A Slight Miscalculation: A Half Moon House Short Story

by Deb Marlowe

Chapter Three

  Misty rain dampened everything the next day, stealing color and turning everything grey as Worthe knocked at the Half Moon House door. He told himself that it was only an excuse to escape his mother—she’d invited herself to tea and he knew she wouldn’t come alone. If he had to spend the afternoon with a debutante, then Jane Tillney was right, he’d prefer one who knew a comet from a nebula.

  “Lord Worthe!” Peggy saw him over the burly butler’s shoulder as she passed in the hall. “Come in and see how well we are getting on!”

  Now that his vision was clear, Worthe noticed the wide entry had a parlor on either side. The left was filled with sewing, gossiping women. The right held Jane Tillney once more, crouching and finishing the trim on a completed robe.

  “Come in, my lord, and see,” she called. “The first one is finished!”

  Yesterday’s Diana had been transformed into the Archer. He paused and cocked a brow. “Is it safe?”

  “I promise not to shoot,” Molly said, sheepish. “But we did have the bow.”

  “You’ve outdone yourselves,” he said admiringly, stepping forward. The silver was striking against the deep blue. “It will look spectacular under the stage lights.”

  “I thought so, too,” Jane said.

  He spread his hands. “I’ve no skill with a needle, but I thought I’d see if there was a way I could help.”

  “There is! Your escort would be welcome.” Jane climbed to her feet, smiling at him, and suddenly Worthe was as out of breath as he’d been when he hit the walkway. “We’ve need of more fabric.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  “Good. My carriage is out back.” She turned to the butler, who’d obviously been recruited to help. “Isaac, if you don’t object, I’ll take a groom along as chaperone.”

  The servant, carefully cutting multi-rayed silver stars, only nodded.

  Worthe helped her into a snug pelisse of fawn silk damask. He could barely take his eyes from her. She was lovely in an understated way, with soft curves and a ready smile. One had to look close to see the beauty of her eyes and her fine bone structure, and one had to spend time with her to enjoy that quick mind. Somehow the unassuming nature of her best qualities made them all the more precious.

  They spoke a little of the work still to be done as the carriage set out. And she thanked him once again.

  “I should thank you.” He grinned. “You’ve provided the perfect excuse to avoid my mother and her latest candidates for viscountess.”

  She didn’t return the smile. “I was thinking of what you said. Perhaps you might broaden your thinking when it comes to your mother. Take her perspective into account? Perhaps she only fixates on your marriage because it might give her a chance to spend time with you.”

  Worthe softened. “That’s a very generous notion.” He grimaced. “And yet unlikely. My mother never wished to spend time with me, unless her role as dutiful maternal figure might impress a friend or lover.”

  She shrank a little. “Oh.”

  He shrugged. “She’s very fashionable—and very changeable. As a child I lived in uncertainty. Which would it be, when we encountered each other? Would I be coddled, merely acknowledged, or chased away?”

  Her eyes had gone wide. “I’m very sorry. It sounds . . . difficult.”

  There was a moment of silence as she stared out at the drizzle, then she turned back, expectantly. “You mentioned yesterday that you are usually absorbed in your work. Is it related to the observations in your article?”

  For the first time he was pleased to discuss his work in company. “Yes. Something is causing those orbital variations. I’m working now to build a telescope powerful enough to investigate. I believe I’ve narrowed down the right areas to search.”

  Her eyes lit up and something happened inside of him. A shift. An easing, perhaps, of some tight restriction.

  “Are you building it yourself? Grinding the mirror discs and all? I’ve read a little about the process.”

  He nodded.

  “It must be time consuming.”

  “Incredibly. And tedious, but I’ll know it was done right.” His mouth twitched. “My valet is in revolt, however.”

  “The emery powder? Ah, I can imagine. And when you come to the silvering—”

  They talked companionably as they arrived at the linen draper’s and Jane ordered several more yards of fabric.

  “Allow me,” he insisted, when it came time to address the bill.

  “Oh, how generous of you!” she said earnestly. “My pin money bought yesterday’s but this morning I had to raid the household cash Hestia left.” She clutched his arm in thanks. “And Hestia has so many uses for each shilling.”

  He stared, feeling the jolt of her touch vibrate along his spine, down into his heels, with a quick detour to his manhood. “Extra ribbon,” he said in an effort to distract himself. “We should pick that up too.”

  He fell silent as they started back, contemplating how different her life was from his. She was fully engaged with the world around her and so many of the people in it. His world was small, focused, quiet.

  Lonely.

  “The girls were hoping you might attend the audition,” she ventured after a while. “I’ll be there. Especially as I’ll have to miss the opening performance, should they win the parts.”

  “They’ll win. No doubt. Middleton said it would come down to the costumes and you’ve done a marvelous job.” He watched her expression. “Do you have plans for the evening of the opening?”

  “Yes, a ball at Lord Dayle’s. It’s one of the last occasions that will include the visiting foreign dignitaries. My mother is convinced that if I just try I can catch a German prince or a Russian count.”

  “I shouldn’t think you’d have to try,” he said quietly.

  “Thank you, but there’s no need for flattery.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I know it’s my duty to marry well. I shall. And you are right, likely long before you must.” She sighed. “Your words have been on my mind. It would be a very fine thing if even more women became interested in the sciences and astronomy, would it not? It would make it easier for you to find an acceptable potential bride, once you were ready.”

  Suddenly that far off, unsought-after day looked even bleaker.

  “But you know, when the time comes, you might wish to also enter into her interests.” She looked away. “I know I haven’t given up the dream of finding someone who would be interested in helping me better the world.”

  He sat back, feeling some of the ease they felt together slipping away. He didn’t wish to think of her out in Society, looking for a man more compatible with her dreams and plans. And yet, he couldn’t possibly contemplate . . . the alternative.

  “Don’t misunderstand,” she asked. “I enjoy my life in Society. It’s just that there is so much more out there. So much to be done. There are many worthy people in need of help, and so many ways to make life brighter.” Her focus remained on the tiny drops moving across the window. “Shared interests—both ways—must surely make a marriage strong.”

  ‘Your word choice is interesting.” His mood was plummeting as they pulled up to Half Moon House. “I’ve found it hard to judge anyone as worthy—until now.”

  She ducked her head.

  “People are impulsive and often self-serving. I never feel comfortable with most of them. I never feel as if I truly know them. They are so . . . unpredictable.”

  He climbed down as the carriage door opened and turned to assist her. Her eyes were sad as they fixed on his face. For a moment they stared, fully experiencing this shared moment in time and space, knowing it was fleeting and feeling the pain of it. He bent over her hand and pressed a kiss there, feeling the heat of her skin through the kid. “Perhaps you’ll understand why I prefer to spend my time in the company of the stars. They are far more constant. Predictable.”

&
nbsp; Safe.

  He stepped away and bowed. “Goodbye, Miss Tillney. I hope to see you at the audition.”