William Hampton, Viscount Worthe, glared at the nervous footman blocking the
..... “Jane tells me that you are an astronomer, my lord,” Liberty said once the new
...
A Slight Miscalculation By Deb Marlowe This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual
events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. A Slight Miscalculation Copyright © 2014 by Deb Marlowe Cover design by Lily Smith All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsover.
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The Half Moon House Series:
Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five About the Author The Half Moon House Series
Chapter One London 1814 William Hampton, Viscount Worthe, glared at the nervous footman blocking the doorway. “Say. That. Again,” he ordered. The footman swallowed, his eyes darting from Worthe’s frown to his clenched fists. “The young miss is not at home, sir.” He bit his lip and leaned forward, his manner confiding. “I don’t mean in the sense of not receiving visitors, sir. She’s not here at all.” The paper that had blighted his life crackled in his pocket as Worthe stiffened. “I believe I asked for J. M. Tillney.” He spoke slowly and clearly this time. “Yes, sir.” Now the footman looked at him as if he were the one with attics to let. “But as I said, she’s not here. She’s rarely home, lately.” “Do you mean to say that J. M. Tillney is a girl?” The footman began to look alarmed. “Wait.” Worthe pulled the letter from his pocket. “Lord Tillney franked this. This is his home, is it not?” “Yes, sir.” “And is there no one else in the house who might have signed a letter with that signature? Not the baron himself, but his heir? A ward?” He fought to keep the sudden desperation from his tone. “A nephew?” The footman drew himself straight. “I may be new to my post, sir, but I know the family. The young miss is the master’s only child, and the only one with those initials.” He glanced behind him, then motioned Worthe back, stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “I’m risking my place saying so, sir, but if that letter is indeed from Miss Jane, then I beg you will not mention it to anyone else. Her mother will have kittens, should she hear she’s written a gentleman she’s no acquaintance with. It’s not seemly.” Worthe frowned. “She did not write me directly. She sent the letter via the Astronomical Gazette. They passed it on to me.” “Begging your pardon, but Lady Tillney won’t hold with that, either. She don’t approve of Miss Jane’s scholarly interests, any more than she likes her spending so much time at Half Moon House. Says she’s ruining her chances at a husband.” A husband? Worthe’s humiliation doubled. All of his plans had been put in jeopardy by a debutante? A call sounded from inside. “That’s Wheats. I must get back to my post.” “Hold, please. Half Moon House, you said? Is it an astronomy society?” That would make sense. Already closing the door, footman merely shook his head. “But that’s where I’ll find her?” At the man’s quick nod, Worthe thrust out a hand to keep the door from closing. “Where is it located?” “Craven Street. Just ask—everyone in London knows the place.” Worthe turned on his heel, his mind spinning. An amateur enthusiast. Surely that explained it. But did it? He stopped at the end of the walk and glanced down at the damned note that had plagued him. Many congratulations on your discovery of the new asteroid. How thrilling for you. I read over your mathematics and ideas on the variations in Uranus’s orbit with interest. There
is a slight miscalculation on the second page, however. I thought you would like to know. He’d scoffed when it had first arrived. But uncertainty had haunted him. He’d checked all of his calculations again. It had taken him two days to find the mistake. Worthe had been furious. Humiliated. Despondent. How had he missed it? How had everyone else, at the Gazette and beyond? Truthfully, it didn’t destroy his plans, he just had to make adjustments. But the correction smarted. The casual ease with which his mistake had been pointed out set his teeth on edge. He’d become obsessed with meeting the man who’d sent the letter. He wasn’t sure if he wished to thank him or pop his cork for him, but he most definitely wanted to meet him. He’d left off his exhaustive work on his telescope, gathered his papers and come straight to London, purposefully not informing his mother of his arrival, so as to avoid the inevitable dragging forth of every unmarried chit of her acquaintance. And now he found that it was one of them he searched for. He crumpled the letter and threw it aside, stomping onto the pavement, vowing to put the incident behind him. But a few minutes later he was back, retrieving the damned thing, smoothing it out and tucking it away again. Half Moon House, indeed. The footman had been correct, the first hackney driver knew the place, although he gave Worthe an odd look when asked. Worthe climbed down when they arrived, paid the jarvey, and stood, contemplating the place. The townhouse looked ordinary enough, but the door was distinctive. The fan above had been carved with a half moon and a scattering of stars, all set with glass. A very pretty effect at night, he’d wager, when the light shone through. But he could not recognize the pattern of the stars. He snorted. A very amateur society, after all. His knock was answered immediately—by a girl wrapped in a sheet, one corner thrown over her shoulder. She beamed at him while he stared at the ivy in her hair and the waxed grapes tucked in the crook of her arm. Granted, he was largely out of touch with the ton and their interests, but this? He could not explain it. “Welcome, Mr. Middleton, sir! I am a nymph of the vine, handmaiden to Dionysus. Won’t you come in?” She opened the door wider. Frowning, he opened his mouth and stepped in—just as a call rang out. “I’m Diana, Goddess of the Hunt!” Suddenly, Dionysus’s handmaiden screamed. She jumped back as an arrow shot past her— and straight into Worthe’s shoulder. The impact knocked him back, he stumbled . . . and fell back, landing hard and grunting as his head struck the stone walkway. His last thought, as the light faded, was that he didn’t recognize the pattern of stars dancing overhead, either. “Oh, please, sir. Do wake up!” The stars were still there when he opened his eyes again.
