No Place for a Dame (6 page)

“I know it must appear I am motivated by nothing but excess pride, but can you possibly understand what it would mean for someone like me to be recognized for what I have accomplished? To have my name attached forever to that comet’s discovery?”

“Someone like you?” he echoed in a strange voice.

“Yes, someone who is… no one.” She hunted his face for some sign of empathy, some clue as to what he was thinking. He frowned down at
her, his dark brows knotting and for a long moment was silent. She could feel his gaze on her, the tension beneath her hand, the rise and fall of his chest. Finally, he spoke.

“And just how do you intend we should go about deceiving the entire Royal Astrological Society and, for all practical purposes, every member of polite Society who will then be in town? Which, I am loathe to point out, will be primarily members of Parliament, who are not generally the most gullible of men.”

He was going to help her! She felt the smile bloom on her face and in her elation patted him approvingly on his chest before she realized what she was doing and snatched her hand back. He bit back a half smile. “I have a plan.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

His sarcastic tone didn’t dim her exuberance one bit. “I will pose as your protégé!”

“My protégé?” he echoed incredulously. “No one who has the slightest acquaintance with me will believe that.”

“Why not?”

“My dear girl, I am hardly the sort of man to have
protégés
.”

“True, the tradition has gone out of fashion, but in the past many of Society’s most exalted gentlemen kept entire stables of protégés: artists, writers, composers, poets. It was,” she added archly, “one of the few things such gentlemen were any good for and is a practice that ought to be returned to favor.”

“You really must try to not to be so liberal with your compliments.”

She grinned. “I have it all worked out. You were traveling in the Netherlands in order to recover from the disappointing dissolution of your engagement.” Giles snorted. “There you discovered a fascination with the heavens and in wishing to educate yourself further were introduced to me, a student from England studying in Ghent. I consented to tutor you. You were so impressed that you decided forthwith to foster my brilliance.” She beamed at him. It was a perfect plan.

“That is one of the most idiotic plans I have ever heard.”

“No, it’s not,” she said, stunned he should think it so. “It’s brilliant.”

“No. It’s not brilliant. First of all, no one is going to believe that I would need to travel in order to recover from the disappointment of losing Sophia’s hand. Second, neither will they credit that I have developed
a sudden fascination with stars. And finally, no one will believe I would play pupil to a pup such as you are likely be mistaken for,
if
you manage to convince anyone you are a lad in the first place,
which
I greatly doubt. Greatly.” His gaze flickered over a figure she knew to be more curvaceous than most women’s.

“If anyone does think you are a male and I try to pass you off as my protégé, they are much more likely to assume I am embarked on an exploration of new ways to err against the flesh.”

She wasn’t entirely certain what he meant by this but it sounded a little depraved and so she blushed. Upon witnessing this, he made a rough sound of exasperation. “There. You see? You are the merest babe. You don’t even know to what I refer, and nor should you, but if you were to live in my house, as a male, you would soon learn all manners of things you shouldn’t know. I do not need that particular sin on my head, having a full contingent already.”

“No,” she protested. “No. I won’t interfere in your life. I promise. You won’t even know I am there. I shall keep entirely out of your way.”

“My dear. A great mimic you may be, but let us be frank, if not with each other at least with ourselves. You have as much ability to remain unobtrusive as an elephant has to fly. I recall you thundering about Killylea, arguing with your tutors, fleeing from the staff when you broke something during one or the other of your experiments, and generally terrorizing the household.”

She hadn’t thought he’d noticed.

“Besides, the entire scheme depends on me taking you about and introducing you to the right people, does it not? How are we to do that if you’re sitting quietly unobtrusive in my sitting room.” He spoke this last with heavy sarcasm.

“
Please
.” She felt her comet slipping from her grasp. Desperation brought tears to her eyes. Valiantly, she sought not to shed them. “Please. I
can
be unobtrusive. I have lived alone for years. Do you think I was welcomed as a member of the family in the homes of the men under whom I studied?”

She saw his mouth tense with unwilling sympathy. So, he had not grown entirely callous over the years he’d ruled Society’s fashionable set. She pressed her suit. “I am used to my own company. I will stay to my room when we are not actively pursuing our goal. I swear it.”

He did not reply but looked away, the set of his jaw tight.

She reached up, clasping his shirt front in entreaty. “A couple of luncheons, an afternoon or so, just a few hours here and there and the rest of the time you will not have to bother with me at all.

“I
know
it will work! If you tell people what they will be seeing, then show them something, almost always they will see what you’ve led them to expect. Just like your one-time bride did. It’s human nature.

“It’s like one of those silhouette portraits where the same profiles are facing one another. If I tell you it’s two people looking at one another, that’s what you see, but if I tell you it’s actually a single vase in the center then that is what you perceive.
Please
.”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

She could not lose this. Not now. Not when she was so close.

Tears spilled over her lower eyelids.
Angry
tears now. Throwing all pretenses of gentility aside, she bunched his shirt tighter and yanked his head down, forcing him to meet her eye. “Is this really so much to ask for releasing you from the life sentence you would have entered into with that wretched girl and her horrific father?” she demanded fiercely.

She waited for him, breathing hard, certain he would either respond in kind with anger, or denounce her and her plan entirely—

“All right.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘All right.’ ”

She let out the breath she’d been holding with a whoosh.

“Apparently, I have no choice but to acquiesce. Though I warn you, this mad scheme of yours is certainly doomed to failure and will expose you to great condemnation. Have you thought of that? Of the consequences?” he asked. “How such an eventuality might affect your future?”

