Magic in the Stars (28 page)

She didn’t look as if she’d enjoy it, Aster observed, but
imagining those three lost little boys, she was too sick to her stomach to
continue the conversation. “You wish me to convey that message to the
marquess?”

Miss Caldwell finally looked up to meet Aster’s eyes. “Did
you not ever wonder why there are no women in the household? They will kill you
just as they’ve killed every other woman in their care. I think I shall take my
chances on Montfort.”

Well, dying could certainly be the disaster she saw in her
charts—but marriage seemed far more likely to be the looming tragedy.

Thinking the tower in Northumberland was looking better
and better, Theo settled the matter of Maeve, the Cow Deprived. “You’re welcome
to the witch,” he told the baronet. “I fully support Lady Azenor’s insistence
that she be removed.”

Aster hadn’t told him that after Maeve had hit Hugh, she’d
ordered Browne to fling the widow off the estate. He twitched his shoulders in
discomfort at his increasingly tight coat. Did one just toss tenants out of
their houses? How the devil would he know?

Was that the disaster she kept predicting—letting someone
else handle his responsibilities led to rock-throwing and cow-stealing?
Damnation
.

Eager to prevent Aster’s escape, Theo steered his neighbor
from the office. “After what Maeve did to Hugh and Lady Azenor, I won’t allow the
woman to return to Iveston. If you wish to file a complaint against Mr. Browne—who
was merely doing his job—then so be it and good luck. No tenant harms my
betrothed and my nephew and remains on my land to tell about it.”

“It won’t do, it won’t do at all,” the baronet continued to
protest as Theo escorted him from the office. “You need more experienced
guidance.”

Ah, so there was the reason for this visit. The baronet
thought he could run the estate better than Theo.

“The laborers are all up in arms as it is,” Sir George
continued. “The widow is very popular. Her plight will stir them to rage.”

“Duncan is still magistrate, is he not?” Theo asked,
attempting to conceal his contempt. “If I ask, he’ll have Maeve up on charges
of assault. We’ll send her to gaol and then there’s none to incite anger. She’s
damned lucky we’re just kicking her out. I’m wagering I could find women
willing to testify Maeve engages in prostitution. You’ve picked the wrong
cause, Caldwell.”

Theo stopped in the drawing room doorway and felt his anger
diminish at sight of his maybe-betrothed presiding over the company. She
glanced up at his arrival, and he could swear she winked. Her copper curls
twisted every which way, falling on her brow and nape with abandon. Her
traveling gown was much the worse for wear. And she still looked like royalty
in the cream and azure chamber she’d created.

“Sir George.” Despite her wrinkled dishabille, Aster nodded with
the dignity of a queen.

The baronet was a large, stout man with receding blond hair
and a booming voice that fit a hunting field better than a drawing room. He
looked uncomfortable bowing over Aster’s hand, speaking polite pleasantries. As
soon as he straightened, he sent a pleading glance to his daughter, who
instantly rose.

“It’s been a pleasure, my lady,” Margaret said in the
polished tones that Theo knew she’d learned at her expensive finishing school.

He didn’t think Margaret sounded pleased, but he was as much
in a hurry to pry their guests out as they were to leave.

“I understand there is to be a wedding?” Sir George boomed,
taking his daughter’s arm. “Shall I offer our congratulations?”

Heading off any tart reply Aster might make, Theo steered
his guests toward the rotunda. “I’ll accept them. Lady Azenor is a prize well
beyond my expectations.”

A prize he’d stolen, coerced, seduced . . . No wonder she was
ready to fling him in the pond and set the goats upon him.

After seeing his guests off, Theo returned to the drawing
room, but as he’d feared, Aster had already slipped away. He’d need to put a
bell on her to keep up with her. He hurried up the stairs to check on Hugh—and
found his reluctant bride telling tall tales to the twins—and to Duncan.

His brother had propped himself against the wall to listen.
At Theo’s arrival, Duncan twisted his head as if to determine who was there. He
scowled a warning.

