The Angel of an Astronomer

by Sande, Linda Rae

  “I should be going. I’ve kept you from your...” She pointed to the easel and its blank sheet of paper.

  “I don’t mind, truly,” he said with a shake of his head. “I...” He stopped and dipped his head, about to ask if she might join him again sometime. “I’ll escort you back to Worthington House, of course.”

  “You needn’t,” she argued, about to shed the greatcoat. She had already left the teacup on the tray.

  “But I will,” he insisted. “Keep the coat on, please, at least until you’re in your house. And take another biscuit, and a cake. Peters brought them for you.”

  About to put voice to a protest, Angelica couldn’t when he wrapped up the sweets in a napkin and added, “Just in case anyone asks why it is you’re awake at this late hour.”

  Angelica grinned, realizing he might have at one time needed the excuse. “Thank you.” She took the napkin and followed him down the spiral stairs. He carried the red lantern until he led them through the door, then turned to set it down on the ground. “We won’t need it given the moonlight.” Then, without warning, he lifted her into his arms.

  Letting out a gasp of surprise, Angelica thought to insist he put her down, but a memory of how her father carried her to the nursery when she was a child came flooding back, as did the familiar scent of his cologne. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You needn’t do this,” she whispered.

  “Perhaps, but I shouldn’t want your slippers to be ruined,” he countered. The combination of light from the moon and the new-fallen white snow made it easy to see their way to the back gate.

  Snow swirled about them as he hurried through the alley and then into the back yard of Worthington House, the sound of his boots on the freezing pavers muffled by the falling snow.

  Angelica opened the back door and slid down from his arms, amused by his determination to see to it her slippers didn’t touch the ground. Once inside, she turned and unwrapped the greatcoat from around her body. After stuffing the napkin into a pocket in her dressing gown, she soon had the coat around his shoulders, replacing the blanket he had been wearing. A moment later, and she had the blanket folded and draped over one of his arms. “Thank you for a most interesting evening,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered, reaching for her hand. He kissed the back of it, but didn’t let go right away. “You’re welcome to return, of course.”

  Angelica gave a curtsy. And then, not sure what possessed her to do so, she stood up on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Perhaps I shall.”

  Ben regarded her a moment before giving a nod. His gaze went up to just above her head, where a sprig of mistletoe had been hung from the door jamb. A servant’s doing, no doubt.

  Her gaze followed his, and her mouth parted with her inhalation of breath. Taking advantage, because he knew he would regret it for the rest of the night if he did not, he leaned over and took her lips with his own.

  The kiss was quick. Nothing to cause scandal, surely. But he knew she was surprised by it. Hopefully not horrified. Mayhap gratified, for there was that brief moment when he was sure she returned the kiss.

  Now he wished he had allowed his lips to linger. The temptation was so great, he nearly kissed her again. Propriety prevailed, though, and he stepped back and then bowed. “Goodnight, my lady.” He turned and made his way back to the alley, disappearing behind the fence.

  Closing the door as quietly as she could manage, Angelica stood with her back to it, her breath held in disbelief. The tips of her fingers moved to the edge of her lips, lightly brushing over the sensitive skin as she remembered how his lips had felt when pressed there. Firm and gentle, eager but not lustful.

  Warmth spread through her entire body, and she found she couldn’t suppress a smile.

  Muffin’s quiet ‘woof’ had her giving a start. “Shh,” she said.

  Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she made her way up the back stairs and to her bedchamber, Muffin following close behind.

  She was nearly to her door when her brother’s voice came from down the hall. “And just where have you been?”

  Chapter 16

  Contemplating a Construct

  Meanwhile...

  Ben stood at the back gate of Worthington House for almost an entire minute after Lady Angelica shut the door. The place on his cheek where her lips had touched was warm despite the plummeting temperature of the air that surrounded him. His lips were positively humming.

  Had she truly kissed him? Or had he just imagined it?

  He knew he had kissed her. Seeing the mistletoe had been the same as hearing an invitation.

