oh dear.
Fourteen
Aster had spread her charts out on a game table in the upper salon by the time Lord Theo and his brothers returned. After determining from the telescope that a raging fire wasn’t spreading across the fields and that she couldn’t see anything else, she had abandoned watching and turned to the zodiac that spoke to her more clearly. She hadn’t realized how terrified she’d been until
they returned safely, if soot-covered and unhappy—this time.
Her charts had not left her optimistic about the dangers on the horizon—all of them focused on the family sectors of the brothers. It was akin to seeing large rocks balanced precariously above the path they walked. She wished she didn’t see these premonitions so clearly.
She glanced up when Lord Theo entered. The others continued on to their chambers. He carried his coat over his arm and stood there in waistcoat and shirtsleeves, his discarded neckcloth leaving his shirt open at the throat. She had to avert her eyes from his exceedingly masculine chest.
“It is late,” he said with a weary growl, wiping grime from his perspiring brow. “You should be sleeping. Where is your maid?”
“Aunt Nessie kept me company for a while, but I sent her off to bed.” She didn’t want to admit—even to herself—that she’d stayed up to see that everyone returned safely. That was what one did for family, and these charts were proof enough that joining her disastrous destiny with that of a family who had dozens of knives hanging over their heads would be a very bad idea. She ought to have gone to bed—but she wouldn’t have gone to sleep.
He helped her roll up her charts. “Did you find more doom and gloom in our futures?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so, but I also see your soul mate on the horizon,” she said guardedly, trying not to feel the hurt forming around her heart.
“Really?” He looked interested. “What does she look like?”
“I can’t tell that,” she replied in annoyance. “It would be far easier if the planets wrote names across your life line, but they don’t. There is a good chance that one of our guests will become your wife.”
“If I live long enough?” he asked with a trace of irony. “What disaster do you foresee this time?”
“I do not mean to be a Cassandra.” She knew he had every right to be skeptical about her prophecies, but it still irritated that he couldn’t accept her warnings now that she’d proved her accuracy. “I cannot live with myself if I do not warn you when danger is in your future.”
“Maybe I’ll marry someone who will kill me? Or do you think your charts will let us know if the Hall is about to burn down?” he asked wearily.
In the lamp light, his tired smile was still able to turn her lonely heart upside-down. She ought to visit the marquess and have objects thrown at her to end this tendency toward sentiment.
Aster concentrated on tying her scrolls. “Charts are not precise. My intuition sees fire and hatred but not targets. I watched through your telescope to be certain no fields were set ablaze. How did you prevent that?”
“I invited several of our more substantial tenants to help interview stewards,” he said, helping her tie the ribbons. “They know I’m useless for their purposes, and they were worried.”
“Smart of you, stupid of them to underestimate you.”
He halted his ribbon tying and studied her with an interest that made her squirm. “As you yourself have pointed out, I am an absent-minded scientist with my head in the stars. I let them burn down a whole damned shed and half the harvested hay while I was trying to figure out what to do. I have no idea how to interview stewards. They were not underestimating me.”
Aster sent him a scathing look meant to put him in his place. “You stopped a riot, did you not? Could your brother have done better?”
“Undoubtedly, and before we lost a shed and all its contents. I did not even know half our tenants’ names. I lack the patience to spend the rest of my days dealing with troublemakers, so do not make of me something that I am not.” He sounded almost angry at her compliment.
Accepting that men did not think as she did, she asked, “What happened to the fire-starters?”
“I told them Montfort was at the tavern, buying ale for all,” he said, apparently willing to be distracted. “It won’t teach Montfort not to cause trouble, but it gave the hotheads something better to do.”
“For now.” She gathered the scrolls into her valise, stepping away from the all-too-tempting scent of raw male. “There are parts of your chart I cannot properly understand. I need to study your scientific tracts to see what I am missing in my calculations.”
“I think I shall just pick one of your more efficient maids and marry her. At least she might organize the household,” he said in resignation. “We are wasting our time on this tea party when we know none of your ladies will possibly suit. Half of them will no doubt run in terror once they meet the hounds and the goats and my brothers.”
“Goats?” she asked faintly. Besides sweat, he smelled of smoke and ale, but she took his arm to limp down the corridor to her room. His masculine proximity made her much too aware of what they’d done in the conservatory, and she wished he’d go away. And despite his interesting dishabille, he was a gentleman, and she knew he wouldn’t. “What goats?”
