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

G reta wanted to die. If only one didn’t survive mortification. It felt like she was dying. She wished for it to be fatal. But she was well aware that it was not.

She had almost asked the gentleman to take her home. How salaciously scandalous that would be! It had popped into her mind and almost out of her mouth.

Of course, she hadn’t meant anything suggestive about the thought. She had meant home to her estate. But she couldn’t accept the escort of a gentleman she barely knew on such an excursion, even if that was what he had meant by his question, which obviously it was not. He had meant to ask if she was committed to another partner or if she wanted to attend her chaperone.

But she wanted out of this debutante business.

Was she still a debutante in her second year? Unlikely. Debutante implied one’s debut. The beginning. She wasn’t at the beginning of anything. It was her second Season. She wished it was her last. Or that she had never agreed to her aunt’s insistence that she needed to go up to London at all.

If only she wasn’t so determined to remain in Lady Gertrude’s good graces. That’s what came of being a lonely orphan, she supposed.

Perhaps Bath or Tunbridge or Brighton. No, not Brighton. That was where the wild set went. She was most definitely not one to fit in with that crowd.

Greta sighed a little. There was nothing for it. She needed a husband as quickly as possible.

That Mr. Darby would likely do, even if he had seemed relieved to see the back of her. He was sufficiently well connected to satisfy Aunt Gertrude despite not having a title. And from the perceptive gleam in his eye, Greta suspected he had his wits about him.

But perhaps he was too perceptive. Was that a possibility? It wasn’t one she had ever encountered. Nor even considered might possibly be something that existed.

And a gentleman who left one feeling mortified wasn’t likely to be a comfortable life’s companion. Not to say that he had mortified her on purpose. It was Greta’s own fault for the inappropriate thought that had passed through her mind. She was only grateful that a lifetime of guarding her words had prevented the passing thought from popping out of her mouth.

But she suspected he had known there was something else she had wanted to say.

He was far too light-hearted, she decided. It had been disconcerting to see his eyes dancing with laughter every time she had opened her mouth. She hadn’t been jesting. Not even once. She was not the sort. Life was serious. Her own experiences had taught her that.

Perhaps she was jealous.

What a ridiculous thought, she admonished herself as she tried to look busy by accepting the goblet of punch and sipping at it slowly. It would be far less humiliating if anyone watching her thought she was refraining from being on the dance floor due to unquenchable thirst rather than the absence of an invitation.

But was that the issue? Was she jealous of Mr. Darby’s levity?

He likely had every reason for being light-hearted. From what she had observed of the gentleman, he wasn’t required to attend too many of these interminable Society events, but when he did, he seemed immensely popular with both ladies and gentlemen.

He always arrived with at least one or two friends. Rumour had it he lived with fellow students at the estate Roderick and Lucy Northcott had purchased prior to their marriage.

Even she, a wallflower, had heard all about the scientific pursuits of the gentlemen the Northcotts were sponsoring. It was strange to her but also fascinating and another thing to be envious about.

The friendships they must enjoy , she thought with a little sigh.

That was certainly prompted by jealousy, she agreed with her assessment. She only counted the servants at home as her friends. And they were paid to be kind to her. Or they had been so since she was born. They likely weren’t truly her friends. None of them save the housekeeper had written to her since she had been absent from the property.

Even the vicar’s wife had barely written.

She supposed it was her less than approachable personality. But she didn’t mean to be so unapproachable. It just seemed to come naturally. This thought actually amused her. What would the Northcott scientists have to say about her prickliness being natural? Did any of the scientists study such a thing?

Perhaps she would ask Mrs. Northcott, if she followed through on her invitation to take her riding.

Greta didn’t expect it and wouldn’t be surprised nor offended if the other woman didn’t show up as promised. It had been a decidedly odd encounter. Perhaps the woman was in her cups or over stimulated from being in company for the first time in a while considering she had just left her confinement.

How soon could she prevail upon Lady Gertrude to leave?

They hadn’t likely been there long enough yet, Greta realized as a glance at a conveniently located clock indicated it hadn’t even struck midnight yet.

“Might I have the pleasure of the next set?”

Greta nearly dropped her cup. Another gentleman inviting her? What had happened?

“Why thank you,” she managed to stammer out this time.

It was a better response than the one she had offered the handsome Mr. Darby. Perhaps she could behave a little more conventionally this time.

“We have been introduced, but you might not remember me,” the gentleman offered. “I have been out of the country for nearly a year, only having just returned.”

“Oh, how fascinating. Did you enjoy your travels?”

“I did, thank you for asking. And I’m happy to report that I survived them, as well.”

Greta knew she looked ridiculous with her eyes so wide, but it was a difficult thing to control.

“Was that in question?” she asked as she allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.

Despite his admission that she likely didn’t know him, he hadn’t reminded her of his name, so she was uncertain of the proper address. She hated being wrong-footed, but he didn’t seem to notice so she tried to ignore her discomfort. His laughter was rich sounding but embarrassed her as eyes were drawn in their direction.