Wait. Not stars. Sunbursts of gold in a pair of wide, green eyes. He blinked, still befuddled, but immensely relieved to find a recognizable pattern at last. Andromeda—the princess constellation—laid out clearly in the form of faint freckles across the bridge of a finely crafted nose. “Is that real?” His tongue felt thick, but he reached up to brush a soft cheek. He checked. His thumb remained clean and the freckles were still in place. “Oh, Molly.” The owner of the freckles drew back, worry etched across her pretty face. “You’ve addled his wits.” “No.” Worthe struggled to sit up. “I’m fine.” “I’m ever so sorry, sir!” Another young woman enveloped in white wrung her hands at his side, her bow discarded nearby. “I meant to hit the door!” She looked to Andromeda. “I’m so glad you made me blunt the end!” “As am I. The poor man will likely have a bruise, you shot with such force. But never mind. Let’s get him up.” The world tilted again as Worthe sat up. Mist rushed in to blur his vision. Groaning, he felt gingerly along the back of his skull. “Oh, that’s quite a lump!” Andromeda exclaimed. “Peggy, will you run for ice?” The nymph hurried away, leaving her grapes. Frowning, Worthe counted five young ladies surrounding him—all draped in white linen—except for his Andromeda. He squinted to see that she wore sprigged muslin in a light green that showcased those spectacular eyes and contrasted nicely with soft, chestnut curls. “Can you stand?” she asked. He nodded. A mistake, as nausea tried to wash over him, but he found it easy to ignore as she pressed close to help. The princess Andromeda possessed ample curves to go along with her sun-burst eyes and intriguing freckles. She held him steady as they made their way inside, never faltering as they passed through a wide entry and headed for a parlor on the right. “It makes sense, Andromeda,” he said through the fog. “You must have been both beautiful and strong to survive being chained and left for that monster.” “Oh, I’m afraid you are rattled, sir. I’m so sorry about all of this, Mr. Middleton. You’ve mistaken me. My name is Jane.” Alarm bells worsened the din in his head. Worthe abruptly stopped. Jane? “Mr. Middleton? Oh, sir. Mr. Middleton?” “Yes?” Worthe turned. Too suddenly. He groaned. He hadn’t made that answer. Another chap stood in the open doorway behind them, dressed like quality, foot tapping impatiently. “I’m here to see Hestia,” he announced. Andromeda looked between them. “You’re Middleton?” she asked the other man. “Then who—?” She eased Worthe down on a long, low sofa. “Never mind, now.” Dionysus’s handmaid returned with ice wrapped in a cloth and Andromeda . . . No, not Andromeda. “You said your name was Jane?” he rasped. She nodded and pressed the ice to his aching head. Worthe waited for anger to push back in, but it was no match for the disappointment churning up from his gut. His Andromeda must be Jane Tillney. “Sit a moment, please?” she asked. She turned to the other man. “I’m sorry, sir. Hestia Wright has been called away, and Callie Grant with her. I’m helping out as I can. Won’t you
come in? She told us of your play, though, before she left, and that you are looking for girls to travel with your company.” “Aye. Six girls to act as a sort of Greek chorus,” Middleton answered, his head bobbing enthusiastically. “Just a line or two each, nothing difficult. Bit parts only, they will deliver commentary on the action from the heavens above. But they’ll be counted full members of the company.” “And you’ll be performing first at Sadler’s Wells?” He nodded. “A couple of weeks to perfect our performance and then we set out. Late summer is prime for a travelling company. We’ll be back before the weather turns.” He ran an eye over the girls. They had grouped together, listening avidly. “I’ve others interested. Auditions are Thursday. I see you’ve heard you must provide your own costumes.” He sighed. “I do wish you’d come up with something different than the rest. Ah, well. Make them good. I imagine they’ll be the deciding factor.” He bowed low to Jane and grinned at the others. “Until Thursday!” The din that exploded in the room once he’d left had Worthe clutching his head again. “Did you hear that? We need better costumes!” “Miss Jane will help. She’s got us this far.” “I’ll carry wine instead of grapes!” “He said there’s more wanting the spots. Probably there’s no use in even trying.” “Oh, dear,” Miss Tillney said. “Now listen here, you lot!” Worthe winced again as Diana brandished her bow and raised her voice. “We’re doing this! I went with Middleton’s company last year. He does a proper job. No hedge inns or hayseed barns. Only sizable village fairs and towns with assembly rooms.” She glared around her. “Hestia got me the chance and it was the first time I made my own money and got to keep it. All of it,” she said with a significantly raised brow. “I got a few more roles besides, when I come back. And,” she paused to be sure of their focus, “We went out with seven last year and only four returned—‘cause three met nice, young farmers with harvest blunt in their pockets and an eye for a wife to occupy the winter.” A moment of dead silence quickly gave way to a cacophony of shrill exclamations. Worthe looked up to find Jane smiling fondly at the lot of them. “Surely you’re not running away with the troupe?” “No.” She smiled. “Can you hold the ice yourself now, Mr.