“You don’t want to know,” he asserted with unusual coldness. “And do not think that you’ve seen all my family. The boys are all out of school for the summer, and after visits with their mothers, will soon fill the house. We don’t hold on to women, but the boys are permanent.”
“There are a few girls in your charts,” she said with indignation. “What do you do with them?” As the Malcolm family librarian, she had become inured to the fact that this branch produced more illegitimate offspring than legitimate. Given Ives intelligence and ambition, it hadn’t held them back much in society.
She had deduced that women of low birth chased Ives because they knew, even if they were dishonored, that with the marquess’s title and support their positions would be better than before.
She would rather the marquess spent his wealth on providing education for Daphne’s factory laborers and Gwenna’s orphans than in producing more bastards.
“What would we do with girls around here?” Lord Theo asked in surprise. “We can’t teach them drawing or etiquette or needlework. They stay with their mothers.”
“Where they belong,” Aster said dryly. “Charming. I suppose I should be glad that you haven’t installed their mothers in the attic or I would never persuade a single lady past the portal.”
“Few dare cross the threshold as it is,” he said, grimacing. “You are a rare specimen. Unless you can find me a woman as intrepid as yourself, I foresee a future of hysterics, and not the help I need.”
“You do not know the right sorts of women,” she said in scorn, although her lonely heart cried out for the comfort the gentleman offered and needed. “My friends and family are not so faint of heart. There is a woman perfect for you in your chart. But I am thinking the challenge is too great for any one woman. We need to think about marrying off your brothers as well.”
“And while you’re at it, will you feed the hungry and bring peace on earth?” he asked, opening her chamber door for her.
She almost laughed at his cynicism. But perhaps that was just nervousness at his proximity.
“I will see you in the morning,” he continued without waiting for a reply, “and you can tell me of these Amazons who will run the household, keep the books, terrify rioters, and produce heirs at the same time.”
When put like that . . . Aster winced as the door closed behind her.
She would have to be a magician to produce what his lordship needed.
***
“I need you there to interview the stewards who have traveled miles looking for this position!” Theo shouted at his boneheaded older brother. “I haven’t the faintest clue what to ask.”
“I suggest—how much do you expect us to pay you and for what?” Duncan said grumpily, groping at his trousers, apparently in search of the placket so he could put them on straight.
“I’ll send your devilish valet back to you. He’s about to drive me mad. You’ll look all proper and lordly and the stewards will never know the difference.” Theo paced up and down his brother’s chamber, kicking books and papers and china out of his way.
Duncan had thrown out one of Lady Azenor’s m
aids after she’d dropped the china this morning. In fairness, Dunc’s roar for her to leave the damned tray where he could find it had frightened half the household. The maid didn’t have a chance.
“You need to look decent to woo a wife. Get used to it. It’s not as if he can shave this ugly scar, or needs to.” Duncan shoved his bandaged leg into the opening he’d found.
“No, you’d rather prove that you can’t do what you used to do and bellow the house down. This is an abuse of power, Dunc. You can’t force all your duties on me. I’ve reached my limits.” Theo kicked one of his brother’s favorite novels and nearly wept, knowing Dunc would never read it again.
Lady Azenor had made him painfully aware of the loss his brother suffered. He wished she hadn’t.
“It’s about time you tested your limits instead of fiddling your nights away watching the moon. Get out and lock the door behind you.” Duncan attempted to put both legs in one trouser hole, realized his error, and swore a mighty oath.
“I warn you, I’m bringing the stewards straight up here unless you come up with a better solution.” Theo slammed out, leaving the marquess half-dressed and swearing like a sailor.
Theo bit back his own stream of profanity when he discovered Lady Azenor intrepidly swinging down the hall, using the walking stick as if she’d held it all her life. She brightened at seeing him.
Her smile made him feel ten feet tall and produced the nonsensical need to shelter her from all life’s travails. Or at least carry her to a chair so she didn’t harm that curvy little ankle. He could probably envelop it with one hand.
“There you are,” she said. “The first of your stewards has arrived. I’ve had Barton put him in the downstairs office. Will that suit?”
“I don’t suppose you can give me a list of questions to ask him?” Theo asked gloomily. Stars did not expect anything of him. People inevitably did. Lady Azenor wasn’t any better than the rest—probably worse if he gave it any thought.
“I am not a miracle worker. Your farmers should be here soon, shouldn’t they? Will they know what to ask?”
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