Properly cautioned against interrupting, Theo silently jostled
his big brother for position because he was still irritated at having the
estate’s responsibilities dumped on his inadequate shoulders. Since Duncan was
merely listening to the story and not seeing the maternal scene as Theo did, he
shifted without complaint. No one had ever told them bedtime stories. It was an
illuminating experience.

Theo waited until Aster was finished and the twins were
roaring in laughter before he intruded. “I’ll not tell Pascoe that you know how
to tell stories or he’ll steal you from me.”

“Pascoe can find his own damned woman,” Duncan snarled, returned
from fantasy land to the moment. “Did you rid the premises of intruders?”

“No thanks to you,” Theo retorted now that the spell was
broken.” I could have used a little support down there. I didn’t know who the
devil Maeve was.”

“If you spent less time in the library and more time in the
tavern, you would.”

“You’re complaining because I’m not a drunk and a rakehell?”
Theo protested.

“I shall have Cook send supper up here for all of you.” Ignoring
their bickering, Aster rose from the side of the bed. She touched her own
bruise, then Hugh’s. “I think Hugh and I shall spend more time in the library
and less separating quarreling tenants.”

That sounded as if she meant to stay. Heart thumping
illogically, Theo offered his arm. “I’ll be happy to lead you to the library,
unless you wish to rout a few more ogres for me. Quarreling neighbors are as
bad as tenants.”

“We don’t want mothering,” Duncan protested. “And the estate
doesn’t need more bookworms in the library.”

Theo swung around and whacked his brother’s bulging bicep
with all the strength of his bookworm fist. “You abdicated, big brother,” he roared
as Duncan staggered back in surprise. “If you want the damned throne back, I’ll
hand it over, and Aster and I will repair to the tower in Wystan. Otherwise, leave
us to muddle along as best we can.”

“Hugh,” she addressed the boy in the bed, “if I see you and
your brother treat each other like savages the way your father and uncle do, I
shall send you both off to Wystan so you might learn civilization.” Aster sailed
out of the room.

Defending himself from Duncan’s retaliatory swing with a
lifted arm and shove, Theo ran after her.

***

Aster was downstairs ordering a meal served in the twins’
chamber when Theo caught up with her. She didn’t want to be angry with a man
who had been raised like a wolf and didn’t know better, but she was confused
and shaken and
she had no clothes
.

“You hit a blind man,” she said before he could speak.

“I discovered well before he was blind that the only way to
hit Duncan is when he doesn’t see it coming,” Theo declared without remorse. “His
arms are longer than mine, and he always wins otherwise.”

“He can’t
ever
see
the blow coming,” she protested. “You must change your ways.”

“If you’ve decided to become a bitter spinster who berates astronomers
for their bigotry rather than marry me, what does it matter?” he grumbled. “I
believe I shall retire to Wystan and let Erran run the estate.”

“Oh, that will work very well. Erran speaks even less than
you do. But I suppose he
does
know
how to dress properly.”

Which avoided the subject—did she wish to become a bitter
spinster? Of course not. But that was a very real possibility given her ruined
reputation. And if she didn’t dare visit her family . . . She
wanted to beat Theo for making her face facts.

“I
accept
that
your science is different from mine,” Theo said gruffly, out of the blue.

His hair flopped in his eyes, his coat was undone, and his
boots were still muddy from the pond, but in her eyes, he was still the
handsomest man she knew—and the most appealing. How could one resist those
little-boy-blue eyes?

“I really don’t want to let the Society humiliate you as it
does anyone who offers theories different than their own, but I will, if you demand
it,” he added reluctantly.

Aster held a hand to her chest to keep her heart from
leaping out. He still wanted her to stay!

Choices. She must make choices. Her stars seemed further
away than ever. “You said so earlier. I believe you. Perhaps I’ll wait until I
have more information about planets and moons and asteroids I don’t know about
before confronting them.”

He studied her warily. “Do you still wish to look for a
smarter man than me?”

No, she wanted to fling herself into his arms and return to
the pond. Or the tub. Or a bed. And she was officially out of her mind. “There
are no smarter gentlemen in London or I would have found them. What I want is
respect
. If you can accept that my
science is different from yours, then I will accept that men don’t understand
that their version of science cannot explain everything.”