—Wait! I still don’t know your name!” “But you are Miss Jane Tillney?” She nodded. “And this place?” She frowned. “You don’t know Half Moon House? Hestia Wright’s infamous home for women in need?” “I don’t get to Town often.” “Hestia and this place are known the world over.” He shrugged. “I don’t spend much time with people, either.” Her frown deepened. “How did you find—” “Tell me,” he interrupted. “Why do you help these women?” Solemn, she paused, watching the excited group. “Because everyone needs help sometimes.” The words hit him with nearly as much force as Diana’s arrow. His first instinct was to
dispute them. He got on very well on his own, without anyone’s assistance. He stopped. Did he? She’d helped him, too, hadn’t she? At least, he’d wager that was how she thought of that provoking letter. And maybe she’d been right. It was better to know about his mistake, now, was it not? He wanted to know how she’d found it. Why she’d written. He eyed her slim figure, the earnest lift of her chin—and knew there were other things he’d like to know as well. “Your name, sir?” she asked again. “Constellations.” “Excuse me?” “Constellations,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above the racket. “That’s what your costumes should be.”
Chapter Two Jane Tillney bit her lip, afraid the stranger had hit his head harder than she had thought. She hoped that was it—that he hadn’t been confused to begin with. What a shame that would be in a man so young, so broad of shoulder and lean of hip. She’d felt the hard planes and latent strength of him when she’d pressed to his side. A waste if his mind was not as sound as his body. The girls had quieted and looked at him with interest. “Commentary from the heavens, that’s what Middleton said you’d deliver. You don’t have to be Greek gods. You can be constellations.” Jane’s head lifted. “What is it?” someone asked. “Patterns in the sky, made of stars. Some are figures from mythology, like Hercules. Others are the swan, Aquarius, the water bearer, the northern crown . . .” “It’s brilliant!” Jane was caught up in the idea. “Ladies! Imagine long, rich cloaks of darkest blue, each with a different star pattern shining from it. A headdress of swan feathers on one, a silver crown, an urn . . .” Excited chatter burst out again. Beneath that bump lay a mind as sharp as his chiseled jaw, thank God. She looked directly into his dark, brown eyes. “Who are you?” He rose. Managed a bow with only a bit of a wobble. “William Hampton, Viscount Worthe, at your service.” Surprise caught her breath, and unease refused to let it go. That letter—she’d wondered if it would be taken badly. Watching his carefully blank expression, she doubted he’d come to thank her. She pushed all that away, though. Forced a bright smile. “Well, then! You are the perfect person to help us design.” She gestured toward the girls. “Will you lend a hand?” He kept his gaze fixed on her—and nodded. “Girls! Fetch paper and ink! We’ve new plans to make!” Lord Worthe was soon seated in the midst of them all, drawing constellations on a lap desk while she made notes about accessories and tried not to stare. He didn’t make it easy. The girls were thrilled to have the attention of a dashing nobleman —but his manner toward them looked . . . odd. As if he’d no experience with adoring young women. Highly unlikely. She bent back to work. “Silver ribbon, I think, to connect the stars as you’ve done.” She pointed as they finished the last of the patterns. “Girls, spread out. Here’s the list of supplies. Scrounge for everything you can find here, and I’ll see what I can do about the rest.” They scattered, and Jane was left alone with Lord Worthe. She took the drawings from him. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, sir. I think your idea will do the trick.” She tilted her head. “Likely I owe you an apology, as well. Yes? If you only wished to thank J. M. Tillney, a letter would have sufficed. Instead you’ve traveled to Town.” “I wanted to call him out, frankly. Then, perhaps, to question him. To thank him, finally.” He gestured. “I never thought to find . . . this.” She bristled. “A woman with a talent for mathematics?”
