The Angel of an Astronomer Page 2

Tempted to tell her the plan, Milton instead inhaled slowly. “I think Wadsworth and I have worked out a solution that will benefit us both,” he said, as he signed his name to the letter. “In the meantime, I’m thinking I’d like you all to myself for Christmas this year.”

  Adele’s eyes widened. She was used to hearing similar comments from her horny husband when they were home at Worthington House in Mayfair, but never this time of the year. Not when they were at Torrington Park in Northumberland. Not when there was a foot of snow and the possibility of family sleigh rides to Hexham every day. Not when Christmas was still over a month away. They’d only just made the trip from London five weeks ago. “But, what do you intend to do with our children?”

  “Our twenty-one-year-old twins can go back to London. ’Bout time we kicked them out of the nest, don’t you think?”

  Blinking, Adele looked as if she was about to faint. “Milton!”

  “George needs to meet with the solicitor and prepare for Parliament in March. Angel needs to learn how to run a household,” he said as he stood up to join her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “They can live at the house in Mayfair,” he said just before he nibbled on her ear and then sprinkled kisses along her jawline. “And we may or may not join them in the spring.”

  His lips covered hers, and he thrilled when she moaned and one of her hands moved to his head, her fingers spearing his silken hair. Meanwhile, his hands had moved down to cup the globes of her bottom, pulling her firmly against the front of his tightening breeches.

  When he finally ended the kiss and straightened, he added, “George can act as chaperone for Angel. What say you?”

  Her eyes darting to one side, Adele blinked a couple of times. “Who are George and Angel?” she whispered, although a grin teased the edge of her lips.

  Milton shut the door to the study and kissed her again, rather glad there was a comfortable sofa only a few feet away.

  It was another hour before they rang for tea.

  Chapter 2

  Twins on a Train

  Late November, 1838, somewhere in Yorkshire

  The gentle sway and measured clacks she felt beneath her half-booted feet would usually send Lady Angelica into a state of blissful sleep. Only the occasional sound of a steam whistle or the abrupt stop of the train car might jolt her from her nap.

  On the latter occasions, she could count on her twin brother, George, to catch her should she be dislodged from the leather-covered seat and sent pitching forward.

  She rather doubted he could be counted on for such a chivalrous act on this day, though. From the time they had boarded the train in Northumberland, George’s attention had been directed out the window to his right. Seated across from him, Angelica sensed he wished to say something of importance but couldn’t seem to muster the courage.

  Or perhaps just the words.

  “You have kept me on pins and needles for at least an hour—”

  “We only left the station a few minutes ago,” George interrupted, a clear indication he wasn’t woolgathering as he was staring out the window. “Besides, I thought you would be asleep by now.”

  “I’m not yet bored,” she replied. “Are you nervous?”

  George furrowed a brow. “About what?”

  Angelica gave him a quelling glance. “Parliament, of course.” She knew part of the reason they were making their way back to London was so that he could accept a writ of acceleration and take a seat in the House of Lords in the spring. When their father, Milton Grandby, Earl of Torrington, announced that at the age of six-and-sixty he no longer needed to attend sessions of Parliament, George hinted it was because the Whigs had won the general election the year before.

  My work is done, Angelica could imagine Father saying.

  Angelica had resisted the urge to remind the earl he was really seven-and-sixty. She was his favorite daughter—his only daughter, really—and she wanted to remain in his good graces.

  “I am not nervous,” George stated. “But I wish to be prepared. Besides, I have to meet with the solicitor and...” He sighed, “See to another matter.”

  The mention of the solicitor had Angelica’s thoughts going to their fortunes.

  Her fortune, for she had recently reached the age her father had deemed appropriate for her to claim her inheritance. She hadn’t yet done so, mostly because she hadn’t yet decided what she wanted to do with it.

  Her mother, Adele Slater Worthington Torrington, had a fortune because of her first husband’s involvement with the early steamships.

  Her father’s fortune was because the earldom always did well financially, but also because Milton’s cousin, Gregory, was a master at making money. The man seemed to know exactly which ventures to invest his funds in, or he helped create what he knew should exist.

  In fact, part of the money that had been used to build the very train and tracks on which they now traveled had been from Gregory’s investment. There were other new railways that also benefitted, including the Great Western Railway, the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway, and the London and Birmingham Railway, which had all opened earlier that year.

  Claiming his children would share equally in his good fortune meant Gregory’s estate would be split eleven ways, but even so, every one of Angelica’s ten first cousins, once removed, and their mother, Christiana, would one day be rich.

  Angelica would be rich, too, but mostly because she and her twin brother were the only children of Milton and Adele.

  Although the bulk of the Torrington family fortune would end up with George, Angelica didn’t begrudge him his right. He was the one who was going to have to take over the Torrington earldom, after all. See to the business of running it—he already was, to some extent—and acting for all intents and purposes as if he were already the earl and not just an honorary viscount.

  Since the current Countess of Torrington had no intention of leaving her husband to go back to London for the Season—despite being married for two-and-twenty years, her parents were still hopelessly and embarrassingly in love with one another—Angelica had agreed she would take on the duties of hostess for her brother while they were in the capital.

