Page 23 of An Heiress and An Astronomer (Gentleman Scholars #3)

T he woman was surely daft. Perhaps not, though, Pierce cautioned himself as he noted careful intelligence gleaming in her watchful gaze.

“Why are you stalking fortune hunters?”

Her gaze turned to a glare.

“I am doing no such thing,” she protested.

“It looks very much like it to me,” Pierce countered. “First Lord Eustace who, mind you, didn’t appear terribly enamoured with your overtures, then Lord Jarvis who seemed to quickly warm to the idea. And now, if I’m not mistaken, you are heading directly for the poverty-stricken Viscount Engleburn.”

“And what business is it of yours, in any case, even if any of that were true?” Greta argued, lifting her chin into the air, refusing to be shamed by her determination. “A wellborn woman must wed, according to everyone who has advised me. Why should I not use my inheritance as a negotiating tool to ensure my future security?”

Pierce stared at the woman feeling as though the life was about to be squeezed from his chest. Was it really that simple? She needed a husband. She had an inheritance to bargain with. Why not use it to her advantage?

But if that were true, why not consider him?

It was a seductive thought. One he truly oughtn’t pursue until his sciences were settled.

“So, it’s a title you’re after, then,” he found himself saying despite his determination to remain unfettered.

The woman before him sighed and shook her head before lowering it in a dejected manner.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing, to be honest with you. I just don’t want to keep doing this. They seemed pleasant enough. A man with a title will please my aunt. And I thought a titled gentleman would have at least been taught genteel behaviour, so I needn’t be terribly concerned for my future treatment. And if they are sufficiently desperate for my funds, they will be willing to negotiate with me.”

Pierce’s curiosity was well and truly piqued.

“What are your demands?” he asked, even as he drew her a little behind a potted plant in order to offer a semblance of privacy that wouldn’t cause unwarranted gossip but would keep her words from being easily overheard.

She bit her lip in an adorable fashion that did unmentionable things to his equilibrium. Years of studious behaviour, though, helped him cling to his senses.

“I am uncertain if I should confide in you, Mr. Darby,” she said with starch returning to her voice before her expression turned beseeching and her tone softened. “But perhaps you can tell me your opinion as a gentleman, if I’m being completely soft-headed to think anyone would agree to my terms.”

“Of course,” he answered immediately, now more than eager to hear what she had to say. “I will help in any way that I can.”

She nodded and glanced around as though to ensure no one could overhear.

“I want all my children to receive an inheritance.”

She looked as though she had revealed a scandalous secret and for a second Pierce hesitated.

“How many do you have?”

She blinked and stared before bursting into laughter.

“None yet, silly.”

“Well then I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I don’t want everything going to the firstborn male. I want generous endowments for all the children, no matter how many I might be blessed with.”

Light dawned in Pierce’s mind. “Even younger sons, is what you mean, right? Because providing for girls is usual, but you are concerned about any boys who don’t get the title.”

Her eager nod was endearing but Pierce forced himself to remain attentive to the subject despite the urge to drop a light kiss to her upturned nose. That would be a sure way to bring scandal upon their heads and a short trip up a long aisle.

“That shouldn’t be a complete impediment to reaching an agreement with any gentleman, I wouldn’t think.”

“But don’t you think most would want it all to go to their heir?”

“Is your inheritance terribly small, then?” Pierce countered, causing her brow to wrinkle in confusion.

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“I would think, if you know the amount of your current funds, you would be able to agree on a certain amount that would be tied up in the heir and then the rest could be distributed suitably.”

The woman nodded, her brow still wrinkled, but this time it appeared to be deep thought rather than distress.

“What if he squanders it, though?”

“Tie it up sufficiently,” Pierce replied immediately, causing a sunny smile to stretch her face. “And if his estates are tumbling down around you and your pockets are deep enough, settle an initial sum on the estate first. That should calm his concerns quite nicely.”

Why was he telling her this? Why was he helping her match with one of these unworthy lords who would likely take her money and leave her behind while they carry on with whatever life they want for themselves that doesn’t include her?