“It’s a surprise for a woman to pursue such advanced study, yes . . . but that’s the least of today’s surprises.” Laughing, she relented. “Yes. A duel is one thing, but being shot with an arrow is another. I hope you’ll forgive the girls their enthusiasm—and my interference.” “How did you find the miscalculation?” She shrugged. “Mathematics come easily to me. I picked it out right away.” She cocked a brow. “Truly, though, it was a small mistake—and the implications of your results are still fascinating. Those variations in the orbit—” His brows shot skyward. “You are truly interested in astronomy?” Jane nodded. “I was inspired by Caroline Herschel. Her discoveries, the work she’s done with her brother. It’s fascinating.” Lord Worthe pursed his lips. “Mathematics, astronomy—and this?” He gestured. Her expression hardened. “I have many interests, Lord Worthe. You would not be the first to disparage them.” He held out a hand. “I don’t disapprove. I’m in utter sympathy with anyone bucking Society to pursue their interests.” His mouth twisted into a grin that caught Jane’s breath. “I have a disapproving mother, too.” She gaped. “How did you know?” “Your footman—who also told me how to find you.” “Ah. Robert is new at his post.” She sighed. “My poor mother lives in fear I’ll turn off every eligible bachelor in the ton.” “Mine shares nearly the same fear. I refuse to bow to it. It’s only selfishness that has her so interested in my eventual marriage, in any case.” “Selfishness?” “My father died when I was young. Mother’s indulged in enough scandalous behavior since to prove she’s not worried for the title or family name. She only wants to be seen as a success in her maternal role. Instilled all the correct duties, you know.” He grinned. “And I’m convinced she wants to hold the reins in planning a grand wedding.” “I’m sorry.” His situation sounded worse than hers. “My mother is relentless, but I believe she only wishes me happy.” “If mine wanted me happy, she’d let me alone. She can’t be concerned with my future wife’s happiness either, to fob me off on her.” He bent her a look of commiseration that set Jane’s heart to pounding. “I have the advantage on you—I can wait to marry and suffer only mild censure. Good thing, too. I’m used to being alone. I’m too caught up in my projects and observations to inflict myself on some poor girl.” Jane had made it a practice never to hold back what should be said. She wouldn’t start now. “Perhaps you need only find a girl who shares your interests.” He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think such a creature exists. Certainly, in nearly three decades, I’ve never found her.” She breathed deep. Straightened her shoulders. “You have now.” “Miss Jane!” Peggy burst back into the parlor. “Hestia has a book in her office with the constellations listed. And one’s a princess!” Lord Worthe’s eyes remained locked with Jane’s. “I’m very sorry,” he said softly. “That one’s been taken.”
