A Slight Miscalculation (2 page)

“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.”