The Angel of an Astronomer

by Sande, Linda Rae

  Dear Lady Angelica,

  I hadn’t thought to hear from you so soon after our last meeting. So glad the biscuit was of help, although I shudder to think of what might have happened to you should you have been without it. I do hope your brother did not scold you over much. Having an older brother myself, I understand what life with one is like.

  Thank you for the dinner invitation. I shall be there in the hopes I am seated somewhere near to you. Until then,

  Sincerely yours,

  Ben Fulton

  Post scriptum

  Truly, I am not a Peeping Tom, but I do look forward to seeing you again.

  He regarded the note for a moment, wondering if he was making a mistake in not signing it with the ‘Sir’ in front of his name. Doing so now would call attention to it, though, since it would be out of alignment with the rest of his carefully written lines. And he had decided to keep his knighthood a secret from her. At least, for now.

  In a second note, this one signed with ‘Sir Benjamin,’ he sent his regrets with a note that he would not be in town.

  Satisfied, he folded the notes, wrote The Lady Angelica Grandby, Worthington House on the outside, and applied a puddle of wax where the four corners were joined. About to stamp both with a seal made up of his initials, he instead opted for the one with a crescent moon and stars for his response as Mr. Fulton.

  He wondered if she would even notice.

  Summoning a footman, he instructed the tall man to deliver them at different times of the day.

  Another moment, and he glanced over at the letters from the earls. Perhaps it best he send a letter of introduction to George Grandby. Otherwise, he might not be welcome to set foot in Worthington House.

  Invited or not.

  Chapter 23

  A Viscount Seeks Advice

  Later that day, at Worthington House

  Angelica emerged from her salon with ink-stained fingers and a desire for a cup of tea and a biscuit. She had penned fifteen invitations for the dinner party following the sample her brother had provided, sealed them all with wax, and stamped them with her brother’s Hexham seal.

  She found George in his study, his head resting in one hand as he read a book. “A tragedy?” she guessed as she entered the wood-paneled room. The thick Aubusson carpeting not only cushioned her feet but seemed to absorb any extraneous sounds that might have come from the window behind the mahogany desk where her brother sat.

  George regarded her with a grimace. “More like a comedy of errors,” he replied. He leaned back in the chair and stared up at the coffered ceiling. “I may have... I may have made a mistake,” he murmured.

  Angelica inhaled sharply. “Surely not. What has happened?”

  Rolling his eyes, George leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “As you know, I invited Lady Anne for a ride in the park,” he replied. He ignored Angelica’s feigned gasp—she had heard the invitation during breakfast that very morning—and added, “I know absolutely nothing about her. I’ve just spent the last hour reading about the Trentons in DeBrett’s, and I still know nothing.”

  Allowing an impish grin, Angelica said, “What do you wish to know?”

  George blinked. “Everything there is to know.”

  “Has she accepted the offer?”

  Nodding, George said, “Yes. Which is why I find myself attempting to learn everything there is to know about her,” he said again, looking as if he had stayed up entirely too late the night before. Well, he had returned from White’s later than usual. “A footman delivered a verbal response about an hour ago. A happy yes, if I’m to understand the message after it had passed onto another footman and then to Winslow.”

  “I can only imagine,” Angelica murmured. “I’m surprised I didn’t hear her scream.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Angelica said with a shake of her head.

  “I probably would have had more notice if I had simply had our footman wait for a response.”

  “Probably,” Angelica agreed.

  “So tell me everything you know about her.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Angelica allowed a sigh. “Nearly eighteen, Lady Anne is the only daughter of the Earl and Countess of Trenton—”

  “I know that.”

  “She had a governess from Wolverhampton whilst living in Trenton Manor and then was tutored at home for two years alongside her brother, William, heir to the earldom.”

  “Tutored?” George repeated. “Isn’t that rather... unusual?”

  Angelica allowed a shrug. “I sat in on your lessons,” she replied.

  Frowning, George said, “But I didn’t know you were actually paying attention.”

  She gave him a quelling glance. “I had to pretend I wasn’t, of course, but I was,” she claimed, and then angled her head to one side. “Usually.”

  “So... she’s educated,” George reasoned.

  “Her mother would have demanded it even if Trenton didn’t wish it.”

  “The former manager of a coaching inn?” he countered. “There’s an implication in one of these books that she was a... a serving wench.”

  “At one time she was. A barmaid. She understood the business of running a coaching inn, and she made the best of it by assuming the managerial duties when the owner’s wife took ill,” Sarah explained. “And despite marrying an earl, she continued to oversee the inn for several years until she could promote her protégé to the position.”

  “Another woman, I suppose?” George guessed.

  “Indeed,” Angelica answered, tamping down her ire at hearing the tone of his comment. “The Spread Eagle Inn, now an unentailed property of the Trenton earldom, is regarded as one of the best coaching inns in all of Staffordshire.”

  George sighed. “So now I know about her mother. What about Lady Anne?”

  “She attended finishing school, one year of it here in London—”

  “Warwick’s,” George murmured, remembering that was how Angelica and Anne had originally met.

