The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (102 page)

August 11, 1891
The Royal Greenwich Observatory near London

The calendar mocked Alex every time he looked at it, so he’d banished the thing from his office and from the flat near Blackheath that he called home. Still, each time the sun set on another day, he was acutely aware of how quickly each hour passed.

What had seemed like an eternity in the future four years ago was now exactly one day away. With the dreaded sands of time pouring through the hourglass, tomorrow would be upon him far too soon. And the grand irony of it all was that the Prime Meridian, the line where all new days began, ran almost directly beneath his feet.

He slammed his fist on his desk and the inkwell rattled. The deal he’d made four years ago stood despite all his efforts and prayers to the contrary. Without the funds Daniel Beck provided, the Hambly family debt might have crushed them all. And though the observatory on Summit Hill never materialized, the purchase of Beck Mining’s Leadville operations had brought profits beyond Alex’s wildest dreams.

If only Daniel Beck had been reasonable and taken one of the many offers Alex had made over the years to settle the debt now coming due. What rational man of commerce refused double the amount owed to him?

Apparently one intent on marrying his menace of a daughter to the Viscount Hambly.

Alex pushed away from his desk and tossed his pen on top of his notes. The report, a treatise on cometary orbits and the probability that Comet Coggia-Winnecke 1873 VII and Comet Pons 1818 II were one and the same, would go unread until the next meeting of the British Astronomical Association anyway.

Alex leaned back in his chair. From this vantage point he could see the bright red Time Ball atop the Astronomer Royal’s Flamsteed House and, in the distance, vessels plying the Thames.

While temptation prodded him to flee—to find some outbound ship and jump aboard, never to return—logic, or perhaps family honor, caused him to pick up his pen and go back to his work. Contemplating observations with the transit circle and the Sheepshanks Equatorial was a much safer way to spend the last afternoon of his freedom.

A movement out the window caught his attention, and Alex saw the red Time Ball jolt into motion. With a slow and even pace, the ball rose halfway up its mast, where it paused, indicating the time was now 12:55. In three minutes, at precisely 12:58, the ball would rise to the top. Two minutes later, it would begin its quick descent, indicating 13:00 hours.

The daily event, dating back more than sixty years, went unnoticed by most who toiled under the Observatory’s roof, but some came just to see the sight. The onlookers were there now, a loose knot of people, their faces obscured by distance. Only when the winds were too high did the Time Ball fail to rise and fall.

Alex’s stomach growled, reminding him that it was time for lunch. The upcoming move to the ancestral home at Hampstead Heath had resulted in bare cupboards and only the most basic of amenities in his Blackheath flat. Breakfast had been a meager affair.

He set his pen aside to consider his options. After one last look out the window to see the Time Ball declare the hour, Alex rose. A simple lunch from Greenwich Market would have to suffice.

He reached for his hat and headed for the door only to have it open beneath his hand, revealing a very grown-up Charlotte Beck.

Four years had been more than kind to her. And while she once wore her beauty with an unassuming air, it was quite obvious from her expression that the older Miss Beck knew exactly what effect she had on the male gender and reveled in it.

From the top of her carefully coiffed head—complete with feathered cap—to the tip of her well-shod feet, she looked as if she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. And judging from the tiny waist of her dress, a fashionable frock of sky blue festooned with ribbons and adorned with ruffles at the neck and sleeves, her days of burning corsets were behind her.

And tomorrow morning, unless she’d found a way out that he hadn’t, the American beauty would be his wife.

Then she smiled, and for the life of him, Alex could not think of a single reason why marrying her would be unpleasant. Ill-advised, yes, but judging from appearances alone, not altogether unpleasant.

The realization stunned him.

“What are you doing here?” he managed when speech finally ceased to elude him.

“We’ve business to discuss,” Charlotte Beck said, “and I’ve been quite unsuccessful at securing an appointment with you since my arrival in London.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been busy,” Alex offered in explanation, though the truth was he’d found much to be busy with so as to avoid anything related to tomorrow’s grand event. And, more importantly, to avoid Charlotte Beck.