Chapter Three Misty rain dampened everything the next day, stealing color and turning everything grey as Worthe knocked at the Half Moon House door. He told himself that it was only an excuse to escape his mother—she’d invited herself to tea and he knew she wouldn’t come alone. If he had to spend the afternoon with a debutante, then Jane Tillney was right, he’d prefer one who knew a comet from a nebula. “Lord Worthe!” Peggy saw him over the burly butler’s shoulder as she passed in the hall. “Come in and see how well we are getting on!” Now that his vision was clear, Worthe noticed the wide entry had a parlor on either side. The left was filled with sewing, gossiping women. The right held Jane Tillney once more, crouching and finishing the trim on a completed robe. “Come in, my lord, and see,” she called. “The first one is finished!” Yesterday’s Diana had been transformed into the Archer. He paused and cocked a brow. “Is it safe?” “I promise not to shoot,” Molly said, sheepish. “But we did have the bow.” “You’ve outdone yourselves,” he said admiringly, stepping forward. The silver was striking against the deep blue. “It will look spectacular under the stage lights.” “I thought so, too,” Jane said. He spread his hands. “I’ve no skill with a needle, but I thought I’d see if there was a way I could help.” “There is! Your escort would be welcome.” Jane climbed to her feet, smiling at him, and suddenly Worthe was as out of breath as he’d been when he hit the walkway. “We’ve need of more fabric.” “I’d be delighted.” “Good. My carriage is out back.” She turned to the butler, who’d obviously been recruited to help. “Isaac, if you don’t object, I’ll take a groom along as chaperone.” The servant, carefully cutting multi-rayed silver stars, only nodded. Worthe helped her into a snug pelisse of fawn silk damask. He could barely take his eyes from her. She was lovely in an understated way, with soft curves and a ready smile. One had to look close to see the beauty of her eyes and her fine bone structure, and one had to spend time with her to enjoy that quick mind. Somehow the unassuming nature of her best qualities made them all the more precious. They spoke a little of the work still to be done as the carriage set out. And she thanked him once again. “I should thank you.” He grinned. “You’ve provided the perfect excuse to avoid my mother and her latest candidates for viscountess.” She didn’t return the smile. “I was thinking of what you said. Perhaps you might broaden your thinking when it comes to your mother. Take her perspective into account? Perhaps she only fixates on your marriage because it might give her a chance to spend time with you.” Worthe softened. “That’s a very generous notion.” He grimaced. “And yet unlikely. My mother never wished to spend time with me, unless her role as dutiful maternal figure might impress a friend or lover.” She shrank a little. “Oh.” He shrugged. “She’s very fashionable—and very changeable. As a child I lived in uncertainty. Which would it be, when we encountered each other? Would I be coddled, merely
acknowledged, or chased away?” Her eyes had gone wide. “I’m very sorry. It sounds . . . difficult.” There was a moment of silence as she stared out at the drizzle, then she turned back, expectantly. “You mentioned yesterday that you are usually absorbed in your work. Is it related to the observations in your article?” For the first time he was pleased to discuss his work in company. “Yes. Something is causing those orbital variations. I’m working now to build a telescope powerful enough to investigate. I believe I’ve narrowed down the right areas to search.” Her eyes lit up and something happened inside of him. A shift. An easing, perhaps, of some tight restriction. “Are you building it yourself? Grinding the mirror discs and all? I’ve read a little about the process.” He nodded. “It must be time consuming.” “Incredibly. And tedious, but I’ll know it was done right.” His mouth twitched. “My valet is in revolt, however.” “The emery powder? Ah, I can imagine. And when you come to the silvering—” They talked companionably as they arrived at the linen draper’s and Jane ordered several more yards of fabric. “Allow me,” he insisted, when it came time to address the bill. “Oh, how generous of you!” she said earnestly. “My pin money bought yesterday’s but this morning I had to raid the household cash Hestia left.” She clutched his arm in thanks. “And Hestia has so many uses for each shilling.” He stared, feeling the jolt of her touch vibrate along his spine, down into his heels, with a quick detour to his manhood. “Extra ribbon,” he said in an effort to distract himself. “We should pick that up too.” He fell silent as they started back, contemplating how different her life was from his. She was fully engaged with the world around her and so many of the people in it. His world was small, focused, quiet. Lonely. “The girls were hoping you might attend the audition,” she ventured after a while. “I’ll be there. Especially as I’ll have to miss the opening performance, should they win the parts.” “They’ll win. No doubt. Middleton said it would come down to the costumes and you’ve done a marvelous job.” He watched her expression. “Do you have plans for the evening of the opening?” “Yes, a ball at Lord Dayle’s. It’s one of the last occasions that will include the visiting foreign dignitaries. My mother is convinced that if I just try I can catch a German prince or a Russian count.” “I shouldn’t think you’d have to try,” he said quietly. “Thank you, but there’s no need for flattery.