He was the stupidest scientist on the planet.

The Royal Society would never welcome him into their midst were they to ever find out how truly unintelligent he really was.

He ought to tell her he would happily allow her to divide her wealth however she’d like if she would have those children with him. But what about his science? Pierce didn’t believe Lucy’s claims that having a family wouldn’t interfere with his pursuits.

He was too close to his goals to change his course now.

Greta interrupted his spiraling train of thought.

“I nearly forgot. I brought you a copy of the poem I found. Did you think about whether or not it tied in any way to the clues you had already found?”

Pierce pulled himself together enough to reply. “There was previous reference to rose gardens and nighttime or darkness, so we thought there might be some connection, but we still don’t know how to decipher it all.

“Thank you for this,” he added, taking the paper from her and shoving it into his pocket without looking at it. He couldn’t get excited about the treasure hunt in a fraught moment like this. “You ought to be more careful, Miss Billingsley. Passing notes at a large event like this is only going to lead to gossip.”

The stricken expression on her face made him feel as though he had slapped her himself and he wished he could take the words back. It wasn’t her fault he was in tumult.

“My apologies, truly, Greta,” he stammered. “It would seem I am always in need of apologizing to you.”

To Pierce’s surprise, this prompted a little laugh from her that sounded genuine rather than forced.

“Thank you, Pierce,” she replied in a low tone, careful to ensure she wasn’t overheard. “I appreciate your apology as well as your caution. But I had thought since you had directed us into a little bit of privacy that it would be all right. You are correct, though, I have no desire to court Society’s censure. I would, however, be delighted to take my leave of Society, thus my rather demented devotion to finding my match as quickly as possible. I appreciate your insights,” she added with a smile even as she turned her attention back to the crowds milling about before them.

“What about me?” Pierce blurted out.

“I beg your pardon,” she said as she brought her confused focus back to his face. “What about you?”

Pierce knew the heat of embarrassment was likely riding high on his face, but he couldn’t take back his words. Nor did he want to. They would have to figure out how to both reach their desired ends together because he couldn’t allow her to go off into her future with one of those unworthy fortune hunters.

“Why not consider a match with me?” He breathed out the words. “I may not have a title, but I’m far from being bad ton ,” he pointed out.

She stared at him for a moment in puzzlement before another laugh escaped her. “Was that a proposal?” she asked, not appearing delighted but neither did she seem dismayed.

“Not really the best location for this discussion, is it?” he asked, suddenly sheepish. “Might I call on you tomorrow and discuss the matter?”

Her smile was suddenly shy, but she nodded through her bashfulness. It might not have been terribly romantic, but Pierce couldn’t help the soaring sensation that swept through him. He was going to be able to manage everything.

But the next day was his meeting with the Royal Society, and he nearly missed both his chance with Greta and the recognition he so desired.

“We will need to see some evidence before we can give you a definitive answer,” the gentleman who received him said after keeping him waiting nearly an hour despite his having arrived on the dot of two o’clock as he’d been instructed.

“Evidence?” Pierce repeated. “I sent my evidence with my application.”

“We do not accept your word for it, Mr. Darby. We will need to see for ourselves. Bring your telescopes with you to your next appointment. That will be all. Good day.”

Pierce wanted to argue and rail against the injustice being done to him, but he feared that would only make the situation worse, so he managed to hold his tongue until he found himself on the sidewalk outside the Royal Society’s intimidating edifice.

And then he once more nearly cast up his accounts.

What was he to do? He wasn’t going to hand over his telescope to them. Who could say what they would do with it? If they were going to be this domineering and distrustful, he wasn’t sure if he could work with them.

But how else was he to gain the recognition he hungered for?

He glanced at his pocket watch. He had wasted far too long on this errand. Did he have time to call on Greta? Would she even still be awaiting his visit?

He had in all actuality declared himself to her the night before. Would she have him? He had nothing to show for himself. Why would she bother with the likes of him? And should he dally with her when he had so little to offer?

He couldn’t leave her dangling on a string after how he had so foolishly spoken to her the night before. He had to at least see her.