Midnight My Love (9 page)

"Maybe I
will
come downstairs for
a while," Robert said. "Just make sure Aunt Haygood doesn't ply me
with more tea. That yarrow she gave me this morning left much to be
desired. Although, she
did
say it would help stimulate my
appetite."

Alex's eyes twinkled. "I can't make any
promises, brother dear, but I'll do my best."

****

Damien guided two footmen as they carefully
helped their master to the drawing room. A bed had been made on the
sofa, and the invalid was settled snugly. Damien watched Alexandra
as she tenderly adjusted the pillows and coverlet around her
brother.

He knew she was still angry; she had treated
him coldly ever since the episode with Carlisle in the hall. She
certainly wasn't treating Sir Howard Carlisle coldly. For the past
several days, the man had been constantly underfoot, and Alexandra
had welcomed his presence with every evidence of warmth and
pleasure.

Standing near the windows,
Damien followed her movements as she aimlessly wandered about the
room, picking up knickknacks and setting them down again. Miss
Sedgewicke settled herself near Robert and began reading aloud
Southey's latest poem,
The Curse of
Kehama
. Miss Haygood sat across from her
nephew, sorting embroidery threads, and Alexandra finally seated
herself at Robert's feet. Listening with half an ear, he wondered
if Alex would go to the observatory tonight. Would she allow him to
go with her?

The tea tray came in at ten and Aunt Haygood
served. She handed the first cup to Robert. "Your favorite, my
dear--good strong Hyson. I believe the tea I brewed for you this
afternoon put the sparkle back in your eyes. There's nothing more
refreshing than balm leaves blended with lavender flowers."

Robert accepted his cup with a tired smile.
"It certainly was a distinctive blend, Aunt. One way or another,
I'll soon be on my feet due to your bracing teas." He caught
Jenny's eye, and Damien detected a look of understanding pass
between them.

Alexandra stirred her tea, waiting for it to
cool. "You'll be happy to know I sent that letter to Lord Thane
this afternoon. It shouldn't take long to hear from him. Hopefully,
he'll bring Felicia to Willowmede soon." She turned to include
Rochdale in the conversation. "I wrote to the earl and his daughter
inviting them for a visit, after Robert confessed he hadn't
informed them of his injury. I described the excellent fishing the
earl could enjoy here while his daughter renewed her acquaintance
with you, Robert. I expect that will bring them posthaste, since
the earl is an avid angler."

Aunt Haygood sipped her tea. "I should think
Lady Felicia would arrive posthaste no matter what, once she heard
our dear Robert was wounded and come home."

Alex nodded. "Of course. I only added the
bit about the fishing to ensure their arrival in good time. You
know what an indifferent traveler Lord Thane is."

Aunt Haygood sniffed as she set her cup
down. "Indolent is a better word. Ever since his wife died, he's
been positively lethargic. I'll brew him one of my special teas
while he's here. Put some life into him."

Damien finished his tea and placed his cup
on the table. "Thane's phlegmatic tendencies are well-known by the
ton. I'm told the only thing that rouses him is if there's good
fishing to be had."

Jenny took up the book again. "I'm sure the
earl will bring his daughter as soon as they know Robert's home,"
she said quietly.

Alex gave her cup to Aunt Haygood and kissed
her cheek. "If you will excuse me, I'm going to the observatory.
I've neglected my work for over a sennight and really must get back
to it."

Damien opened the door to allow her to pass.
"I'd like to help, if you wouldn't mind the company, Miss
Turlington." Would she refuse? He waited and watched as color rose
to her cheeks.

"Certainly, Rochdale," she replied, then
lowered her voice to a murmur. "As long as you behave yourself, I
have no objections."

Damien bowed to her in mock salute as he
closed the door on Aunt Haygood's admonishments about the
proprieties, which quickly turned to complaints about her
lumbago.

The observatory was dark as they entered.
Alex lit the lamp. The solitary flame pushed the shadows away as it
cast its meager light around the room. Damien went over to the
telescope. Alex sat at the work table and took up her latest
journal.