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I know it’s my duty to marry well. I shall. And you are right, likely long before you must.” She sighed. “Your words have been on my mind. It would be a very fine thing if even more women became interested in the sciences and astronomy, would it not? It would make it easier for you to find an acceptable potential bride, once you were ready.” Suddenly that far off, unsought-after day looked even bleaker. “But you know, when the time comes, you might wish to also enter into her interests.” She
looked away. “I know I haven’t given up the dream of finding someone who would be interested in helping me better the world.” He sat back, feeling some of the ease they felt together slipping away. He didn’t wish to think of her out in Society, looking for a man more compatible with her dreams and plans. And yet, he couldn’t possibly contemplate . . . the alternative. “Don’t misunderstand,” she asked. “I enjoy my life in Society. It’s just that there is so much more out there. So much to be done. There are many worthy people in need of help, and so many ways to make life brighter.” Her focus remained on the tiny drops moving across the window. “Shared interests—both ways—must surely make a marriage strong.” ‘Your word choice is interesting.” His mood was plummeting as they pulled up to Half Moon House. “I’ve found it hard to judge anyone as worthy—until now.” She ducked her head. “People are impulsive and often self-serving. I never feel comfortable with most of them. I never feel as if I truly know them. They are so . . . unpredictable.” He climbed down as the carriage door opened and turned to assist her. Her eyes were sad as they fixed on his face. For a moment they stared, fully experiencing this shared moment in time and space, knowing it was fleeting and feeling the pain of it. He bent over her hand and pressed a kiss there, feeling the heat of her skin through the kid. “Perhaps you’ll understand why I prefer to spend my time in the company of the stars. They are far more constant. Predictable.” Safe. He stepped away and bowed. “Goodbye, Miss Tillney. I hope to see you at the audition.”
Chapter Four Jane sternly forbade herself from watching for Lord Worthe. Mr. Middleton had given them excellent seats close to the orchestra pit, just a few rows behind his own seat. She watched him lean over to consult his assistant as the first group stepped onstage. If the viscount hadn’t arrived by now, then he probably wasn’t coming. “I’m Athena, goddess of wisdom.” The first girl stepped forward, a heavy book open in her arms. “Her dress is very fine, but the rest of them don’t match,” Miss Liberty Baylis, Jane’s friend, whispered in her ear. She’d brought Liberty, a young American new to London, to keep her company. Their mothers were becoming fast acquaintances, but Liberty had not had the chance to meet many people as yet. Jane had hopes of recruiting her help for Hestia—and of using her to prevent being too much alone with Lord Worthe. Not that it mattered, it turned out. “She’d have done better with an owl.” The soft comment came from behind, not beside her, making her jump. “Lord Worthe! You frightened me.” It was a fine excuse for her suddenly racing heart. “My apologies.” When the rest of the group had pronounced themselves and shown off their attire, after Middleton had bent to take notes, the viscount came around into their row and made his bow. “My lord, may I present Miss Liberty Baylis? Lord Worthe,” she indicated. He took her extended hand. “Liberty? How unusual—” “Yes, yes!” Liberty cut him off. “A most unusual name.” She rolled her eyes. “My parents are slightly daft.” “Liberty!” Jane laughed, scandalized. “It’s the only explanation. And they are lovely, even if they are a bit touched. Whoops!” She turned back to the stage. “Here’s the next set.” They were nearly identical to the first, save that Athena had been replaced with a cleverly constructed Medusa. “Jane tells me that you are an astronomer, my lord,” Liberty said once the new group had finished too. “How exciting.” “I’m afraid it’s rather the opposite.” He looked at Jane as he replied. “She says you’ve already discovered an asteroid and are on your way to bigger things. Surely all that will lead to respect and notoriety.” Liberty sparkled up at him and Jane suddenly began to regret bringing her along. “And that will certainly be exciting.” Jane wrinkled her nose. “And yet not a substitute for human interaction.” Her stomach flopped at the viscount’s suddenly dark expression. Plain speaking was fine, but she feared she’d just gone too far. “Perhaps we should talk in the back of the theater, so as not to interfere with the proceedings.” He held out a hand but Jane ignored it, popping out of her seat unaided, suddenly intent on having her say. All of her say. “We’ll just be in that back corner, at the start of the boxes,” she told Liberty. Her heart raced as she stalked up the aisle. Every nerve tingled in anticipation. “Perhaps I spoke out of turn yesterday,” he began.
