No Place for a Dame (5 page)

No matter now. What would be must be.

But first there was something she needed to do.

“Avery?” Strand’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“There is something I want very badly,” she said. “I would like you to help me obtain it. But not because of some long-paid debt your father incurred but because
you
owe me.” For some reason this was important. “Do you agree?”

He reached out, refilled his wine glass and regarded her for a long moment before taking a sip. “What matter?” he finally murmured. “Why not?” He tipped the wine glass in her direction in a toast. “I am obliged to you. Ask what you will.”

She closed her eyes, her head swimming with the abrupt release of tension. She hadn’t realized until now how very much this meant to her. It would be the only thing she might ever have to show for her years of study, tangible proof that she’d achieved something through all her hard work. That her education had mattered. That she
was
someone. She was special.

She exhaled unsteadily and opened her eyes to find him studying her curiously.

“What do you want, then?”

She hopped off the table, picking up the discarded wig and tucking it under her arm. “I’d rather show you.”

He set his glass down and rose to his feet. “Lead on.”

Chapter Four

A
very led the way down the castle’s long central corridor to the base of Killylea’s east tower, where the old marquess had converted what had once been a guards’ room into her study. Since her arrival back from Ghent several months ago, she’d once again taken possession of the room, and now star maps and books, prisms and lenses, navigation instruments and polishing stones covered the tables lining the walls.

She heard Giles murmur, “What are you up to now?”

She motioned him to follow her up the steep spiraling staircase that led to the tower’s upper room, a tiny sentry’s apartment. The brazier she had lit earlier that afternoon still held enough live coals to heat the small space and it was warm inside. A large telescope set on a wheel-driven platform stood against the wall, leaving little room for anything else.

She opened the door to the ramparts outside and at once an icy blast of wind hit them, whipping her hair around her face and plastering the lawn gown tight against her body. She barely noted the cold, too excited by the prospect of sharing her discovery.

With a muttered oath, Giles shed his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

She gave him a quick, distracted smile before tipping her face to the cloud-clotted sky and searching the heavens.

“What are you looking for?”

She didn’t answer, her concentration being wholly overhead… There! She spun about, elbowing her way past him and back into the sentry’s room, returning a moment later rolling the telescope ahead of her.

She pushed it into position next to the crenelated wall and peered into the eyepiece. Carefully, she began turning the rings orienting the various lenses. And then all at once, the night sky opened up around her, unfolding before her eyes and she was falling through the firmament, swimming in an ocean of brilliant pinpoints, white and pinkish, palest blue and tinted green, and, darting amongst them like silvery minnows, dozens upon dozens of shooting stars.

It took her breath away now just as completely as it had the first time she’d looked through a telescope.

“Look,” she said. “Quickly, before the clouds cover it.”

Giles bent to the eyepiece. She watched him intently, alert to his every movement, willing him to experience something of her awe. When he didn’t speak she reached out impatiently to adjust the scope but he brushed her hand away and leaned closer.

She heard the quick intake of his breath. He looked up.

“What am I seeing?”

She gave him the same reverence-touched answer her own teacher had given her when she’d asked the same question all those years ago. “The playground of God.”

His glance was quick and sardonic.

She cleared her throat, embarrassed to have been caught rhapsodizing. “Or you might also call it a meteor shower.”

He turned back to the lens. “Impressive.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I wanted you to see.” She restrained herself from edging him out of the way and retaking possession of the telescope. He was warm. She could feel the heat radiating out from his tall, broad-shouldered body and checked the impulse to move closer. “Pretend the center of the field is the middle of a clock. Now look where the minute hand would be if it were
not quite
ten minutes past the hour. Follow that imaginary line in about a third of the distance to the center.

“Do you see? A barely visible ball of light just a shade larger than those around it? It will look fuzzier than the others, too, and you might just make out a little plume of pinkish light behind it.”

He frowned, peering closer before stilling. He did not lift his head, but she could see in profile his lips move in a smile.

“Yes. I see. What is it?”

“My comet,” she said.

Chapter Five

G
iles straightened, inspecting her as if she were indeed an inmate of Bedlam.

“It’s my comet and I am going to keep it,” Avery repeated. “And you are going to help me.”

“I see. Shall I take the barouche or will it fit in the phaeton?”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

He raised an elegant brow. “Do I?”

With a muttered imprecation, she pushed him out of the way and dipped her head to look once more through her telescope. “I discovered her,” she whispered. “She’s mine.”

“You
discovered
it? You are certain?”

She glanced up to find him studying her closely. Though Giles might know little about the science of stargazing, he clearly understood that amongst astronomers such a claim would carry considerable weight.

Avery straightened. “Yes. I found her three years ago in Austria when I was studying with Herr Vandervort. It won’t reappear again until 1821.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, as much to bolster her confidence as to keep the driving wind from finding her bare flesh. He
reached up and tucked his coat collar closer about her. “You’re cold. We should continue this conversation inside—Good God, your feet are bare! Are you purposely seeking death or was what I witnessed downstairs not an imitation of madness but the real thing?”

