The Angel of an Astronomer Read online

  She and George hadn’t discussed a possible wedding date. At the moment, she wished it could be soon, but knowing how involved arrangements could be for weddings—the reading of the banns, the ceremony, the breakfast, and the wedding trip—she doubted anything would happen before the spring.

  “So... he did propose,” Gabe said, not making it a question. “With Father’s permission?”

  Anne’s eyes widened, and she suddenly felt fearful. “I’m not at liberty to say,” she replied, returning her attention to her embroidery.

  Gabe let out a sound of annoyance. “Not at liberty?”

  “I made a promise, and I am keeping it,” she stated.

  “I can just ask Father,” he countered.

  “Then I suggest you do,” she dared, managing to keep her doubt from showing as she lifted her chin.

  Had Hexham even asked for permission to marry her? He had to have had permission to take her for the ride in the park—her father had been right there when he came for her.

  But had he taken the next step?

  And if or when he did, what would her father say?

  “I will ask Father,” Gabe stated. “Just as soon as Hexham leaves his study,” he added, a brilliant smile replacing his look of suspicion.

  As Anne’s mouth dropped open, Gabe stood up, gave her a bow, and took his leave of the salon.

  Left to wonder what her father was doing to the poor Viscount Hexham in his study, Anne set aside her embroidery and hurried out to the hall.

  When she saw that the door to the study was closed, she took a seat in a nearby chair to wait.

  Perhaps she could get to her father before Gabe did.

  Chapter 30

  A Night with a Knight

  Later that night

  When Muffin McDuff Paddlepaws barked shortly after dinner, as Angelica expected he might, she dismissed her maid and parted the drapes in her bedchamber. The skies were remarkably clear, and a rectangular red light indicated the dome was open.

  Donning a redingote over her warmest woolen gown, and pulling on two extra petticoats, gloves and half-boots, Angelica regarded her reflection in the cheval mirror. The extra layers made her bottom half appear almost rotund, but the evening was cold. Far colder than it had been the first night she had paid a call on the astronomer.

  She made her way down the back steps, attempting to hold her skirts closer to her body lest she get stuck in the tight stairwell. She could just imagine getting wedged in and then having to wait for a servant to help dislodge her.

  Getting through the back door was nearly as difficult, but once her coat was free, she quietly shut the door and hurried out to the back gate. The crisp air had her breaths billowing out in white clouds, reminding her of winters spent near Hexham, when her father would take the family on sleigh rides.

  When she made it to the observatory, she slipped through the door, once again having to pull her redingote through the slim opening. When the door was shut, she moved to the base of the stairs and called out, “Mr. Fulton?”

  Ben, bathed in the red light, appeared in the opening at the top of the stairs, a top hat and muffler joining his greatcoat and gloves for warmth. A smile split his face. “Ah, my lady,” he said as he waved for her to join him. “I feared you wouldn’t come, but I’m so glad you have. This cold is the best for viewing nebulae,” he added.

  When Angelica topped the stairs, she realized at once there might be a problem. With the additional petticoats, her skirts stuck out farther than normal. She seemed to take up all the available floor space. “Muffin barked, so I knew you were up here,” she said, “But I fear I may be in your way far more than I was before,” she added, as she dipped a curtsy. She turned and noticed how there was now a railing along the opening for the stairs. At least she wouldn’t accidentally tumble down the curved stairs should she back up too far. “If you’d rather I not be here, please tell me. I will not take offense.”

  Ben shook his head and took her gloved hands to his lips. “Oh, but I do want you here,” he countered. “I rather like the company. Your company,” he stammered as he gave a bow.

  Angelica’s eyes widened a fraction. “If you’re sure I’m not in your way—”

  “Before the other night, I never had someone pay a call on me whilst I was stargazing,” he said in a quiet voice. “Other than the butler, when he brings tea, of course, but he’s never indicated an interest in even looking through the telescope.” His brows suddenly furrowed. “Your dog barked?”

  Angelica nodded. Glancing in the direction of the instrument, Angelica saw that it was aimed midway up in the sky to the south, right at Orion’s Belt. “You mentioned nebulae,” Angelica hinted. “Is there one in particular…?"

  “Oh, yes. Here. Come look.”

  He moved to a different chair from the one that had been in front of the telescope before, this one with castors. The original was still there, and he quickly moved it so it was next to the one with wheels.

  “It’s all different,” she murmured as she took a seat. The opera glasses were no longer strapped to the side of the telescope, and instead a small telescope was attached. A finder scope, she remembered him saying.

  “Improved, yes,” he said with a proud grin, taking the chair next to her.

  Angelica stared through the eyepiece and inhaled softly. “What is this?”

  “The Orion Nebula. I was just about to turn the dome and look for the Beehive Cluster when you arrived.”

  She allowed her gaze to linger on the strange sight, staring at the nebula and allowing a sound of appreciation until the pinkish-white flower shape left the field of vision.

  Just as she was about to get up from the chair, she realized he had drawn the nebula on the easel-mounted paper. “Oh, you’ve captured it perfectly,” she said in a whisper.