“No, I’m afraid I did—and I don’t plan to stop there,” She knew she was being belligerent, but couldn’t stop herself. “The stars account for a fascinating area of study, but they cannot negate the basic need to care and be cared for.” She folded her arms. “And they are not constant.” “No,” he agreed. “But they move in established and predictable patterns. It’s reassuring.” “Let’s see the last group,” Middleton called. “Wait!” Jane clutched at the viscount’s strong arm. “Here they are!” The lights dimmed. After a silent moment, the girls moved slowly from the wings. The few high lights left picked out the shining silver in their cloaks. The effect was magical. They formed a straight line, diagonal and to the left of center stage. They all peered down at the floor. “What folly is this?” Molly asked mournfully. “The folly of youth,” Peggy answered. “The folly of man,” the Swan announced. The viscount touched her hand, where she still held on to him, and sent her a questioning look. “They convinced Middleton to give them the lines ahead of time. Oh, surely they will win the day!” “Without doubt.” “Thanks to you,” she said softly. She turned, but refused to relinquish her grip on him. “You talk about change as if it is a bad thing. You want to study these orbital variations so you can define and explain them.” She waved a hand toward the stage. “Those stars are bright, but in the sky they are incredibly far apart. Alone.” He nodded, as if that were the desirable state. “Don’t you see? Change can be good. You stepped into those girls’ lives a few days ago— and changed them for the better.” He looked struck by that simple truth. “I didn’t mean to.” “And you couldn’t have predicted it, either. That’s what’s reassuring. It’s the variations in fate and the unpredictability in people that can make life grand.” He frowned. “Not all people are worthy, Jane.” He tried to use her words against her. She couldn’t let him. “No. Some are not. That’s the beauty and purpose of life, I think. We move through the chaos, touching, learning, comparing, testing. And when we find someone who fits with us—we make a connection. A lasting friendship, a partnership.” She blushed. “A romance.” She breathed deeply. “Like you see patterns among the stars to make constellations—we’re forging our own constellations down here.” She smiled. “And every connection fuels us. Makes us shine brighter.” He looked stunned. Almost sick, as if she’d shot him with another arrow. The girls were leaving the stage now, to applause from Liberty and Middleton. But she was suddenly caught up in Worthe’s arms. Renegade pleasure shivered through her as he pulled her close. Space and air between them grew scant—but charged with the heated sting of want. Worthe’s eyes shone a bit wild—and hers closed as he leaned in and captured her mouth. His kiss pressed, demanding. Slightly shocked, but thoroughly thrilled, she kissed him back. He gentled, and she reveled in his embrace, marveled at the whimsy of fate that had brought them together, made them such a perfect fit for each other. In this way, too. Her blood was
alight. Her hands wandered across hard, unfamiliar planes even as she softened beneath him, inviting, encouraging, asking for more. Almost as abruptly as he’d begun, he pulled away. His finger drifted across the bridge of her nose and across her cheek. “There’s something I must do,” he said hoarsely. He gripped her shoulders. “Be ready to attend the opening night.” And he was gone. Worthe’s head was spinning. There were moments of elegance in science; brief seconds of peace, satisfaction and certainty when one at last understood a truth that fit into the puzzle that was the universe. Jane Tillney had just handed him the sweetest puzzle piece he’d ever encountered—and he’d instinctively recognized the extreme correctness of it. More than an elegant moment, it had been a turning point on the path of his life. It took a while to get back to Mayfair from Islington, but he arrived before the start of fashionable visiting hours. Ignoring her butler’s protest, he barged right in to his mother’s home and on up to her rooms. She sat in front of her mirror, applying cream to her face. “Worthe!” she gasped. “Is everything all right?” “Everything is fine, Mother.” He stepped in and perched upon the nearby bed. “I have so much to tell you.”