“I suppose that’s evident by your presence here,” she managed to answer her own question primly, prompting another laugh despite her frown in his direction. Thankfully, this time, his laughter was slightly more subdued, whether from realizing he was embarrassing her or because he realized no one else was laughing loudly in the crowded ballroom.

“I saw you dancing with Darby earlier,” the man began as they stepped into the dance.

Greta blinked, wondering what his comment might mean.

Was that why he asked her to dance? Was this some sort of strange male competition?

She wasn’t sure if she could bear it if it was. But that was a foolish thought. She had already proven to herself she could bear up under nearly anything. She had already suffered the greatest loss anyone could bear with the death of her parents from that ridiculous plague that had swept through their village.

“Do you usually spend time in Town when you aren’t travelling the world?” Greta asked the question when it didn’t seem there was anything else to be said.

“Only last year. I’m not as well connected as some of the other fellows, so I had never come up to Town except to meet with a benefactor, and that didn’t include any of these posh gatherings. It’s only been since I’ve connected with the Northcotts that I’ve been invited. But then I went and left so I haven’t been to any since. The trip ended up being twice as long as expected due to the troubles we ran into so now, here I am, late to the party, it would seem.”

Greta knew a frown was creasing her forehead, but she couldn’t seem to erase it. She hadn’t understood most of what the man had said.

She had understood each word, of course. He was speaking the King’s English. But the meaning behind his sentences seemed to elude her. She nodded and offered a tight smile anyway, hoping he wouldn’t ask her anything that would force her to reveal her ignorance.

“What of you, Miss? Do you enjoy spending time in Town? I expect you must since you are here once more.”

Again, with the unanswerable statements. What was she supposed to say to that? She decided to ignore his question since he seemed to have answered it for himself even if his response was inaccurate.

“Did your travels get delayed because you were enjoying your destination or because of the dangers you alluded to earlier?” she finally asked. She didn’t know the man and so couldn’t ask about family or acquaintances.

“While I quite enjoyed most of the stops we made, it was the storms that nearly shipwrecked us that held me up the most. The storm season struck much earlier than expected and then we had to remain there making repairs far longer than we should have.” His heavy sigh left no question as to the fact that he took no personal responsibility for the delays.

“Well, as you said, it is good you survived,” Greta pointed out, trying to remain positive. She couldn’t have explained why since she was usually the pessimistic one.

“To be sure. And now here I am sharing the ballroom with a bonny lass.”

She hadn’t heard a single hint of brogue in his voice until then. Greta wondered if it had been put on, as though to amuse her or himself. In either case, she certainly wasn’t going to allow his compliment to turn her head when she considered that it was likely as insincere as the rest of his speech.

“Will you be remaining in Town for long?”

“Not if it can be helped,” he said with a grin and a nod, as though to excuse his rude reply. “Lucy is likely to have my head since I’ve just arrived, but I have to get back to the estate and sort out my findings before they all flit right out of my head. I’m not sure if she’ll understand, but Roddie surely will.”

Again, Greta smiled and nodded as though in agreement with his odd statements. She could tell from his statements he was one of the Northcotts’ scholars.

She was beginning to wonder if eccentricity was one of the requirements for their Scholarly Society. Not that Mr. Darby had been terribly odd, but both gentlemen were different than most she had encountered in the higher echelons of the ton .

Of course, they both admitted to not being noblemen so that might explain their oddities as well. But she supposed it likely that anyone who spent their lives studying science was likely to be different from the norm.

Greta was intrigued by the thought.

Did they allow women into their scholarly society?

Unlikely considering women weren’t welcomed into most advanced educational institutions. But the thought of picking a topic and pursuing more knowledge on the subject was very appealing to her. Perhaps, if she could convince her aunt to allow it, she would give up on this entire Season nonsense, return to her estate, and find a subject of research for herself.

“Has Lucy invited you to visit?” She had allowed her thoughts to wander and was surprised by the gentleman’s question. For a moment she wondered who this Lucy was that he was asking about before it dawned on her that he likely meant Mrs. Northcott.

“We aren’t that well acquainted,” she said as way of an excuse.

“Just wait. She’ll be on you for a visit before long, I’m sure.”

The expression on the gentleman’s face was so mischievous that Greta was unaccountably nervous for a moment before she was able to dismiss the odd sensation.

“We are to go for a drive in the Park tomorrow,” she said in lieu of a direct response to his statement.

The gentleman nodded as though it made sense. A smile twitched the corners of Greta’s serious expression. She was unused to finding anything amusing at a ball. But then again, she was also unused to dancing much at a ball, either. Perhaps that was the reason for her vastly different mood.

Suddenly she had the creeping sensation that she was being watched. And she didn’t think it was the man she was dancing with.

Despite it being less than polite, she allowed her gaze to travel the room as they performed the steps of the dance. She nearly faltered when she realized it was Mr. Darby, her previous dance partner. With a frown creasing her forehead, she brought her attention back to the gentleman she was with, trying to smooth out her frown.

While she wasn’t going to pretend to a levity she didn’t experience, even she knew frowning at her dance partner was rude and unacceptable.

But why was Mr. Darby watching them so attentively?