Page 2 of An Heiress and An Astronomer (Gentleman Scholars #3)

"W ould you be a dear and try to speak with that woman or dance with her or something?”

Without giving the matter thought, Pierce immediately started to do as Lucy asked. He didn’t even ask who she’d meant.

Pierce wasn’t sure why he was bothering except that they all did whatever Lucy bade them to do.

His thoughts had been caught up on the problem he was working on for the latest lens on his telescope. He hadn’t wanted to tell Lucy where his mind had been so he hadn’t admitted that his thoughts were elsewhere when she made her strange request.

Lucy would have taken him to task for allowing his thoughts to remain on science when he ought to be being sociable. This made him react quickly to her request without investigating it further.

He would be kicked out of the Scholarly Society for doing something so foolish.

A scientist never did anything without investigation.

Of course, the fellows were then likely to cackle with glee as they reminded him once more that astronomers weren’t real scientists.

They’d be singing a different tune once his telescope became known.

Or if he could find the treasure.

Pierce was convinced the treasure the scholars had been searching for over the past months must be the lost legendary library he had heard whispered about in some of his classes at Oxford. If he could find it, surely, he would be the most famous scholar of his time. And the others would have to stop ribbing him.

But that was a matter for another day. Lucy had asked him, or rather commanded him, to approach this woman and ask her for a dance. While she wasn’t strikingly beautiful, she wasn’t painful to look upon so Pierce couldn’t imagine why she would need any assistance from someone like him since he was barely active socially himself. But as he had already castigated himself for, he hadn’t asked for an explanation from Lucy, so here he was, approaching the woman with very little information.

“I believe we were introduced at Roderick and Lucy Northcott’s wedding,” he said when she continued to look at him expectantly.

“I believe we were, yes,” she agreed with a very slight smile.

Her reserve stirred his curiosity. Was she afraid he was just another fortune hunter?

He was, of course, if one refined too much upon it. But not really. His Grandfather Ingleshire was generous enough to keep him in spending money and had promised to support his studies until he could support himself but hadn’t gone so far as to offer a settlement.

Pierce didn’t resent that, nor did he resent the fact that the majority of his grandfather’s considerable wealth would go to his cousin, the heir. Pierce was his own father’s second son, not in line to inherit from anyone unless one of his parents’ eccentric distant relatives thought to bequeath him something when they passed.

But he was determined to make his own way if he had his say on the matter. Or he would end up marrying a pleasant enough heiress. Perhaps someone like the miss before him.

But surely, he had plenty of time left before he truly had to worry about such matters. Not that he had anything against marriage. From what he had seen thus far of his friends’ marriages, it might be something to aspire to at some point. But now was not that point. He had to secure his own future first. And the Royal Society’s endorsement, of course.

He had only approached this woman because Lucy had asked him to. And he ought to get on with it, he prodded himself.

“Are you finished with your drink? It sounds as though the next set is to be a cotillion, would you like to partner with me?”

She cast a sharp glance at him that he couldn’t quite interpret, and Pierce wondered if she were about to refuse him. Was that why she wasn’t dancing? Had she refused someone else and now couldn’t accept another invitation?

Pink tinged her cheeks in a becoming manner leaving Pierce to nearly panic over what he ought to do with his unanswered invitation. Should he withdraw? Should he continue to stare at her in expectation?

Before he could spiral into a nervous tizzy, a gentle smile spread her face, and she put her hand out. Pierce stared at it as though unsure what it was for the space of a heartbeat before realizing she was accepting his invitation.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said with a slight curtsy.

Pierce tried not to stare at her. It was the curse of a scholar – the ability to focus intently on whatever they were studying.

But in a social setting it was off putting, or so he had been told on numerous occasions by family members, especially his mother and grandfather. The Marquis of Ingleshire was determined that all his grandchildren behave in a manner befitting their noble family whether they were titled or not.

Apparently studying people as though they were specimens under a magnifying glass was not the way a marquis’ grandson ought to behave.

But if that were not the case, he would most definitely be staring intently at Miss Greta Billingsley.

He had thought her plain upon first encountering her at Roderick’s wedding and even again that evening. For some strange reason it would seem she had gone to some effort to give that impression.

Her gown, while seemingly of the same cut, style, and fineness as the other young women present, didn’t seem to flatter her. Perhaps it was the colour. He couldn’t be sure. And her hair was pulled into a style that could only be described as severe.

With her features, it was not the best choice. But on closer inspection, he found her eyes, nose, and cheek bones were dainty, not pointy. Pierce suspected a more poufy hairstyle like his sister tended to sport would be much more attractive on the young lady in his arms.

Did she not know that? Or had no one made a suggestion otherwise? Or did she not wish to appear to advantage?

His curiosity was well and truly piqued.

Was that why Lucy had sent him? Or was Lucy up to her matchmaking once more?

Pierce reminded himself to ask the other fellows who the ladies were on Lucy’s list, if they knew. From what Pierce had learned, Lucy had a list of women she was determined to assist in some way, her preference was to find them each a good match.

He almost tripped at the thought.

Did Lucy consider him a good match?

Was that why she had sent him on this errand?

Did he mind if it were true?

He had just been thinking he would need a well dowered wife. But he had meant someday. After he presented his inventions to the Royal Society. Certainly not now. Or soon. He only hoped he didn’t shudder with his thoughts. He needed to turn them lest he give them away and shame himself.

“Have you been enjoying the evening?” he asked, prompting conversation. The young lady was not the best conversationalist it would seem as she had not as of yet made an effort to engage him.