Chapter Five “I’ll hear no more about the theater!” Lady Tillney called as she swept out of the room. “We’re going to Lord Dayle’s ball. Fetch your wrap.” Jane rose languidly. Two days had passed since Lord Worthe had kissed her so beautifully —and she’d had no word since. Sighing, she took her cloak from the maid. Perhaps she would look for a German prince tonight. She’d worn her best, a jeweled ivory satin over a brilliant green under dress. For naught, it would seem. She fought back tears as she started down the stairs. “Good evening.” Jane gasped. He was here at last, looking dashing in evening finery, standing in the entry below and smiling up at her. An unfamiliar lady, decked in jewels, waited behind him. “I wondered if you would mind changing your plans?” He shot her a grin. “I understand there is a very fine play debuting tonight in Sadler’s Wells.” “Who’s this? What’s this?” Her mother came up behind her and called down to her father, who hovered in the open doorway to his study. “Who are these people, Tillney? Send them off. We’re for Lord Dayle’s ball.” “Oh, do hush, Cassandra,” the strange lady called out. “Your mother?” Jane asked. Worthe nodded and her smile grew even wider. Lady Tillney pushed past her, peering downward. “Minerva Hampton? Is that you? Whatever are you up to now?” “It is I. We can discuss how long it has been later. Right now I believe my son is about to propose to your daughter. Let’s allow them to get to it, shall we?” “Your son!” the baroness gasped in horror. Then understanding dawned, or she must have suddenly recalled her Debrett’s. “Oh, your son the viscount!” She hurried down the rest of the stairs. “Welcome, my lord!” She’d flipped from horror to ecstasy without a hitch. “I suppose we might consider attending the theater this evening.” He nodded to her and then stepped around her, stopping at the bottom step and holding out a hand. Jane came down, stopped on the last stair and took it. “Is that why you’ve come?” she asked. He nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve made a couple more miscalculations.” She bit back a smile. “Surely you don’t need me to fix them.” “But I do.” He lifted his hand and touched her cheek. “I miscalculated how important it is that I see these stars every morning when I awake.” She frowned. “Stars?” He grinned. “The constellation Andromeda. The princess, in fact, etched very finely in freckles across your lovely nose and onto those soft cheeks.” Her hand flew to her face. “I’ve always hated those freckles!” “Well, you’ll have to stop that, as of right now.” His tone had gone low. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss where his finger had just been. Behind him, her father cleared his throat. “Yes.” Worthe straightened. “There’s also another worrisome number plaguing me, almost beyond calculation.”
She took his other hand, clasped them both to her bosom. “And what is that?” “It’s the sheer number of hours, days, months and years I would be miserable without you.” His mouth twisted. “If I promise to look up from my telescope when you prod me, to allow you to check all of my calculations before I send them out, if I vow to make your search for those in need as important as my search of the stars, then will you make a connection with me?” Tears rose in her eyes as she nodded her agreement. “Yes, Lord Worthe. I will.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “Let’s start our own constellation, shall we?” He pulled her close. “I don’t know what shape it shall take, but I know it will shine bright.”
Author’s Note Astronomy was becoming more popular during this period of the Regency. William and Caroline Herschel were two of the well-known scientists working in the field. Clubs and societies were springing up and people were applying developments in other fields such as math, physics and chemistry to their understanding of the universe. In truth, though, the first recorded mathematical computations of the variations in Uranus’s orbit did not come until nearly thirty years later. They led to the discovery of the planet Neptune. I hope the reader will forgive me. I felt that giving Jane and Worthe their HEA warranted a little fudging of dates.
About the Author USA Today Bestselling Author Deb Marlowe adores History, England and Men In Boots. Clearly she was destined to write Regency Historical Romance. A Golden Heart winner and Rita Nominee, Deb grew up in Pennsylvania with her nose in a book. Luckily she’d read enough romances to recognize a true modern hero she met a college Halloween party—even though he wore a tuxedo t-shirt instead of breeches and boots. They married, settled in North Carolina and produced two handsome, intelligent and genuinely amusing boys. Though she spends much of her time with her nose in her laptop, for the sake of her family she does occasionally abandon her inner world for the domestic adventure of laundry, dinner and carpool. Despite her sacrifice, none of the men in her family are yet willing to don breeches or tall boots. She’s working on it. Thank you so much for reading A Slight Miscalculation! I hope you enjoyed it. If you would like to be notified when my next book is released, you can sign up for my newsletter at
www.DebMarlowe.com Don’t Miss the Other Books in the Half Moon House Series:
Series The Novels: The Love List The Leading Lady and coming soon: The Lady’s Legacy The Novellas: An Unexpected Encounter A Slight Miscalculation Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness A Waltz in the Park Beyond a Reasonable Duke