Charlotte pressed past him, the blue feather on her cap tickling his nose in her wake. He recalled another hat and another blue feather, both of which were doused in a Leadville rainstorm. Ironically, that time he’d ended up shackled as well. She sidestepped a pile of books and moved toward his desk, then set a hamper on top of his papers.

“Considering the gravity of the situation, I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion,” she said.

Forgive the intrusion? Since when did Charlotte Beck apologize for thrusting herself into any situation, welcome or not?

An image rose of the ruined notes on his Jacob’s Comet research four years ago, and Alex hurried to lift the hamper and gather up his pages. He tucked his notes into the topmost desk drawer, turned the key and put it in his pocket, then returned the hamper to the now-clear desk.

Charlotte laughed, and the sapphires at her throat caught the light. Alex dared to look into the green eyes of his future bride.

“I fail to see what you find so funny,” he said as he began to recall why the two of them should never be considered a match. “You were once quite the menace where important research was concerned.” He paused. “And telescopes.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, though the humor in her voice belied her words. She opened the hamper. “You must be famished. Here. Chew on this while I set the table. Or what will have to pass for one.”

Charlotte tossed him an apple, and he caught it. Before he took a bite, Alex lifted a brow.

“What?” she asked, pausing to regard him.

“I was just wondering if you might be ridding yourself of a groom with a poisoned apple.”

Again she laughed. “Believe me, Alex, I’ve considered it. Ridding myself of a groom, that is.” She gave the still-uneaten fruit a swift glance, then returned her attention to his face. “But not by poison. Too obvious.”

“Well, that is comforting.” He leaned against the desk and took a bite.

The apple was good, tart and tasty and just what he needed to hold his hunger at bay a few minutes longer, but watching Charlotte was even better. She moved with polished grace, a woman where once had been a girl playing at the endeavor. His eyes longed to slide down the length of her trim figure, but Alex didn’t allow himself the pleasure. Instead, he watched her thoughtful expression, caught the afternoon sun as it spun gold into the curls that adorned her forehead, studied every nuance of her lips as they pursed in thought, of her gloved fingers as they worked to set plates and food for their makeshift feast. Then, slowly, his gaze traveled to her eyes.

“Do find your manners, Alex,” she said evenly, “and stop looking at me as if I were the prize Christmas goose.” She thrust a plate in his direction then gestured to the desk before taking a seat in
his
chair. “Enjoy your lunch while I offer a proposition that will benefit us both.”

His chuckle of derision did not go unnoticed.

“You doubt me?” she asked.

“I doubt there is a solution I would agree to, and I assure you I’ve considered and discarded many options. As has my solicitor.” Alex set the apple aside. “I refuse to break my promise, and your father refuses to accept anything other than a marriage in payment for what I owe him. Thus, tomorrow morning you and I will be wed.”

“Of course we will,” Charlotte said with far too much enthusiasm.

He gave her a perplexed look. “I’m sorry. I thought the point was to avoid marriage.”

“The point,” she said, toying with a sapphire earring, “is to keep our promise to my father, is it not?”

Alex considered his response carefully. “Yes, but—”

“But the mutton is wonderful.” Charlotte smiled. “At least that’s what I was told. So please, have your lunch while I explain.” She paused. “I truly do believe I’ve found a way.”

He complied, as much from hunger as curiosity.

She inclined her head in his direction. “Do you recall what we discussed in relation to marriage some years ago in my grandfather’s parlor?”

Alex met her stare and one brow slowly lifted as a pleasant memory rose. “No, but I do recall a burning bustle and several memorable kisses. Were there two or three?”

The man was truly incorrigible. While she’d come here to solve their shared problem, her groom apparently preferred to bring up the embarrassments of the past. The temptation to remember those kisses tugged at her, but Charlotte held onto her dignity as well as her focus.

As she studied his features, every bit as handsome as she recalled, she forced herself to recall her purpose in making this visit.