She glanced at Damien, who
was adjusting the telescope. "It looks like you've been busy,
Rochdale. These last entries are
not
by my hand."

He smiled and Alex noticed his teeth were
white in his dark face. "I hope you don't mind. I took the liberty
of helping with your research. You see, I've been fascinated by
your hypothesis and couldn't wait to observe the George's orbit for
myself." Rochdale's eyes flickered with amusement as he seated
himself across from her. "Not many diversions to be had at
Willowmede late at night, my dear."

Ignoring this sally, Alex bit her lip. "I
was worried I'd missed something of importance. Which I see I did,
if I'm interpreting this third entry correctly?"

Rochdale leaned over the table to explain,
tracing the sketch with his finger. "By following this trajectory,
you can see the George is again being dragged from its standard
orbit. It's so gradual a shift it would be overlooked if you
weren't searching for it intentionally." He sat back in the chair
and studied her face. "Your hypothesis is extraordinary, my
dear."

Alex shook her head.
"My
father's
hypothesis, Rochdale. Never forget, it is my father's
hypothesis."

"It may be your father's hypothesis," he
replied, "but I believe you have enough evidence from five years of
investigation to propose a theorem of your own. I think you should
consider writing a thesis and presenting it to the Royal
Society."

Alex stared at him in
astonishment. "But I haven't proven anything. I haven't found
out
what
is
pulling the George out of its customary orbit. All I have is
evidence showing the planet follows an erratic course."

Rochdale pointed to the
stack of journals. "You know you have more than enough material for
a thesis. Write a dissertation incorporating your research and
observations. Then you can propose your father's hypothesis: There
must be another planet or comet pulling the
Georgium Sidus
from its standard
orbit."

Alex appreciated his enthusiasm, but
protested. "Theses and dissertations are written by candidates up
for academic degrees. The Royal Society won't accept such a serious
hypothesis from a mere woman."

"You're forgetting Caroline Herschel," he
reminded her. "Hasn't she made some important discoveries of her
own? Outside her assistance to her famous brother, I mean? I
thought Mr. Herschel said she had submitted several papers to the
Royal Society."

"You've worked with Mr. Herschel?" Alex
asked.

"No, I'm only an amateur astronomer--not
like your father, or you for that matter. Mr. Herschel was kind
enough to answer some of my questions by letter."

Alex straightened the
stack of journals. "I seem to recall . . . yes, I remember now.
Caroline Herschel
has
submitted several papers to the Royal Society. She presented
a catalogue of five hundred and sixty-one stars that were
accidentally omitted from the British Catalogue about fifteen years
ago. Papa could talk of nothing else for weeks." She smiled at the
memory of her father's elation when he'd heard the news. "But
Rochdale, I could never presume to be in the same exalted company
as Miss Herschel."

"Nonsense," he said. "Your father was a
well-known astronomer. He was with Herschel when he discovered the
George. You've been trained by the best and are extremely
knowledgeable in the field. You must write a thesis, my dear."

"It's quite an undertaking. Do you truly
think I have enough evidence?" she asked.

"Definitely. And I would be happy to assist
you in anyway I can. You write the paper and I'll go over the work
with you." Rochdale waited expectantly.

Alex looked at him, a sharp side glance.
Would they be able to work together again after all that had passed
between them? She had forgotten how this abominable man could match
her enthusiasm about the stars. He was brilliant, of course. The
viscount was a different person when he talked about astronomy.
Different, and dangerously attractive.

He was looking at her with a strange
tenderness. Alex felt the bond strengthening between them again.
There was a treacherous warmth spreading inside her. Rochdale's
concern and unstinting care of her brother had already breached her
defenses.

And Rochdale understood all those lonely
nights at the telescope, all the tedious calculations. He was
confident she could write a thesis and had also offered to help. He
was still waiting for her answer.

"Yes," she said. "I would like to work with
you--the way we used to when Papa was alive." She took a deep
breath. "I really wish you would quit calling me Miss Turlington.
You used to call me by my first name."