  “I’ll add a bit of color on the morrow,” he replied as he stood up from the other chair. He took a hold of the dome-turning handle and gave a push. This time, the dome rotated easily. “Your suggestion works, by the way.”

  “Oh?” Angelica stood up and moved to the edge of the room, watching as the wheels turned in their track.

  “Beeswax. Even when it’s cold, it seems to do the trick for those wheels that were sticking.”

  Angelica gave a nod. “Except that Muffin McDuff Paddlepaws barked a bit ago. That’s how I knew you were in here.”

  Ben paused in his adjustments and regarded her a moment. “I wondered at that when you mentioned it, but having given it some thought, I believe he heard me open the dome’s door,” he explained. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anything that can be done for its track. At least not from down here.” He turned his attention back to the telescope. “I’m looking forward to dinner on the morrow.”

  “As am I,” she replied. “I was happy to receive your reply.”

  He made an adjustment and then said, “I know the invitation said it was from your brother, but, pray tell, how did he think to invite me? We’ve not even met.”

  Angelica blushed, hoping the red light wouldn’t enhance her embarrassment. “I... I may have encouraged him in that regard,” she lied. She hadn’t told George she was going to invite their neighbor, but she had included his name on the list of those who had replied that they would attend. “Seeing as how you’re our new neighbor and there are so few entertainments in London during the winter months.”

  He nodded his understanding and then indicated she should again look through the lens. She leaned forward and allowed a brilliant smile. “It looks like a swarm of bees!”

  Ben grinned. “Hence the name, I suppose,” he murmured, taking his turn at the eyepiece. “Pray tell, is this dinner in honor of a special occasion? Or a special guest?”

  Straightening, Angelica allowed a sigh and watched as he continued to make adjustments using the small dials. “There was a guest my father wished us to invite. Apparently he thought it important we meet him.” She decided not to mention why. “But he has sent his regr
ets,” she added with a shrug.

  “He must have been someone of great importance if your father wanted you to meet him,” Ben remarked, taking a turn at staring through the eyepiece.

  “I suppose,” she replied. When Ben lifted his head and regarded her with an arched brow, Angelica allowed a sigh. “He thinks the gentleman would make a suitable husband for me.”

  Ben furrowed a brow. “And you do not?” he half-asked, the telescope forgotten.

  Angelica gave a shake of her head. “Oh, I’ve no idea. I’ve never met the man, and neither has my brother. Truth be told, we’re both a bit curious, and so we were looking forward to at least meeting him.” She gave a shrug. “Perhaps some other time.”

  Ben continued to regard her a moment. “You don’t seem particularly... saddened by his having sent his regrets. Was he... perhaps not of suitable rank?”

  Furrowing a brow, Angelica shook her head. “I...” She sighed again, her gaze lifting to meet his. “Whether or not he has a title matters not. At least, not to me.”

  Blinking, Ben stared at Angelica and allowed a sound of disbelief. “But... you’re an earl’s daughter. Certainly your father expects you to marry an aristocrat.”

  Angelica dipped her head. “Even if I decided to marry a commoner, my father has assured me he would give his blessing. That is, if the gentleman is sincere in his regard for me and not just after my dowry. Father wants nothing more than for me to be happy,” she explained.

  Ben regarded her for a time before he swallowed. “So, if someone... someone such as me were to ask his permission to court you, he would have it?”

  Angelica inhaled softly. “Of course,” she breathed.

  “And you would welcome my attentions?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” she whispered.

  When his gaze darted up, her own followed to discover a sprig of mistletoe dangling from the very top of the dome. A moment later, and she was leaning over so her lips could meet his, her gloved hands resting on his shoulders as one of his hands moved to her waist.

  Despite the layers of fabric, Angelica was sure she felt the heat of his hand warming her entire body. His lips were soft but firm as he angled his head to better capture hers. Their breaths mingled, warming the air around their faces. The soft moan that sounded after a moment might have been from her or from him or from both.

  The swirl of cold air that drifted up from the stairs was most definitely Peters with the tea tray.

  Ben was the first to pull away, but he did so slowly, leaving his forehead pressed against hers. “Thank you, my lady,” he murmured. He straightened just before Peters appeared at the top of the stairs. “Ah, and our tea has arrived just in time for a look at the Beehive Cluster.”

  As before, Peters didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see Lady Angelica. “My lady,” he said, giving her a slight bow.

  “Good evening, Peters. I can pour the tea,” she offered, knowing she best stay seated until the butler had made his way downstairs. There simply wasn’t room for all three of them at the escritoire.

  “Very good. Shall I wait up for you, sir?”

  Ben gave a shake of his head. “No need, Peters. See you in the morning.”

  Peters gave another bow in Angelica’s direction and made his way down the stairs. His exit was accompanied by another swirl of cold air and the thunk of the door closing.

  Angelica stood up and moved to pour the tea, remembering Ben’s preference for no milk or sugar. And yet the tea tray included both a creamer and a sugar-pot. “How do you suppose he knew I was here this time?” she asked as she handed him a cup and saucer.

  Ben allowed a grin. “I may have expressed my hope that you would join me.”

  Preparing a cup of tea for herself, Angelica felt a wash of warmth at the thought that he had been thinking of her as much as she had been thinking of him. “You could have sent a note.”