  Given the Season wasn’t going to start for several months, she was stunned when George announced just two nights ago and during the dessert course that she and he were leaving the Torrington ancestral home near Hexham to spend a few months in the capital before the rest of the aristocracy descended on London.

  “But... why?” she had asked, incredulous. They had spent every Christmas Day at Torrington Park for their entire lives.

  “I will explain it all on the way,” George replied, uncharacteristically silent for the rest of the meal. Then he and their father had disappeared into the billiard room to enjoy their port and a game or two before bed.

  “What is this about?” she had asked her mother.

  Adele had replied with a slight shrug. “A surprise of sorts. I wasn’t let in on it, though, but your father has obviously been scheming with your brother.”

  “And you let them?” She remembered her alarm at hearing her brother and father had planned something together—the two weren’t particularly close.

  Dimpling, her mother had leaned forward and said, “Any time those two are together is a good thing.”

  Which was true. Angelica had always been her father’s favorite, because he had wanted a daughter before an heir. Having twins meant he got what he wanted and what he needed all at once.

  Afraid her husband would ignore George, Adele had seen to providing extra attention to her only son. She often wondered if Milton didn’t know how to behave with a son because his own father hadn’t spent much time with him before he died. Milton had inherited the Torrington earldom when he was but sixteen years old.

  Then Adele had leaned over and added, “Especially since they’re working on a surprise.”

  Angelica had relaxed at hearing those words, if only because her father’s surprises were alw
ays the best.

  Angelica had been patient. She hadn’t asked but that one question of her brother since his announcement. But now that nearly every gown, slipper and frippery she owned was packed into trunks and they were on the train to London, she wanted answers.

  “What’s this early trip to London all about?”

  Chapter 3

  A Homecoming Over Tea

  Meanwhile, in Mayfair

  Sarah Wellingham, Countess of Trenton, stared out the front window of the richly-appointed Trenton House in Curzon Street and sighed. Just outside, two footmen were seeing to unloading several trunks from a traveling coach, and behind her, a maid had just set down a tea tray.

  Her daughter, Anne, would see to pouring, eager to practice the steps so that she would be ready to host callers when she had a household of her own.

  The moment Anne’s older brother, Gabe, entered the front parlor, Sarah turned and her gloomy disposition dissipated. She allowed a brilliant smile. “I am so happy to see you,” she said as Gabe quickly approached and kissed her on the cheek. She in turn pulled him close and hugged him hard.

  Taken aback by her greeting, Gabe’s blue eyes darted to one side. “You as well, Mother,” he replied as he pulled away. “It’s only been... a few weeks since I last saw you,” he added.

  Although she never looked as if she aged, he noted a few gray strands in the honey blonde hair that was rolled into an elegant bun atop her head. A gold filigree bracelet dotted with sapphires encircled the wrist at the base of her right hand. His father had given it to her as a means to remind her she was a countess when they wed, and now it was worn from years of wear.

  “I did not expect to miss you as much as I did,” she replied, another sigh escaping as she studied her oldest son.

  At three-and-twenty, Gabe had matured into a younger version of his father, complete with the blond curls and blue eyes that had Sarah remembering when the young man had been conceived.

  She had almost felt ashamed of herself that evening, but the sovereigns she had accepted from the new Earl of Trenton for a tumble and a few minutes of conversation were much needed at the time.

  She often wondered what life would have been like if Gabriel Wellingham had not returned to The Spread Eagle Inn to seek her help in his pursuit of a wife. What life would have been like if he hadn’t discovered he had fathered a bastard son during their first encounter.

  She would no doubt still be managing the coaching inn, much as she had continued to oversee its operation well after she agreed to wed the earl.

  Helping Gabriel Wellingham run the Trenton earldom proved much the same as running a business, which she continued to do between the births of two more babies.

  Legitimate children.

  Gabe’s younger brother, William, was away at university and would one day inherit the earldom. His sister would finally be making her come-out during the upcoming Season.

  Anne was already scheduled to be presented before Queen Victoria, the reason the family had returned to London earlier than they would have otherwise. A court gown had to be created by a modiste, and reports from other mothers of young ladies had Sarah realizing the project might take more than a month to accomplish.

  If only the gown could be worn to a ball or two after the court presentation! Unfortunately, the queen required a court gown that would have been suitable to wear to a ball in the century prior, which meant the gown they would be ordering later that week would be worn once and then packed away in a trunk and stored in the attic.

  Perhaps it might make an appearance as a costume during a house party or a masquerade ball.

  Such a waste!

  “If you remember, I was not pleased about leaving you behind when we left for Trenton Manor,” Sarah said as she stepped back and regarded Gabe. “You hadn’t been home from university for very long when we returned to Wolverhampton.”

  Gabe had finished his Ancient Greek studies at Cambridge and then, because he refused to live a life of leisure, he had accepted a position at the British Museum as an archivist, cataloguing artifacts that were shipped from the Continent on a daily basis. As a result, he was only in residence at Trenton House for breakfasts and dinners and to sleep.