“No. I just—”

He scooped her up into his arms before she could finish. Startled, she gasped and clutched him around the neck. “Let me go!”

He looked down at her, something heated and elemental glittering in his eyes. She had to be imagining it. Giles had no more interest in her than he did in Mrs. Bedling. He was holding her only because he’d been trained since birth to be all but incapable of witnessing a woman’s discomfort without acting. And the intensity in his mercury-bright gaze? He was a rake; that’s how a rake looked at a woman. Any woman.

“Soon enough.” He strode back into the sentry’s room, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Put me down.”

“Of course.” His gaze held hers as he released her and she slid down his length. She felt every hard inch of that journey and when her toes finally found the ground for a second she feared her legs wouldn’t hold her. But they did.

She backed away. She couldn’t go far. The room was too small, providing barely enough room to turn without brushing against him. The only light came from the glowing brazier at their feet and the starlight glimmering intermittently through the square window cut high in the wall. It molded his face in shadows, sparked his eyes with silver.

He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, looking down at her. “What do you mean you plan to ‘keep’ your comet?”

Gratefully, she returned her attention to the matter at hand. The moment had come for her to reveal her plan. After that it would be up to him. He would either help or refuse her. She
had
to convince him this was the only way.

“I intend to present my discovery to the Royal Astrological Society. In six weeks they convene for their winter meeting, at which time I estimate my comet’s visibility will be well past its zenith but still visible.”

He nodded. “I see. And you need me to escort you to the meeting? Perhaps to set you up in accommodations for the duration of your stay?”

“No.”

“Of course not. That would be too easy.” He sighed. “What then?”

“I mean to become a member of the society and submit my research on the comet to their board. Such a discovery should all but guarantee my being presented with the society’s Hipparchus medal
and
its attendant monetary award.” She smiled. “And then I will be able to continue my research.”

“I’m sure that will be most gratifying. But I don’t see how this involves me. Unless… do you think I can somehow influence the membership?” His lips twisted into an acerbic smile. “Well, of course. That’s the way of things. You’ll have to provide me with a list of names—”

“No!” she burst out, appalled. “No! That’s not what I want! I would never ask you to try to influence people into voting for me. It isn’t ethical.”

“Ethical,” she heard him murmur in an odd voice. She could not see his expression any more. The clouds had covered up the slice of star-strewn skies and it was dark. “My mistake. But how was I to…” He laughed softly. “But now I am even more at a loss as to my role in all this. How exactly am I to aid you?”

She took a deep breath. “The Hipparchus medal is an annual prize bestowed on the man making the most significant contribution to astronomical study in the preceding year.”

“Man.” He repeated the pertinent word.

“Yes. Only gentlemen are invited to join the society.”

He hesitated. “So you wish me to stand in for you?”

The idea horrified her even more than his proposed use of influence. “Good heavens, no. You wouldn’t last five minutes of interrogation by men of their expertise.”

She saw his teeth glint in the darkness. “Come now. I have every confidence I should last six.”

“No.”

“Then I do not see any way for you to achieve your goal. Unless you mean to change gender…” He trailed off. “You mean to try to pass yourself off as a man, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Yes.”

“And you want me to support you in this outlandish charade? Even though if we are discovered it could mean banishment from Society?”

She lifted her chin. “I am not
in
Society.”

He pushed off the wall and the glow from the embers in the brazier caught his profile from beneath, illuminating him like a portrait of the fallen angel he so resembled. “I am.”

Heat piled into her face. Of course, she’d considered that when she’d formulated her plan. She understood that what she was asking could damage his reputation, but after having read about his exploits in the penny press for years, she was also fairly certain that any harm would be negligible and that he was the sort of golden being whose misdeeds the gods forgive and mere mortals celebrate. Still, that didn’t make her request any less presumptuous. It was unforgivably audacious to ask and she knew it.

But oh! How very,
very
much she wanted this.

What could she say to make him agree? What promises could she make? What did she have to barter with? Nothing. She could only give him the truth.

“I want this. More than anything,” she said, moving closer and tilting her head back to search his shadowed face,
willing
him to understand. “My discovery will stand on its own merit. If some other person has a greater claim to that award than me I shall be the first to congratulate him.

“But I
deserve
it. I do not want the money for carriages or dresses or frivolities. I want it so that I can continue to work.
My
work. And yes, I know you could easily finance me and would probably do so if only to force me to sign a document promising never to darken your door again.” She gave him a twisted smile. “But it’s more than the prize money. It’s what it means. It’s… recognition.”

She was so intent in making her plea that she didn’t realize her hand had risen to lay against his heart in unconscious supplication. His dark gaze fell on it and lifted slowly to hers. Her fingers curled into a fist against his hard chest. She could feel his heart beat, deep and steady.