  “I thought I did,” he countered.

  Angelica regarded him with a look of surprise before she remembered he had written that she would be welcome again when he responded to the invitation to dinner. “You did,” she agreed.

  “Are you expecting a crowd for dinner?”

  “There will be just twelve of us, I’m afraid,” she said with a hint of disappointment. “So many of my friends are with their families in the country for Christmastide, while George’s friends are all bachelors living here in town.” She watched as he turned dials on the telescope, the instrument barely moving as he did so.

  “Twelve is an excellent number for dinner. I remember my mother used to strive for twelve when she hosted dinner parties.” He motioned for her to take a look through the lens. “Let me know what you think of this one.”

  “Oh, it’s... it’s beautiful. A bit fuzzy, or perhaps cloudy is a better word for it. I love how it gets brighter in the center,” Angelica murmured. “Not at all like the Orion,” she added as she settled back in her chair. “What is it?”

  Ben took a quick look, a sigh of satisfaction sounding from where he leaned over to gaze through the eyepiece. “The Andromeda Galaxy,” he said, “which means I now have everything calibrated correctly.” He pointed to a ring surrounding the telescope and another along the side of it. “They are the measurements for longitude and latitude, and these...” he indicated a book. “Are star charts. I should now be able to easily locate anything in the northern hemisphere.”

  “Bravo,” Angelica replied before sipping her tea. When she sobered, Ben furrowed a brow.

  “What is it?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the main eyepiece. He replaced it with a different one and then turned his attention on the finder scope.

  “I admit to a quandary as to how I should introduce you tomorrow evening,” she replied.

  He tore his attention from the finder scope and regarded her a moment. “Well, as Ben Fulton, of course,” he replied.

  “But we’re not supposed to know one another,” she argued.

  “Oh, I see what you mean.” He motioned for her to take his place at the scope. “Now have a look,” he said, finishing off his tea and moving to place the cup and saucer back on the tea tray.

  Angelica bent down and peered through the lens, her breath held. The image was still of the Andromeda Galaxy, but now it appeared much larger. Closer. “Oh, Mr. Fulton. This is...”

  “Amazing, is it not? And do call me Ben. I should hope there’s no need for formality between us.”

  Angelica dipped her head. “Then you may call me Angel,” she murmured. “If you wish.”

  He leaned down and kissed her. When he pulled away, it was to say, “I should take you home.”

  “Now?” she asked, obviously disappointed.

  “If I do not take you home now, my darling Angel, you’ll end up quite thoroughly ruined, and I’ll be called out by your brother and forced to meet him in Wimbledon Common with pistols at dawn.”

  My darling Angel. She hadn’t heard it said quite like that before, but she liked how it sounded. “George wouldn’t dare challenge you,” she argued. “He’s a terrible shot, and he doesn’t fence.”

  “Good, because I’m a terrible shot and not much better with a sword. Remember, I haven’t yet written that particularly important letter.”

  Her eyes widening, Angelica knew immediately to whom the letter would be addressed. “Even without a sword, I see your point,” she replied.

  He allowed a smirk at hearing her pun and secretly wondered if she possessed a greater sense of humor than she had displayed so far. “Thank for paying a call this evening,” he said as he offered his arm.

  Ben escorted her back to Worthington House, once again by way of the back alley. He assisted with pushing her skirts through the back door opening, his grin threatening to erupt into laughter before she and her skirts were finally over the threshold.

  “Sleep well,” he murmured, before he settled a quick kiss on her lips. Then he made his way back to Bradford Hall knowing Angelica watched, a mix of elation and dread te
mpering his good mood.

  Chapter 31

  A Father-Daughter Talk

  Earlier that afternoon, outside Trenton’s study in Trenton House

  The door to Trenton’s study opened, and George Grandby turned to regard his host for a moment. “I do not mind if you would require me to court her longer,” he said to the man who would one day be his father-in-law.

  “I do not believe it will make much difference,” Trenton replied. “You will still marry her.”

  “She could change her mind,” George suggested. “Discover there are others who find her as perfect as I do,” he added, frowning when he realized he shouldn’t be providing reasons for the earl to change his mind.

  “She won’t find another as well suited as you,” Trenton argued. “And she won’t change her mind,” he added with a shake of his head.

  George inhaled. “If you’re sure.” He shook the earl’s hand again. “Now I suppose I need to devise the perfect proposal,” he murmured.

  “Keep it simple,” Trenton said quietly. “Aren’t you hosting a dinner party on the morrow?”

  “I am.”

  “Perhaps you could ask her after the rest of your guests have taken their leave?”

  George’s eyes widened. “I could,” he replied quietly. “Thank you, sir.”

  With that, George gave Trenton a slight bow and stepped out of the study. He made his way to the vestibule, never turning to see that the subject of their discussion sat only a few feet from the door to her father’s study.

  A swirl of chilled air passed by Anne as Viscount Hexham took his leave of Trenton House.

  She was staring at the caryatid across the hall from where she sat, wondering at the vase that was perched on it. Usually empty, it now held at least a dozen roses of various colors.