Rochdale seemed to hesitate as he went back
to reposition the telescope. "Very well, but only if you do the
same, Alexandra."

She nodded and bent her head to her work,
trying to ignore the pleasure she felt when he called her by her
familiar name once again.

A week later, Robert sat on
the sofa in the back parlor and stared listlessly out the window at
the morning sun. Aunt Haygood napped in a nearby chair, her tatting
forgotten on her lap. Miss Sedgewicke read more of Southey's poem
aloud, her voice low and melodious.

Robert swung his booted feet to the floor.
For the past week, Jenny had coaxed him downstairs to the sofa
every day. Mrs. Abernathy's good cooking had been tasty and
filling, and he could feel his energy returning. He was becoming
adept at eating with his left hand. But would he ever feel whole
again?

Jenny closed the book and looked at him.
"Would you like to start practicing writing today? I know you're
feeling blue-devilled, but you must find the strength to go on. You
cannot live out the rest of your days on the sofa."

He saw the clear gray eyes regarding him
with mild reproof. Robert knew she was right. He needed to pull
himself out of the quagmire of self-pity he was drowning in.

"Go get paper and pen, then. I'll give it a
try." He was rewarded with a warm smile.

Jenny ran to the desk where the writing
materials lay. "I don't mean to come the tyrant over you. It scares
me to see you so melancholy. You've always been strong and
vital--alive and vibrant." She caught his interested gaze and
busied herself with positioning the paper and ink on the small
table near the sofa.

He seized her hand, holding it tightly in
his own. "You're not a tyrant," he said softly. "Never that. You're
a ministering angel, helping me on the path to recovery." Robert
was pleased to see her cheeks turn pink.

Gently retrieving her hand, Jenny continued,
"Before you begin writing, remember how awkward you felt when you
first started using your fork. Your left hand is unaccustomed to
doing these tasks, and it will take practice in order to become
proficient again."

"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "Hand me
the pen."

She gave it to him, then stepped back.

"What shall I write?" he asked, wishing
she'd stayed close by.

"Start with your name. Your signature will
be different now. You should strive to make it bold and
distinctive." She watched anxiously as he put pen to paper.

The first attempt was unsuccessful. The nib
cracked, and ink splattered across the page.

"Damn it!" Robert said. "And how am I
supposed to repair the pen now? With one hand?" He glared at
Jenny.

"I'll repair it for you," she said. Taking
up the quill, she quickly sharpened the point and handed it back to
him. Robert scratched his name on the vellum and laid the pen
aside. "It's worse than a child's scribblings," he said with
disgust.

"It's only your first attempt. Try again."
Jenny held the pen toward him. Robert hesitated.

"Here," she said, placing the quill in his
hand. "Let me guide you. Your left hand is unused to the motions."
With gentle patience, Jenny gripped his large hand and helped spell
out his name.

Robert felt the small warm hand guide him
through the motions. A wave of desire washed over him. He watched
Jenny as she bent over the page. She'd grown to be quite pretty, he
thought. He found himself wanting to kiss the brown curls so near
his mouth. Closing his eyes, he inhaled her unique fragrance and
suddenly yearned to sweep Jenny into a passionate embrace.

Robert jerked open his eyes. The pen slid
across the paper. What was he about, thinking of Jenny in that
way?

"Is something wrong?" she asked him. "We
were doing so well."

Glancing at the jagged letters of his name,
he reached for the pen. "Let me try myself."

Carefully, Robert scrawled the letters. Just
as he came to the end, the nib broke again. A large blotch of ink
smeared the page.

"It's no use!" He threw the pen down. "I'm
sorry, Jenny. Even rudimentary things are beyond me now."

"That's nonsense, and you know it." She
placed her hand on his arm.

Robert shrugged it off. He didn't want her
pity. He wanted to kiss her, which was nonsense. His sharp-edged
hunger for Jenny made him stand abruptly. He turned away and
clumsily swept everything onto the floor.