A Slight Miscalculation Read online

  Worthe’s head was spinning. There were moments of elegance in science; brief seconds of peace, satisfaction and certainty when one at last understood a truth that fit into the puzzle that was the universe.

  Jane Tillney had just handed him the sweetest puzzle piece he’d ever encountered—and he’d instinctively recognized the extreme correctness of it. More than an elegant moment, it had been a turning point on the path of his life.

  It took a while to get back to Mayfair from Islington, but he arrived before the start of fashionable visiting hours. Ignoring her butler’s protest, he barged right in to his mother’s home and on up to her rooms.

  She sat in front of her mirror, applying cream to her face. “Worthe!” she gasped. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything is fine, Mother.” He stepped in and perched upon the nearby bed. “I have so much to tell you.”

  Chapter Five

  “I’ll hear no more about the theater!” Lady Tillney called as she swept out of the room. “We’re going to Lord Dayle’s ball. Fetch your wrap.”

  Jane rose languidly. Two days had passed since Lord Worthe had kissed her so beautifully—and she’d had no word since. Sighing, she took her cloak from the maid. Perhaps she would look for a German prince tonight.

  She’d worn her best, a jeweled ivory satin over a brilliant green under dress. For naught, it would seem. She fought back tears as she started down the stairs.

  “Good evening.”

  Jane gasped. He was here at last, looking dashing in evening finery, standing in the entry below and smiling up at her. An unfamiliar lady, decked in jewels, waited behind him.

  “I wondered if you would mind changing your plans?” He shot her a grin. “I understand there is a very fine play debuting tonight in Sadler’s Wells.”

  “Who’s this? What’s this?” Her mother came up behind her and called down to her father, who hovered in the open doorway to his study. “Who are these people, Tillney? Send them off. We’re for Lord Dayle’s ball.”

  “Oh, do hush, Cassandra,” the strange lady called out.

  “Your mother?” Jane asked.

  Worthe nodded and her smile grew even wider.

  Lady Tillney pushed past her, peering downward. “Minerva Hampton? Is that you? Whatever are you up to now?”

  “It is I. We can discuss how long it has been later. Right now I believe my son is about to propose to your daughter. Let’s allow them to get to it, shall we?”

  “Your son!” the baroness gasped in horror. Then understanding dawned, or she must have suddenly recalled her Debrett’s. “Oh, your son the viscount!” She hurried down the rest of the stairs. “Welcome, my lord!” She’d flipped from horror to ecstasy without a hitch. “I suppose we might consider attending the theater this evening.”

  He nodded to her and then stepped around her, stopping at the bottom step and holding out a hand.

  Jane came down, stopped on the last stair and took it. “Is that why you’ve come?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve made a couple more miscalculations.”

  She bit back a smile. “Surely you don’t need me to fix them.”

  “But I do.” He lifted his hand and touched her cheek. “I miscalculated how important it is that I see these stars every morning when I awake.”

  She frowned. “Stars?”

  He grinned. “The constellation Andromeda. The princess, in fact, etched very finely in freckles across your lovely nose and onto those soft cheeks.”

  Her hand flew to her face. “I’ve always hated those freckles!”

  “Well, you’ll have to stop that, as of right now.” His tone had gone low. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss where his finger had just been.

  Behind him, her father cleared his throat.

  “Yes.” Worthe straightened. “There’s also another worrisome number plaguing me, almost beyond calculation.”

  She took his other hand, clasped them both to her bosom. “And what is that?”

  “It’s the sheer number of hours, days, months and years I would be miserable without you.” His mouth twisted. “If I promise to look up from my telescope when you prod me, to allow you to check all of my calculations before I send them out, if I vow to make your search for those in need as important as my search of the stars, then will you make a connection with me?”

  Tears rose in her eyes as she nodded her agreement. “Yes, Lord Worthe. I will.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “Let’s start our own constellation, shall we?”

  He pulled her close. “I don’t know what shape it shall take, but I know it will shine bright.”

  Author’s Note

  Astronomy was becoming more popular during this period of the Regency. William and Caroline Herschel were two of the well-known scientists working in the field. Clubs and societies were springing up and people were applying developments in other fields such as math, physics and chemistry to their understanding of the universe.

  In truth, though, the first recorded mathematical computations of the variations in Uranus’s orbit did not come until nearly thirty years later. They led to the discovery of the planet Neptune. I hope the reader will forgive me. I felt that giving Jane and Worthe their HEA warranted a little fudging of dates.

  About the Author

  Deb Marlowe adores History, England and Men In Boots. Clearly she was destined to write Regency Historical Romance.

  A Golden Heart winner and Rita Nominee, Deb grew up in Pennsylvania with her nose in a book. Luckily she’d read enough romances to recognize a true modern hero she met a college Halloween party—even though he wore a tuxedo t-shirt instead of breeches and boots. They married, settled in North Carolina and produced two handsome, intelligent and genuinely amusing boys. Though she spends much of her time with her nose in her laptop, for the sake of her family she does occasionally abandon her inner world for the domestic adventure of laundry, dinner and carpool. Despite her sacrifice, none of the men in her family are yet willing to don breeches or tall boots. She’s working on it.

  Don’t Miss the Other Books in the Half Moon House Series:

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  The Harris List of Covent Garden Ladies, that wickedly witty annual register of the city's lightskirts, was once a London tradition. Now, as all of Europe celebrates the end of the long wars, the scheming Lord Marstoke has revived it--and transformed it into a weapon.

  A List no respectable lady wishes to be on . . .

  Miss Brynne Wilmott doesn't belong on the soon-to-be-published List of London's prostitutes, but she escaped the monstrous Marstoke once, with the inadvertent aide of Nathan Russell, the Duke of Aldmere, and now the marquess has revived the List as an act of revenge--and to destroy her future and those who helped her.

  The Request a certain Duke has no wish to hear . . .

  The Duke of Aldmere doesn't believe in meddling. Fate has proved that interfering in personal matters only leads to bigger trouble. He has no wish to involve himself in Brynne Wilmott's affairs, despite her spirited beauty and damned tempting mouth. But she's discovered that his brother is mixed up in this List business as well. Reluctantly, they agree to work together to prevent the disastrous publication.

  Their quest leads them through some of London's most dangerous haunts and it quickly becomes clear that Marstoke's plans are more twisted and treasonous than anyone has suspected. Yet the danger and intrigue are as nothing compared to the effect than Nathan and Brynne have on each other . . .

  Find out more about the Half Moon House series at www.DebMarlowe.com

  Copyright  2013 by Deb Marlowe

  An Unexpected Encounter

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r would-be suitor never shows, but an unexpected encounter with Lord Cotwell and his lonely ward might lead to altogether new prospects . . . and perhaps to love.

  She was leaving. It wasn’t good. But it was likely right.

  She took her hand away. “I’m starting now,” she whispered, leaning full up against him, firing his blood with the press of her long torso to his. “I know you can’t give me everything I want, but this may be it, the last chance I have to feel this way.”

  Plain words, but they seared his soul, ignited a hot pool of desire--and chilled him to the bone.

  “I’m asking,” she said. “Whatever you can give--I want to take it with me.”

  God, what she did to him. He’d been dead and dry inside for so long--now he felt bursting with life and need. Not new--but reborn. She’d reintroduced him to the entire gamut of emotion--interest, building desire, flaring passion, want. Fear too--because he was alive again--with all of his experience and wisdom intact.

  Find out more about the Half Moon House series at www.DebMarlowe.com

  Copyright  2013 by Deb Marlowe