  Kiss me.

  But the look of surprise on her face suggested she really didn’t know it was hanging above her.

  Ben walked the few steps down the alley to his gate as if in a daze, his way lit by the moon. “This is all your doing,” he murmured, and then gave his head a shake.

  What was he saying?

  The moon was merely a celestial body that happened to have made an appearance at a rather fortuitous moment. He had barely realized he had his guest sitting atop his bent knee until the scent of her drifted past his nose.

  He took in a deep breath, the cold air chilling his nostrils and smelling of coal smoke. Such a disappointment when he was imagining lemon and florals scents.

  As he made his way in his garden, he realized this was only the second time he had ever passed through the wrought iron gate. He regarded the green-painted iron fencing that lined the alley, rather impressed the former owner had seen to having it installed over a simple wood or stone fence.

  He glanced down at the remains of a flowerbed at its base, one that continued along the entire length of the back garden and around its sides. Dusted with white flakes, the dormant garden had him wondering what blooms there might be come spring.

  Then he turned to gaze up at his observatory. From this vantage, the round brick structure appeared especially tall and almost like the turret of a castle. With a dome instead of crenellations, though, it reminded him of a Roman phallic symbol.

  He could just imagine what the neighbors might be calling it.

  Sir Benjamin’s Last Erection.

  The Cock of Bradford Hall.

  Fulton’s Tool.

  Wadsworth’s Staff.

  Ben groaned. Perhaps he could have the gardener plant round bushes around the base to lessen the effect of its profile.

  He blinked. Bushes would only make it worse.

  Sir Benjamin’s Cock and Balls.

  Another groan escaped his throat before he dared a glance at the moon and then at the observatory. Bathed in the ethereal glow that peeked out between gray, snow-laden clouds, the observatory wasn’t as bad as he first imagined. In the dark, though, without more than starlight, it was probably a rather frightening sight.

  Then his thoughts returned to his visitor.

  Lady Angelica hadn’t been the least bit afraid to enter the gardens, find the door, and climb the steps to accuse him of being a Peeping Tom.

  He could almost imagine her in her haste, her long blonde hair floating around her gorgeous face. Those ridiculous little slippers with their furry balls peeking out from beneath her hem with every determined step. Her white night rail and dressing gown flaring out around her, revealing the silhouette of her shapely body and long legs. All those qualities combined to make her appear as an angel in the dark.

  My angel, come to scold me and then serve me tea.

  A grin lit his face just then at remembering her ire. And then he nearly laughed. What would her father think if he discovered what she’d done on this night?

  She can scold me whenever she wishes, as long as she serves me tea and keeps me warm while we stargaze.

  Ben gave his head a shake.

  Whatever in the world was wrong with him? One evening—nay, an hour or so—spent in the company of the young lady, and then an innocent kiss, and he was imagining a heavenly body. And not one he could admire through his te
lescope.

  Well, he could, he supposed, if he actually aimed it at her bedchamber window.

  He gave his head another shake, realizing there was another moniker his neighbors could associate with him.

  The Peeping Tom of Mayfair.

  Allowing a sigh that had a white cloud surrounding his chilled face, Ben retrieved the red lantern from next to the observatory’s door and made his way into Bradford Hall.

  He had some letters he wished to read again.

  Chapter 17

  A Biscuit Saves the Night

  Meanwhile, back at Worthington House

  “Just where have you been?” George repeated as he moved to join Angelica from the other end of the hall. Only one torch lit the hall near the top of the main stairs.

  His twin sister held up the napkin. “The kitchens. I went down to get a biscuit and a cake,” she replied, unwrapping the linen to show him. She hoped her slippers didn’t appear wet, or that the hem of her dressing gown wasn’t soiled from her traipsing through the neighbor’s garden earlier that evening.

  “For over half-an-hour?” he countered. He was still dressed, although he had removed his top coat, waistcoat, and cravat.