  “Yes,” Angelica affirmed. “She finished last spring, and there was some thought she might go another year, but she argued that she wished to marry and start a family—”

  “What about her Season?” George asked, his brows furrowing. All daughters of aristocrats wanted a Season. An opportunity to attend the entertainments. To see and to be seen.

  Angelica angled her head to the other side. “She would gladly forgo it if she had an offer of marriage,” she whispered. “And you did not hear that from me.”

  George’s eyes widened. “How is it you know such a thing?”

  His sister averted her eyes a moment. “She told me once, in confidence. I was at Warwick’s to pay a call on another student, and she joined us for tea,” she explained. “I had just finished my second Season that very month, and I remember I was bereft. I felt as if I had failed Father.”

  “You didn’t fail Father,” George said on a sigh.

  “I didn’t have a single offer of marriage,” Angelica complained.

  “Because Father wouldn’t allow any of those twits to make an offer,” he argued.

  “Well, I know that now,” she replied on a sigh. “I rather wish I had known it then.” After a pause, she added, “You can speak of just about any topic with Lady Anne.”

  Dipping his head, he said, “Thank you. Is there just one that I would do the best with?”

  Angelica dimpled. “Family. Marriage. Children.”

  “I was thinking that discussion might happen during our second meeting,” he reasoned.

  “Ask what she likes and doesn’t like.”

  George straightened, obviously intrigued. “Such as?”

  Rolling her eyes, Angelica just then remembered her brother had never courted anyone. “Her favorite flower. Then you’ll know what to have delivered from one of the hothouses in Chiswick,” she replied quickly. “Favorite color. Best holiday. Does she like horse races? Or the theatre? Favorite dance—”

  “If s
he says the Scottish reel, then there is no hope for us,” George stated as he leaned back in his chair.

  Angelia gave him a quelling glance. “I’m so glad I won’t be marrying you,” she whispered. “Although every young woman’s favorite dance is the waltz, and if you didn’t know that, then it is entirely too early for you to be courting anyone.”

  “I like the waltz,” George murmured.

  “What time are you to take her for the ride?”

  George sighed. “Three o’clock.”

  Angelica glanced at the clock that sat on the fireplace mantle and arched a brow. “Today?”

  George followed her line of sight and then let out a curse. “I must change clothes right now,” he said, and without another word, he took his leave of the study.

  Grinning, Angelica sighed and briefly wondered if she might be able to spy on the couple. Given the weather and the layer of white that covered the park, she decided she would be noticed should she follow on horseback. Or even on foot.

  Her gaze went to the telescope. If she could move it to the top story of the house and point it out one of the front windows, she just might be able to watch the couple as they made their way toward Rotten Row.

  “Winston!” she called out.

  The butler appeared almost immediately, which had her thinking he might have been eavesdropping on their conversation. “I need a footman to move the telescope to the top floor of the house. Is there an unused servant’s quarters up there that looks out over the park?”

  Winston’s gaze settled on the instrument a moment. “Your lady’s maid has vacated her quarters in favor of a room with her new husband,” he replied. “That room’s window faces Park Lane.”

  “That will do,” she said happily. “I wish to bird watch.”

  His brows lifting to nearly his hairline, Winston asked, “Have you a particular kind of bird in mind?” Given the weather, he doubted she would see many.

  Angelica allowed a brilliant smile. “Indeed. Turtle doves,” she replied. “Two of them.”

  Chapter 24

  Finally, A Ride in the Park

  An hour later

  “How do I look?” Anne asked, when her mother joined her in her bedchamber. She was wearing a sapphire riding habit with a pair of black boots and a rather sedate blue felt hat featuring several peacock feathers.

  Standing in her black heeled riding boots, she stood as tall as her mother.

  “Like a vision in blue,” Sarah said with a sigh. Her daughter’s blonde curls had been tamed into an elegant coiffure that added a few years to her apparent age. Given her cornflower blue eyes and ivory complexion, the sapphire riding habit was the perfect choice.

  “The groom has brought your horse around to the front. Grimsby will be joining you—” Sarah ignored Anne’s look of disappointment—“but he has strict instructions to remain at least ten feet behind you at all times.”

  Anne’s eyes widened in delight. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, do not thank me,” Sarah replied with a shake of her head. “Your father gave Grimsby those instructions.”

  Smiling, Anne wondered at the earl’s permissiveness and was about to ask, but her mother said, “I think he likes the idea of you married to a... to a younger aristocrat.”

  Gasping, Anne said, “I am not even sure yet if Hexham is courting me.”

  Sarah nearly rolled her eyes. “Oh, he is courting you,” she stated, her manner suggesting she had confirmed it with someone who knew.

  Anne blinked. “Who... who told you?”

  It was Sarah’s turn to blink. “Who told you?” she countered. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her eyes darting to one side, Anne wondered how to respond. She had an agreement with Gabe that she would say nothing. He had the same agreement with her, so if he hadn’t said anything to their mother, then who...?

  “Your father told me,” Sarah admitted. “I can only suppose Hexham sent him a note before the invitation to ride arrived, or... or perhaps he asked his permission in person.”

