by Deb Marlowe
Chapter Four
Jane sternly forbade herself from watching for Lord Worthe. Mr. Middleton had given them excellent seats close to the orchestra pit, just a few rows behind his own seat. She watched him lean over to consult his assistant as the first group stepped onstage. If the viscount hadn’t arrived by now, then he probably wasn’t coming.
“I’m Athena, goddess of wisdom.” The first girl stepped forward, a heavy book open in her arms.
“Her dress is very fine, but the rest of them don’t match,” Miss Liberty Baylis, Jane’s friend, whispered in her ear.
She’d brought Liberty, a young American new to London, to keep her company. Their mothers were becoming fast acquaintances, but Liberty had not had the chance to meet many people as yet. Jane had hopes of recruiting her help for Hestia—and of using her to prevent being too much alone with Lord Worthe.
Not that it mattered, it turned out.
“She’d have done better with an owl.” The soft comment came from behind, not beside her, making her jump.
“Lord Worthe! You frightened me.” It was a fine excuse for her suddenly racing heart.
“My apologies.”
When the rest of the group had pronounced themselves and shown off their attire, after Middleton had bent to take notes, the viscount came around into their row and made his bow.
“My lord, may I present Miss Liberty Baylis? Lord Worthe,” she indicated.
He took her extended hand. “Liberty? How unusual—”
“Yes, yes!” Liberty cut him off. “A most unusual name.” She rolled her eyes. “My parents are slightly daft.”
“Liberty!” Jane laughed, scandalized.
“It’s the only explanation. And they are lovely, even if they are a bit touched. Whoops!” She turned back to the stage. “Here’s the next set.”
They were nearly identical to the first, save that Athena had been replaced with a cleverly constructed Medusa.
“Jane tells me that you are an astronomer, my lord,” Liberty said once the new group had finished too. “How exciting.”
“I’m afraid it’s rather the opposite.” He looked at Jane as he replied.
“She says you’ve already discovered an asteroid and are on your way to bigger things. Surely all that will lead to respect and notoriety.” Liberty sparkled up at him and Jane suddenly began to regret bringing her along. “And that will certainly be exciting.”
Jane wrinkled her nose. “And yet not a substitute for human interaction.”
Her stomach flopped at the viscount’s suddenly dark expression. Plain speaking was fine, but she feared she’d just gone too far.
“Perhaps we should talk in the back of the theater, so as not to interfere with the proceedings.”
He held out a hand but Jane ignored it, popping out of her seat unaided, suddenly intent on having her say. All of her say. “We’ll just be in that back corner, at the start of the boxes,” she told Liberty.
Her heart raced as she stalked up the aisle. Every nerve tingled in anticipation.
“Perhaps I spoke out of turn yesterday,” he began.
“No, I’m afraid I did—and I don’t plan to stop there,” She knew she was being belligerent, but couldn’t stop herself. “The stars account for a fascinating area of study, but they cannot negate the basic need to care and be cared for.” She folded her arms. “And they are not constant.”
“No,” he agreed. “But they move in established and predictable patterns. It’s reassuring.”
“Let’s see the last group,” Middleton called.
“Wait!” Jane clutched at the viscount’s strong arm. “Here they are!”
The lights dimmed. After a silent moment, the girls moved slowly from the wings. The few high lights left picked out the shining silver in their cloaks. The effect was magical.
They formed a straight line, diagonal and to the left of center stage. They all peered down at the floor.
“What folly is this?” Molly asked mournfully.
“The folly of youth,” Peggy answered.
“The folly of man,” the Swan announced.
The viscount touched her hand, where she still held on to him, and sent her a questioning look.
“They convinced Middleton to give them the lines ahead of time. Oh, surely they will win the day!”
“Without doubt.”
“Thanks to you,” she said softly. She turned, but refused to relinquish her grip on him. “You talk about change as if it is a bad thing. You want to study these orbital variations so you can define and explain them.” She waved a hand toward the stage. “Those stars are bright, but in the sky they are incredibly far apart. Alone.”
He nodded, as if that were the desirable state.
“Don’t you see? Change can be good. You stepped into those girls’ lives a few days ago—and changed them for the better.”
He looked struck by that simple truth. “I didn’t mean to.”
“And you couldn’t have predicted it, either. That’s what’s reassuring. It’s the variations in fate and the unpredictability in people that can make life grand.”
He frowned. “Not all people are worthy, Jane.” He tried to use her words against her.
She couldn’t let him.
“No. Some are not. That’s the beauty and purpose of life, I think. We move through the chaos, touching, learning, comparing, testing. And when we find someone who fits with us—we make a connection. A lasting friendship, a partnership.” She blushed. “A romance.”
She breathed deeply. “Like you see patterns among the stars to make constellations—we’re forging our own constellations down here.” She smiled. “And every connection fuels us. Makes us shine brighter.”
He looked stunned. Almost sick, as if she’d shot him with another arrow. The girls were leaving the stage now, to applause from Liberty and Middleton. But she was suddenly caught up in Worthe’s arms.
Renegade pleasure shivered through her as he pulled her close. Space and air between them grew scant—but charged with the heated sting of want. Worthe’s eyes shone a bit wild—and hers closed as he leaned in and captured her mouth. His kiss pressed, demanding. Slightly shocked, but thoroughly thrilled, she kissed him back.
He gentled, and she reveled in his embrace, marveled at the whimsy of fate that had brought them together, made them such a perfect fit for each other. In this way, too. Her blood was alight. Her hands wandered across hard, unfamiliar planes even as she softened beneath him, inviting, encouraging, asking for more.
Almost as abruptly as he’d begun, he pulled away. His finger drifted across the bridge of her nose and across her cheek. “There’s something I must do,” he said hoarsely. He gripped her shoulders. “Be ready to attend the opening night.”
And he was gone.
Worthe’s head was spinning. There were moments of elegance in science; brief seconds of peace, satisfaction and certainty when one at last understood a truth that fit into the puzzle that was the universe.
Jane Tillney had just handed him the sweetest puzzle piece he’d ever encountered—and he’d instinctively recognized the extreme correctness of it. More than an elegant moment, it had been a turning point on the path of his life.
It took a while to get back to Mayfair from Islington, but he arrived before the start of fashionable visiting hours. Ignoring her butler’s protest, he barged right in to his mother’s home and on up to her rooms.
She sat in front of her mirror, applying cream to her face. “Worthe!” she gasped. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine, Mother.” He stepped in and perched upon the nearby bed. “I have so much to tell you.”
Chapter Five