She had. If she were exposed as a hoaxer, no one would hire her as their assistant. She would not be welcomed back to study at any observatories or with any of her former mentors. But then, long ago Giles had said she would never be welcomed in any of those places anyway. So, yes, this was a risk she was willing to take.

“I have,” she said. “But…” She hesitated, her conscience railing against her practicality. “But what of you? What of the censure you would face?”

His beautiful mouth curved in a smile that for once held no mockery. “I daresay I shall survive. If nothing else, the tale of our attempted deception shall provide entertainment for an untold number of my peers. So, there you are. I believe I have agreed to help you, you wretched little extortionist.”

“Thank you. Oh! Thank you!” She suspected her smile was more of a foolish grin. She struggled to restrain it but she was so… so
gratified.
She cleared her throat. Grinned wider. Cleared it again. “We should make plans. Time is of the essence and there are so many variables to consider and—”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “And we shall make plans.
Tomorrow
. Today, I have had enough planning.” He held up his hand when she started to protest. “Tomorrow.”

“As you wish.” With a happy sigh, she raked back her hair, reached out for the wig she’d set on the casement, and plopped the hideous thing back atop her head.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she shoved her dark red hair beneath it.

“I am going to scratch on Miss North’s door. Perhaps snuffle. Definitely giggle. Manically.” She grinned again. “We can’t have her reconsidering now, can we?”

Chapter Six

G
iles watched Avery disappear, the filthy gown swishing around her bare feet. He closed the damper on the brazier then headed down the spiral staircase, wondering if Avery really was moaning at Sophia’s door.

Of course she was.

Bollocks.

In the course of one short evening, she had managed to make disarray of the ordered if unprepossessing plans he’d made for his future. He had arrived home with every intention of making Sophia deliriously happy. And if her happiness was not contingent on sharing his bed, body, or company but would come primarily from acquiring his name and fortune, and even though at one point he might have hoped for more from his wife, he was older now and expected nothing else. Nor did he deserve it. He had wasted any opportunities he’d had for something better.

He’d intended to spend a few days here acquainting Sophia with the staff and his home, present her with a few choice bits of jewelry from the family coffers to tide her over until after the wedding, then send her off
to wherever it was North lived during the winter. He’d then intended to return forthwith to London with the single goal of finding out what had happened to Jack Seward, his friend and fellow agent for the crown, who’d disappeared along with his wife some weeks ago.

But now, somehow, he’d promised himself to take part in a havey-cavey charade that hadn’t the slightest hope of success. And while he couldn’t in all good conscience regret the loss of Sophia’s hand in marriage, he did begrudge the time taken away from his investigation. He must somehow contrive to do both for as long as necessary. Which likely wouldn’t be long.

No one would mistake Avery Quinn for a young man, not with her figure. Tonight when the wind had plastered the lawn gown tight against her small body, exposing her lushly curved shape as clearly as if she’d been naked, his body had tightened in quick and heated response. Which was strange since Sophia’s determined and skillful touch had not roused him in the least for several months.

Now, his mind’s eye could not dismiss the image of Avery, her breasts full and round, her waist small, and her hips sweetly curved. No, he couldn’t imagine a shirt and trousers would ever adequately conceal that womanly form. And all the binding in the world wasn’t going to force that diminutive but well-endowed figure into a masculine silhouette.

As for her face? Admittedly, she had strong features: a crisp jawline, deep-set eyes, and a wide mouth. But the arch of her brow, the length of the swanlike neck, the succulent ripeness of her lips…

A man would have to be blind.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the library, hoping that Avery’s “scene setting” had been relegated to only those rooms Sophia was likely to visit and that a nice, warm fire would be burning in the hearth. He was gratified to discover this was so and entered the warm and welcoming room with a sense of homecoming. Here, he’d spent countless hours pouring over the well-stocked shelves. As had Avery Quinn. Sometimes he’d find evidence of her recent habitation: a scribbled note, a half-empty cup of tea, a book left on a table. It had always made him feel as though he shared the room with a particularly companionable little ghost.

He moved to the window and looked out. The unassailable fact was that he did owe Avery. Until this evening, he’d no idea Sophia had a
hysteria about people less perfect in form than herself. And he should have. It would have been embarrassing had it not been pathetic. Because he hadn’t known for the very simple fact that he hadn’t extended himself to discover anything about her. He’d assumed Sophia was nothing more or less than what she appeared to be: ambitious, sly, vain, and sensual. And while he may have decided that he’d found in Sophia exactly what he deserved, she was not what his children deserved. Particularly not since dwarfism ran in his family.

He hadn’t investigated Sophia adequately and for that oversight his presumed progeny might have paid a terrible price. Oh, he had asked plenty of questions about her father. He knew all about North’s finances, both what he owed and what he was owed. He knew the man’s weaknesses, which were legion, and his strengths, which were few. After all, finding out about people was what
he’d
done for all the years that England had been at war with France.

While he’d never held any commission, long ago he’d been recruited into a different service, one where wits and wiles replaced rifle and sword, a world where information was traded for darkest secrets, a world of subterfuge and duplicity.

He’d been very good at it, too. Not just at information gathering, but at engineering events, setting people in the right place at the right time and then manipulating their reactions with just the right trigger to affect the most specific of outcomes. Oh, yes. He’d been very good at it. Better in some ways than even the best of such agents, Jack Seward.