  Anne let out the breath she’d been holding. “Well, then.” She dipped her head. “I spent this morning in the library, trying to learn everything I could about the Torrington earldom,” she said, her words hopeful. “I thought I could find something to help in my conversations with the viscount.”

  Impressed by her daughter’s willingness to research a potential husband, Sarah regarded Anne with a wan grin. “And did you?”

  Anne sighed. “Not very much,” she admitted.

  “So after he has asked a question and you have answered, then it will be your turn to ask one of him,” Sarah said.

  “Such as?”

  Sarah shrugged. “What’s his favorite color? Does he prefer the theatre or horse racing? Is he reading a particularly diverting book?” She paused. “What do you wish to know about him?”

  Her eyes widening, Anne gave this last query a good deal of thought before she said, “How many children he would like. What time he prefers his dinner. Does he like to be kissed? If so, how often? Will he employ a mistress—?”

  “I rather doubt you should ask him that last question,” Sarah warned.

  “I wasn’t going to ask any of them,” Anne countered. “Those are merely the things I would like to know about him.”

  Barclay cleared his throat, which had the two turning their attention to the butler. He stood on the threshold of the open door, apparently not wishing to interrupt their conversation. “Lord Hexham has paid a call and is asking if you are in residence, Lady Anne.”

  Nervousness gripped Anne. “Color, horse racing, book, theatre,” she recited as she regarded her mother. “It is not funny,” she added when she noted how Sarah seemed to be suppressing a grin at her expense.

  “It is not,” Sarah agreed. “But it can be enjoyable. If you two are meant to suit, then you will.”

  Anne nodded and directed her gaze on Barclay “Yes, I am in residence, and I shall be right down.” She, in fact, hurried past him and made her way down the two flights of marble stairs, her boots barely making any sound on the steps.

  She was on the last landing down when she realized George Grandby was watching her from where he stood just beyond the vestibule.

  “Hello, Hexham,” she managed, slowing her descent in an effort to catch her breath. When she reached the bottom, she dipped a curtsy.

  George swallowed and then remembered to take her hand. She hadn’t yet pulled on her gloves, but held them in her other hand. He bowed and kissed the back of her bare knuckles, aware his touch had set off something in her hand from the way it trembled.

  Or perhaps those were his lips that trembled.

  He couldn’t remember ever having been this nervous before. Not even during exams at university.

  “Lady Anne. It’s so good to see you again,” he murmured.

  “And you as well,” she replied, relieved to find he didn’t stand too much taller than she did. Dancing with him would be easy. Kissing wouldn’t require she stand on tiptoe.

  Blinking, she wondered from where that thought had come. Perhaps it was because he had kissed the back of her hand, and he still held onto it.

  She thought to give it a slight tug so he would let go, but there was a pleasant sensation accompanying the warmth of his fingers. “Thank you for inviting me to ride with you today. Although we’ve only just returned to town yesterday, I am quite happy for the diversion.”

  His eyes widened. “Me as well,” he said. He struggled with what to say next, and then remembered one of his sister’s recommendations.

  Favorite colors.

  “I thought my favorite color was green, like the color of leaves and grass, but... now I do believe it is blue. Definitely blue,” he murmured, his gaze going down her riding habit and then back to her eyes.

  Anne allowed a grin. “I adore blue, too, although there are times when purple seems rather elegant.”

  “You would look positively glorious wearing purple,” he murmured. �
��Or any color, really. Or nothing...”

  His eyes squeezed shut at the same moment Anne blinked, and she could feel a blush staining her cheeks. “I’ll remember that when I’m allowed to wear something other than white to a ball,” she replied, well aware he still held onto her hand.

  Apparently her father was as well, for Trenton cleared his throat as he leaned against the doorjamb of his study. “You’ll run out of questions for each other if you ask them all before you’ve even left the house,” he teased.

  George gave a start and turned to regard the earl with a nervous nod. Had the earl overheard his last remark?

  Anne directed a quelling glance at her father and then remembered to do the introductions. “Hexham, have you met my father, Gabriel, Earl of Torrington?” She would have used her hand to wave in her father’s direction, but George was still hanging onto it.

  Trenton straightened and approached the couple. “We have met, of course,” he said as he held out his right hand. “Hexham. I understand you’ll be joining us in Parliament at the next session. Congratulations.”

  Forced to let go of Anne’s hand to shake Trenton’s, George just then realized how long he’d been holding onto it. “Thank you, sir. It’s good to see you again.” He paused a moment. “We won’t stay out more than an hour or so, given the chill in the air.”

  “Ride for as long as you wish,” Trenton replied. “But I trust you’ll have her home before dark.”

  “Oh, of course,” George agreed, heartened when Anne made a slight mewl of protest at hearing her father’s edict. George offered his arm. “Shall we?”

  Anne dipped her head and placed her arm on the viscount’s, but she managed to give her father a scolding glance. “I’ll see you at dinner, Father.”

  They made their way to where the groom held onto the reins of two horses. The one on which George had ridden was Hermes, a bay stallion with black stockings and a white blaze between his eyes. The other, Anne’s horse, was a small, gray Irish walker named Graydon.