  Angelica allowed a shrug. “I made a cup of tea.” She broke the biscuit in half and offered both it and the cake to him.

  He shook his head and then his eyes narrowed. Although he had drunk too much brandy at White’s, he was quite sure he could see clearly. “You have snowflakes in your hair.”

  Realizing she couldn’t deny the obvious, Angelica gave a shrug. “That’s because it’s snowing,” she replied happily. “I stood outside the back door a moment. The moon is lovely tonight. It makes the snowflakes look like falling glitter.”

  George blinked. “You’ll catch your death!”

  Assured he didn’t suspect she had been doing anything scandalous—not that she had, if anyone had asked her—Angelica moved to open her bedchamber door. “I rather doubt it.” After a pause, she asked, “What have you been doing this evening?”

  He inhaled slowly before finally saying, “I was at White’s with Cousin Thomas. He sends his regards.”

  “He didn’t go to Derbyshire for Christmas?” she asked in surprise.

  George shook his head. “He has business here in London, so he stayed. Emily did, too, by the way. He also said the Norwick twins are in town.”

  “Oh, good. I’ll invite them to the dinner party,” Angelica said, wishing they could end their conversation. She really wanted to get to the window in her bedchamber to discover if Mr. Fulton was still outside.

  “Gabe Wellingham was there, too. He was a few years ahead of me at Eton.”

  “Oh?” Angelica’s eyes darted to one side, pretending she wasn’t familiar with the name. He would remember they had seen him in the park, though, so she gave up the ruse. “Oh! Lady Anne’s oldest brother,” she said with a brilliant smile. “I think he used to have a crush on me,” she murmured before her eyes widened. “Is Lady Anne in town, too?”

  He nodded, about to tell her what Gabe had said. But then he remembered his promise that he wouldn’t repeat what Gabe had told him. Instead, he said, “I came up with what I think will be suitable verbiage for the invitations to the dinner party. I also made up a list of those I think should attend. Can you write them up on the morrow?”

  “Of course. I’ll see to it right after breakfast,” she replied, anxious to get into her room so she could discover if Mr. Fulton was still about.

  “I’ve been thinking about that building next door, and you’re quite right. It is hideous,” George stated. “I had a chance to look at it when I was on my way to White’s tonight.”

  Angelica blinked and shook her head. “Oh, but it’s not,” she argued. At his look of disbelief, she added, “I was regarding it as I stood outside just now, and I think I rather like having an observatory right next door. I’m quite sure important work is being done in there.”

  His brows furrowing in confusion, George regarded her a moment before he asked, “Where is my sister, and what have you done with her?”

  Angelica gave him a quelling glance. “Eat a biscuit and go to bed,” she countered, once again offering him the broken biscuit.

  George took the biscuit and eyed it with suspicion. “How many have you had?”

  He didn’t see the punch until it impacted his shoulder. The same shoulder she had punched earlier. “Ouch!” he breathed through gritted teeth. “Angel!”

  “See you at breakfast,” she said sweetly, just before she ducked into her bedchamber and closed the door, careful to be sure Muffin stayed on the other side of it.

  George stuffed the biscuit into his mouth and mumbled his annoyance the entire way back to his bedchamber, Muffin on his heels.

  Did I truly kiss him?

  Once she managed to escape her brother’s suspicious gaze, Angelica turned down the bedchamber’s only lit lamp and made her way in the dark to the southwest corner of the room.

  She contemplated her last moment with Ben Fulton as she stood peering through a small opening in the drapes that covered the south window. Munching on the half-biscuit, she spied on her evening’s host.

  He stood rooted in the center of what was left of the garden, apparently regarding the tall, barrel-shaped building as snow fell in large, fluffy flakes. Probably just realized it looks like a phallic symbol, she thought with a twinkle.

  She had expected he would have already disappeared into his observatory, or perhaps into Bradford Hall, given how clouds now covered most of the sky and snowflakes drifted from above.