“It has had its moments,” she answered, confusing him with her brevity. What could she mean by that?

Pierce couldn’t decide if he was intrigued by the challenge she presented or irritated by the lack of effort she seemed to be expending. But then he caught sight of her nibbling her lip as though nerves were assaulting her.

It was a brief action, one that she controlled promptly. But it was enough to soften his hardening attitude toward her, and sympathy flooded him. Perhaps she was merely inexperienced, not as standoffish as she was portraying. And mayhap that was the reason she had been standing by herself on the sidelines.

If she was too nervous to act like the others, most wouldn’t make the effort to see past her differences.

He sighed a little as his chivalry became engaged. He was going to have to help her. And in a moment of enlightenment, he was certain that was why Lucy had asked him to speak with the woman. Lucy was well aware of his upbringing and inclinations.

All the scholars were similar.

They had all found themselves misfits at one time or another. It was what had drawn them together at school. It had given them all a similar compulsion to help others.

Some of the fellows had the affliction worse than others. Roderick seemed to have it the worst of all, since he was the one who had gathered them all together and created a home for them with his new wife, Lucy, by his side.

But none of the others objected when there was a human project to be cared for.

First there was Lady Evangeline. The entire Scholarly Society had come to her aid with her investigation about her first husband’s wealth and now the treasure hunt she had started them on and they were now all obsessed with. Of course, Sean had been the one to help her the most and now they were wed.

Then there was the new Earl of Beaverbrook. He had been Viscount Severn or even just Mr. Ellis Dorval when he had been with the scholars. But he had found himself compelled to help the paid companion who had become involved with Lady Evangeline’s affairs. Pierce was nearly certain Lucy had put her fingers into that situation too.

It almost made him miss his steps.

Now Lucy was sending him on errands involving a young woman of the gentry. Ought he to run screaming from the room?

That might be his inclination, but it would hardly be proper, and his grandfather would have his head.

All his relations would, to be sure. Not that this carried too much weight with him. It was Roderick’s opinion that mattered the most. And that fine gentleman would surely take him to task for mistreating one of his wife’s friends.

“Have you been in Town long?” Pierce tried another question.

After thinking the matter through, Pierce knew he had to keep trying. If the woman was strange or nervous or feeling uncomfortable, she was a kindred spirit. If she was just rude or haughty, he knew enough of those, he could surely manage. In either case, he was obliged to be a gentleman.

“We came up just before the Season opened. Or I suppose one could say before Parliament opened,” she added with a slight smile. “My aunt was determined that we shop extensively despite all that we still had from the previous Season.”

A spendthrift, then, Pierce thought with a smile he kept in bounds. It would not do to offend the woman despite her seemingly crusty nature. If there was going to be a scene of any sort, Pierce wanted no part of it.

“I shouldn’t begrudge her spending my money, I know, but it feels decidedly odd.”

Pierce frowned. “What do you mean?”

A flush covered her from the neckline of her gown to the top of her head. Likely everywhere else from the fierceness of the colour, but that was all that Pierce could see. It was clear the girl hadn’t realized what she had said. She opened her mouth as though to answer his question, but no sound emerged.

“I beg your pardon,” she stammered. After a couple more unintelligible utterances, she offered him what appeared to be a tightly forced smile and turned the questions upon him. “What of you? Have you been enjoying your evening? Are you here for the sitting of Parliament?”

Pierce thought to pursue his own questions but given her discomfort he allowed her to turn the subject.

“I am not involved in Parliament, although I have family members that take their seats in the House of Lords. The Season isn’t particularly to my liking, to be truthful. I would much rather be on our estate running experiments or some such. But my family commands my attention for at least a portion of the time. And the others were coming so I came too.”

He could tell from the slight frown and inquisitive expression upon her face that she hadn’t fully understood everything he had said, but she was either disinterested or had been taught it was impolite to pelt someone with questions.

Pierce didn’t mind the prying of the curious, for the most part, as long as it was motivated by true curiosity rather than an interest in gossip. He couldn’t abide the tattlers of the high society in which his family intermingled. That was just one of the many reasons he avoided the ton as much as possible.

“As for this particular evening,” Pierce continued when she didn’t appear as though she were about to comment on what he had already said. “It has started to improve.”

Her eyes widened when he turned his practiced courtier’s smile upon her and now it was she who was nearly missing a step as she faltered for the briefest moment.

Suddenly, though, her face lightened with genuine amusement and a quiet little puff of laughter escaped her. Escaped was the correct word because she appeared nearly as surprised as he was by the sound.

Pierce suspected the serious young woman didn’t laugh nearly enough for her own well-being. He was swept with the urge to rectify that but firmly admonished himself that it was not his obligation to do so. If Miss Billingsley were to become one of Lucy’s projects, she was for Lucy to see to, not Pierce Darby.

Before he could work himself up into a serious worry over the subject, the cotillion came to its end. With a bow and a curtsy, they took their leave of the other couples in their set. Pierce offered her his elbow before asking, “Where should I escort you?”

A flicker of a thought flitted across her face before he could catch it to analyze. He wondered what she had been about to say but he didn’t think he ought to question her on it.

“My aunt is over there,” she said with a vague gesture toward the corner of the room. “But you needn’t escort me. I could probably benefit from another small glass of punch.” Her eyes widened as though with mortification and she quickly added, “But I am perfectly capable of seeing to that myself. Thank you, Mr. Darby, it has been a pleasure.”

With another small curtsy and before he could stop her, she swept herself off from his presence.