“I’m going to ignore that.” She smoothed her skirt. “Now, about my plan. Just as you suggested some years ago, I propose we go through with the marriage and then, after sufficient time has passed, have it annulled. Isn’t that clever?”

“Clever.” He repeated the word as if he were hearing it for the first
time. “Are you serious? How could this possibly be a solution? We can’t just go through all the fuss of a wedding and then announce we’ve changed our minds.”

“Of course we can, though it’s not as simple as all that,” she said. “I did some checking, and you were correct. A marriage can be annulled if the couple does not …” She shrugged. “Well, you know.”

“Yes, all right,” he said slowly, “but how does this solve our problem?”

Charlotte warmed to the topic. “I promised Papa I would marry you if he allowed me to attend Wellesley and earn my degree. Unless I’m wrong, you’re marrying me because Papa loaned you money to save your family.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he snapped.

She’d hit a sensitive subject. Charlotte waved away his statement with a flutter of her hand. “With men it always is.”

“I had a prior arrangement, and he made it possible to …” The viscount worried with his watch chain. Though her hand in marriage had been mortgaged to save the Hambly family from ruin, there were obviously limits on the details Alex intended to reveal.

Slowly, his gaze swung up to collide with hers. At that moment, Charlotte knew she had two choices. She could play the simpering female and hope to manipulate Alex Hambly back into good humor and into agreeing to go along with her plan. Or she could get right to the heart of the matter.

“Why so shy about this, Alex?” She toyed with the sapphire necklace Grandfather gave her for her last birthday. “I’ve sold myself too, and for a much less noble cause.”

Charlotte sat very still and watched her future husband closely. Though he appeared to have dismissed her in favor of enjoying his
lunch, Charlotte suspected the astronomer was preparing what he planned to say in response.

After a moment, Alex dipped his head. “Thanks to your father, I was able to settle some accounts without resorting to …” He paused as if deciding whether to continue. “Well, I was able to settle the accounts.”

“And I was able to pursue a degree in mathematics.” She watched his interest pique. “Which I plan to use in running my grandfather’s company. And, eventually, my father’s as well.”

If Alex was surprised at the news, he did not show it. Rather, he seemed to be waiting for her to continue.

“So as you can imagine, a marriage and all that goes with it …”

“Such as a husband and children?” Alex offered.

“Yes. All good things, of course,” she continued, “but I had hoped to put the things I’ve learned to use before considering them.” She dared a peek in Alex’s direction. “I’m sure you cannot understand.”

Alex ran his hand through his dark hair, then shrugged. “It isn’t mine to understand, is it?”

Charlotte thought only a moment. “No, I suppose not. So have we a deal? Will you help me? Help both of us,” she amended.

Silence fell between them, punctuated by the occasional cry of seabirds outside the window. Unable to sit still any longer, Charlotte rose and went to the window. The view was lovely, just as she remembered. She spied a lone red ball atop one of the two cupolas on the building just beyond the lawn.

“Alex, what’s that?” When he joined her at the window, she gestured toward the oddity. “There. The red ball on the roof.”

He moved in close—exquisitely close—to follow the direction she pointed. Despite her best intentions to keep her distance, Charlotte
leaned into him. The viscount smelled of soap and some sort of woodsy spice. Sandalwood, perhaps.

“That is the Time Ball,” Alex said.

While he told her the tale of the timekeeping device, Charlotte closed her eyes and memorized his scent. Were she given to awakening each morning beside a husband—and she absolutely was not—she’d want him to smell as heavenly as this man.

“Do you wish to marry someone else?”

Charlotte’s eyes flew open to the sight of Alex watching her. Though she hoped he’d asked in jest, she could find no trace of humor on his face.

“Someone else? No.” She took a step back from the window. “I told you, Alex. I just don’t think I’m ready to be some poor man’s wife, and I know I’m not ready to be a mother. Not when I have so many ideas. For example, did you realize Beck Enterprises does not sell stock in the company?”

He shrugged in response.

“All right, well, my point is there are many things I wish to do, and marrying for love, then bearing my husband’s children is high on that list. But honestly, that cannot be arranged, can it?”