  The light from the moon bathed him in a milky white glow, the clouds suspiciously parted in exactly the right spot for it to perform its magic. She could see that he was staring up, first at the observatory and then back to the moon.

  She remembered the moment she had been perched on his knee, and he had leaned forward to stare through the telescope lens. Remembered the scent surrounding him.

  Citrus and amber.

  She inhaled deeply, imagining those scents surrounding her again.

  She remembered his dark hair, and how close his head had been to the side of her body. How one of his hands had rested on the side of her waist, much like it would do if they had been dancing a waltz.

  If she hadn’t been holding her cup of tea, it would have been so easy to simply wrap her arms around his shoulders and neck, settle her head into the small of his shoulder, and close her eyes. Fall asleep in his warm arms. Kiss him when she awoke.

  Frissons of delight skittered through her torso, sending warmth to her entire body.

  Despite the inappropriate thoughts, she wasn’t about to scold herself. She might be inclined to scold him again, though, the memory of his expression vivid in her mind’s eye.

  She allowed a grin and widened the opening of the drapes, the subject of her recollection no longer where he had been a moment ago.

  Her eyelids heavy, Angelica was barely awake when she realized Ben Fulton had disappeared from his garden.

  Relieved he had finally taken shelter, she climbed onto her bed and promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter 18

  A Plan is Revealed

  Meanwhile, at Trenton House

  Gabe stepped down from the hackney and made his way up to the front door of Trenton House. Given the late hour—it was past midnight—he was expecting to have to let himself in.

  The front door opened, but instead of Barclay, his sister, Anne, stood in her night rail and dressing gown. “Do come in and make it quick. It’s chilly out there,” she said as she waved him into the vestibule.

  “What are you doing up at this hour?” Gabe asked as he hurried inside, divesting himself of his great coat and scarf. Anne was quick to take the articles of clothing and hang them on hooks. She reached up and lifted his top hat, lightly dusted with snow, from his head. After wiping off the flakes with edge of her dressing gown, she placed it on a shelf.

  “Reconnaissance, of course,” she wh
ispered.

  Gabe stared at her. “How do you even know that word? Let alone what it means?” he queried as he made his way into the hall. The pleasant buzz of inebriation had him feeling a bit lighter on his feet.

  Or perhaps he just couldn’t feel his knees.

  “I am educated,” Anne countered with a huff. “How is Cousin Thomas?”

  Furrowing a brow, Gabe stepped into the front parlor, hoping the carpeted room would help deaden the sound of their conversation. “He is well. Seeing to business, as usual. And no, he is not courting anyone,” he added, thinking that would be her next question.

  “But what about Viscount Hexham?”

  His eyes darting to one side, Gabe inhaled and then gave his head a shake, as if doing so might clear his muddled mind. “Were you...? Did you...?”

  How did she know George Grandby was at White’s?

  “His first day back in London?” she asked rhetorically. “Of course he would go to his club,” she reasoned. “And since he is a cousin to Cousin Thomas—”

  “Yes, he was there, too. And yes, Hexham was with Cousin Thomas,” Gabe said, and then, because the brandy still had him a bit tipsy, he added, “and yes, I mentioned you would marry him and give him lots of babies.”

  Her inhalation of breath could have been heard through the entire ground floor of the townhouse. “You didn’t!” Anne’s smiling face suddenly sobered, and she instantly paled.

  Gabe regarded her a moment, rather amused at how mortified she looked just then. “Oh, you are correct. It wasn’t quite like that. I said you would marry him, oversee his household, and give him lots of babies.”

  Anne sat down, hard, rather glad there was an upholstered chair right behind her knees. “Oh, well that makes all the difference,” she replied sarcastically.

  Thinking he might fall down if he didn’t sit down, Gabe took the chair adjacent to hers, and not quite as gracefully. “He’s going to speak with Father. Probably invite you for a ride in the park, and then propose marriage.” He inhaled and then remembered how he had promised George he wouldn’t say anything to anyone.