Page 21 of An Heiress and An Astronomer (Gentleman Scholars #3)
P ierce watched in dismay as the lovely young woman entered her home without a backward glance. He shouldn’t be so surprised or disheartened or disappointed about it. He should be relieved. The whole point was that he didn’t want to stir up any sort of expectations in the poor dear’s feelings or intentions. Or rather he didn’t want her thinking he had any sort of intentions toward her.
He was confusing himself with his jumbled-up thoughts. He had thought they were getting along famously as he walked her home. She had seemed excited about his destination this afternoon when he’d told her about applying to the Royal Society.
“What can they do for you?” she had asked with an inquisitive tilt to her head.
“They will add legitimacy to my studies.”
Her nose wrinkled in confusion. “Is there a question of their legitimacy?” she asked. “How is that possible?”
“If they can vouch for me, then I will have the respect of the community.”
Her stare had made him squirm, so he was relieved when she didn’t comment further. It was obvious to him she thought it odd, but he wasn’t sure if it was lack of understanding or questioning his need for respect. He didn’t want to ask. But he felt slighted when she didn’t wave goodbye from the door. Another silliness on his part. With a shake of his head, he turned on his heel.
He had promised to allow her to assist with the search. As it turned out she was allowing him to assist with the search, he acknowledged with a grin, thinking of how he had found her hunched over a pile of books, grimy with dust, in a bookstore. There was nothing so attractive to a scholar as a woman who loved books.
He knew in their rarified world of the ton it was a less than popular opinion. But he wasn’t really of the ton despite being the Marquis’ grandson. He had chosen the world of scholarship and it was one he loved and understood far better than that of High Society.
But it would seem that Miss Greta Billingsley understood both worlds the same way he did.
But that didn’t matter one jot, he reminded himself. Stop staring at her door like a moonstruck calf . The Marquis would be ashamed, he added for good measure and for extra motivation to get himself together. He had an appointment to arrange with the Royal Society. He had already told them to expect him but didn’t have a specific audience arranged. That needed to change.
They wanted to discuss his lenses.
He had nearly grown prostrate with excitement when the letter had finally arrived just before he left for Town. It was a good thing he had already decided to come up to Town to offer his apologies to Greta.
Not that she had extracted a true apology from him.
Lucy would be disappointed if she were to ever find out. Grandfather would be even more so.
Pierce forced his feet to take him away from Greta’s doorstep. Once he got himself sufficiently away, his steps grew brisker and his excitement mounted. The Royal Society wanted to meet with him. His excitement surged. The Royal Society wanted to meet with him , Pierce Darby, the one no one ever thought would amount to anything.
Not his family, with the exception of Grandfather, of course, not his classmates or professors at Oxford, not even the other scholars, or so it felt to Pierce although he knew he might be exaggerating that particular matter. Each fellow studied something different. He oughtn’t to be painting them with the same colour as his internal thoughts.
The fellows would be happy for him, he knew that for certain. There could be a degree of envy or jealousy, of course, that was only natural since they all wanted their work to be recognized.
But finally his work was garnering the attention it deserved. His lenses were going to make him known, just as he knew they would. Pride filled his chest even as his nerves mounted.
What if they read his research and dismissed him? What if he couldn’t present it in a way that they thought was sensible?
Stop it, man, you’ve been studying for this your entire life , he finally reprimanded himself, stemming the flow of his thoughts by cataloguing all the stars that had already been named in the known quadrant he had been studying. Surely that would order his mind.
By the time he stood before the imposing edifice that housed all the Royal Academies, Pierce had himself well under command. With a deep breath, he lifted the knocker and gave it a resounding knock. Almost instantly, as though they’d known he was standing there, the door opened, and a very serious butler regarded him as though he were a bug that ought to be squashed.
“I am Darby, Pierce Darby. I was invited to make an appointment.”
“Did you make one?” the butler asked, his eyebrows lifting imperiously.
“Not yet, that is why I’m standing here.”
“You ought to have sent a note.”
“Perhaps,” Pierce acknowledged. “I thought this would be more efficient,” he added with a grin he couldn’t repress despite the disapproval written all over the gatekeeper’s face.
“Very well, return tomorrow at 2 o’clock sharp.”
“I will be here,” Pierce agreed immediately with a nod and turned on his heel.
Now that the meeting was set, he thought he might cast up his accounts. If he was going to be ill, he wanted at least the privacy of a shrub or some such. At the very least, he did not want to be directly in front of the Royal Academy of Sciences.
He managed to reach Everleigh House without shaming himself and had restored most of his equilibrium by the time he entered that imposing edifice. But it was a familiar space and a world he knew. There was nothing to worry him there. Except perhaps the whirl of activity that filled the entire entryway when he arrived.
“Pierce,” Lucy exclaimed as soon as she caught sight of him. “We were wondering if we would see you. How goes it?”
Pierce couldn’t help grinning over Lucy’s flare of dramatics. “They will see me tomorrow,” he said, without a need to explain further. Lucy flew into his arms with a tight congratulatory hug while Roderick clapped him on the shoulder in a more gentlemanly acknowledgement.
“Wonderful news,” Lucy exclaimed once she extricated herself from the mess she had made of the baggage at their feet. “And have you seen Greta or is that too soon?”
“I saw her before I went to the Academy, as a matter of fact,” Pierce said, pleased at the delighted expression on Lucy’s face.
“Oh, good for you, Pierce. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have the forbearance. I am relieved to hear I was wrong,” she added with a laugh.
“She was searching the bookstore when I found her.”
Lucy stared at him. “She doesn’t hold a grudge, does she?”
“That or her curiosity is of a similar level as the rest of us,” he agreed with a laugh that the others joined in on.
“Let us sort out this mess and then you can tell us all about it.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell beyond what I’ve already said, but I will happily help with the unpacking.”
“Oh, no, gentlemen, madam.” The footmen stepped forward to take over the task and the scholarly society denizens were soon ensconced in a salon with tea, discussing Pierce’s enervating circumstances.