His beautiful silver-blue eyes flickered with hope, and he
shoved a straying strand of hair from her cheek. “I accept that science cannot
explain women. Do you still wish to return to London?”

“I have to go to London to fetch my trunks. I can’t be
married in this!” She held out her drab traveling gown.

He carried her hand to his mouth, kissed it, and nearly
brought her to her knees. How could the man who yelled at his brothers and
hauled her around like a sack of coal be the same man who otherwise treated her
as if she were more valuable than gold? Perhaps she could find a scientific
treatise on men. Or write one, if she lived long enough.

“We have a date with the vicar tomorrow. You’re not going
anywhere,” he insisted, catching her arm and dragging her back up the stairs.

“We appear to be going
somewhere
,”
she corrected as she ran to keep up with his longer steps. She was definitely
out of her mind, but a thousand times happier than when she’d told him she was
leaving. That had to mean something.

“To the attic. There are trunks and trunks of clothing up
there.” He led the way to a floor with many paneled doors and hurried her past
them.

“You want me to wear someone’s old clothes on our wedding
day?” she asked in incredulity. “Is this how Ives kill their wives—with
insanity?”

“We don’t kill our wives. My great-grandmother and
grandmother were both still alive when I was born. No one lives forever. And if
Margaret was telling you about our mistresses, they never hang about after they
discover we won’t wed them or pamper them with jewels. They’re not dead, just
gone for greener pastures. Margaret is looking for excuses for her abominable
behavior.”

He understood her fear and effectively dismissed it! Now she
remembered why she adored this man. He was dangerously close to being the
stabilizing influence her Libra indecision needed.

He flung open one of the doors they passed in the silent
upper corridor. “Nursery, schoolroom, servants quarters, in case you’re
interested.”

With curiosity, she peered past his shoulder to a
linen-shrouded room, until he tugged her hand and dragged her to a new flight
of stairs.

Well, almost the balance she needed.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Margaret’s birthday, would
you?” Dragged along by Theo’s haste, Aster was practically gasping for air by
the time they reached the final landing.

“First of September. She throws a harvest festival early and
calls it her birthday fete.” The stairs opened onto another corridor of low
ceilings and plain doors.

“Virgo, as I expected. I should draw her chart and see if
she is right for Duncan. Perhaps we could bring them together again. She seems
like the managing sort he needs.”

Aster stared in curiosity at the rows of doors on this top
floor. She’d never seen a house so huge that even the attics had attics.

“Please, don’t,” Theo admonished. “They’ve both led each
other on for a decade. It’s time to move forward, and I’d rather not do it with
Margaret wasting money on silk furniture the dogs will ruin. Her only interest
has ever been spending money and demanding attention.”

“But someday, Duncan may marry, and his wife will be in
charge,” Aster argued, finding a new reason to doubt her sanity in marrying
into this family.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’ll charge the
estate for my services in the meantime, and we’ll be rich and build our own
house. It doesn’t look as if I’ll ever have time for an observatory anyway.” He
sounded resigned.

“What exactly is an observatory?” she asked, since it seemed
so important to him.

“A structure for observing celestial objects. Stonehenge might
be a prehistoric example for observing the sun and moon. McFarlane in Scotland
has instruments that measure the stars from a specific point to create sailing
maps. Sir William Herschel built a magnificent one in Slough. I want a specific
point for observing the moons—a place large enough for my very largest
glasses.”

“A structure on a hill? Is that what Wystan is?” She tried
to imagine where he might put such a building on the estate.

“Wystan is tall but the tower is too small for my scope
without considerable improvement. There’s a rocky hill on the south end of this
estate, but all my money is tied up in the manufactory. Until it starts making
a profit, I can do nothing.”

Dismissing the subject, he opened the first door and lit a
sconce on the wall.

The last rays of sunlight illuminated a dusty chamber of old
boxes, trunks, and wardrobes. In ways, it was actually neater than the rooms
below. No one had spilled books or saddles or dogs up here. The dust lay evenly
between rows and rows of . . .
clothes
?