  “I would have been home sooner today, but a kyathos arrived from Vulci today. Part of the same purchase that brought us an exquisite black-figured hydria last week. I had to unpack and catalogue it, which I was honored to do, of course,” he explained. “I am the first to see it before it goes on display.”

  Sarah noted the excitement in his eyes as he talked about his work, happy he had found a calling suitable for a man in his situation. “Remind me again what a kyathos is?”

  Gabe dipped his head and then formed his hands into a bowl shape. “A red-figured pottery.”

  “Oh,” Sarah acknowledged with a nod. “Did you get enough to eat?” she asked, continuing her perusal of her oldest son.

  He stifled the urge to laugh. “Yes, Mother. In fact, I think the cook continued to make meals as if you were all still here,” he complained as he patted his mid-section. Despite his words, he still displayed the physique of an active young man. “I have been forced to ride in the park at least once a day, and I’ve taken up fencing at Angelo’s Academy in St. James Street,” he added with a grin.

  The family had been in town for the Little Season, and all but Gabe had returned to Wolverhampton when sessions of Parliament ended in early November.

  Intending to stay in Trenton Manor near Bilston until Parliament resumed in the spring, Sarah’s husband, Gabriel, surprised them all when he announced he wished to spend Christmas in London. “We may as well, given Anne’s appointment with the queen. William can join us when his term is finished,” he had said when they were discussing where to celebrate Christmas.

  “Besides, this may be our last opportunity to spend the holiday together.”

  When Sarah questioned his comment, he reminded her that one or more of their children might be married before the following Christmas.

  “London is not as quiet as one would expect in the winter,” Gabe said as he led Sarah to her usual seat—a floral upholstered chair facing the brick fireplace. He waited for her to be seated before he took a chair across from his sister.

  “There are entertainments?” Anne asked as she handed a cup of tea to her mother.

  Gabe nodded. “The theatre, of course. The old Royal Sussex is now The Marleybone, and the Haymarket Theatre Royal is now featuring comedies exclusively.”

  Anne handed Gabe a cup of tea. “Where might one find marriage-minded men during the winter months?” she asked, her manner serious despite the glint in her eye.

  Blinking, Gabe let out a guffaw, nearly spilling his tea. “Is there such a thing as a marriage-minded man?”

  “Gabe!” Sarah scolded, although she might have at one time given the same response. She couldn’t help but grin.

  At that moment, Gabriel Wellingham, Earl of Trenton, strode into the parlor and then halted next to the chair in which Sarah was seated. “Rotten Row in the afternoons if it’s not too chilly. Shopping in Jermyn Street, a soirée or two,” he stated, in answer to his daughter’s query. “The National Gallery in Trafalgar Square is open now, and Almack’s will open again in late January,” he added, before he bent and kissed Sarah on the cheek. “Excuse my tardiness,” he whispered.

  Sarah couldn’t help the frisson that darted through her when his lips touched her ear. “You can make it up to me later,” she replied, a dimple appearing in one cheek.

  “Oh, I intend to,” he countered with a grin. In a louder voice, he said, “I have managed to read all my correspondence, but only found invitations for two winter balls and a musicale. I expect we’ll receive more once word makes its way down Park Lane that we have returned to London.”

  Despite his seven-and-forty years, Trenton’s once cherubic face still appeared youthful, and his blond curls barely showed a hint of gray. Although he had napped in the traveling coach most of t
he morning with Sarah’s head tucked into the small of his shoulder as his cheek rested atop her blonde coiffure, the overcast skies had him feeling more tired than usual.

  “Would you like tea, Father?”

  Trenton took the chair opposite of Sarah and said, “I would, indeed. And that Dutch biscuit, too.” He glanced at the three who sat around the low table, well aware they were as affected by the gray skies as he was. “As for marriage-minded men, we might discover one or two in the park. I know we’re all weary from travel, but when we are finished here, would you agree to a ride?”

  “Won’t it be dark soon?” Anne asked as she held out a cup for him, dimpling when she realized he had overheard her query.

  Trenton dared a glance out the front window and then to the mantle clock. “Well, not for a couple of hours. Perhaps just a quick tour down Park Lane and back? Maybe stop up the street and pay a call at Lily’s house?” he suggested. “Let her know we’re back in town?”

  His illegitimate sister, Lily, was married to William Overby, a broker from Wellingham Imports. They lived in a townhouse not far from Trenton House with their five children.

  “Oh, yes. I’d love to see my newest nephew,” Anne said with some excitement. “And a drive down Park Lane would be invigorating if we rode in the barouche.”

  Trenton allowed a grin, remembering how both of Lily’s daughters looked as if they could be Anne’s younger twins. Despite William Overby’s darker hair, all of the couple’s children were blonde and blue-eyed like their mother.

  “Gabe tells me there’s been more work done at Bradford Hall,” Anne said, her comment directed to her father.

  “There’s definitely a tall structure there,” Gabe offered, “As if there’s been a turret added onto the house. But since I don’t pass by there on my way to the museum, it’s been some time since I last saw it. Not sure if it was finished at the time, nor do I know if anyone has moved into the house.”