Carousel of Hearts (7 page)

It took a moment for the meaning of the words to penetrate Antonia’s excitement. Then she exclaimed, “The last? Surely you’re not going to leave me?”

“As a married woman, you don’t need a companion,” Judith pointed out. “And I can’t imagine that a newly married couple needs a third person constantly underfoot.”

Antonia made a quick, impatient movement of her hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. You did not join the household for reasons of propriety, but friendship. Acquiring a husband does not mean that one needs no other friends.”

Judith wavered for a moment. It was true that if she stayed with Antonia there would still be friendship, and she would make herself useful in return for a lifetime of comfort and security.

Then Judith thought of Simon bending adoringly over Antonia, and her resolve to leave firmed again. She wished them every joy in the world, but their felicity would underline her own solitary state. 

She would be a fool to subject herself to that. “It won’t do, Antonia. I’ve loved every minute in your household, but I have always wanted to travel, and with the ridiculously high salary you have been paying me, I can now afford to do so. Perhaps I’ll go to America. I’ve always wanted to see the New World, perhaps even live there permanently.”

Antonia suppressed her protest, knowing she had no right to do so. “But . . . you will write? America is so far away.”

“Of course I’ll write. Even if I go, I probably won’t stay there.” Judith gave her a Antonia a hug. “I may be too English to live in another land.”

Antonia sighed as she returned the hug. In a vague way she had thought of marriage as the life she already had, with the delicious addition of a handsome husband.  But it couldn’t be that simple.

“I’d best go down and talk about settlements with Adam and Simon,” she said ruefully. “It has just been brought home to me that there is a great deal more to marriage than falling in love.”

* * * *

Antonia, her cousin, and her betrothed settled in the library with a large pot of tea and a plate of cakes to fortify them for a lengthy discussion of jointures, inheritance rights of children yet unborn, reversion in the case of death without issue, and all the rest of the questions that must be decided. The business aspects of marriage were complex. 

Two cups of tea later, as Antonia regarded her future husband’s beautiful, startled face, she realized that emotions were even more complicated than financial issues.

“Your income is how much?” Simon asked incredulously.

“In the neighborhood of twenty thousand pounds a year,” Antonia repeated. “More in a good year.”

“I assumed that your father left you comfortably well-off, but it never occurred to me your fortune is so much greater than my own. Even when the mortgages are paid off, the difference will still be substantial.” Lord Launceston shook his head in bemusement. “Had I know the extent of your inheritance, I would never have had the effrontery to offer for you.”

“Then I’m very glad you didn’t know.” Antonia smiled mischievously. “Now your friends will think you vastly clever for capturing an heiress.”

Simon was unamused. “I never fancied myself in the role of fortune hunter,” he said stiffly.

Antonia looked at him uncertainly, not knowing what to say. A more venal man would have openly delighted in her wealth, but honorable sorts like Simon disliked the appearance of avarice. She wouldn’t have loved him if he were not honorable—but at the moment, his scruples were a problem.

Adam looked up from the notes he had been taking. Because the newly betrothed couple trusted his honesty and his desire to see them both well-served by the settlement, he was acting as mediator in the negotiations. “No one who’s ever seen you absently bestow a guinea on a potboy will think you overinterested in a fortune,” he said soothingly. “Besides, Tony’s father left her fortune tied up so thoroughly that you couldn’t run mad with it even if you wished to.”

“That’s true,” Antonia agreed, remembering some of the details of her father’s will. She shot a guilty look at her betrothed. “One of the conditions is that my husband must take the Thornton name. My father didn’t want to see his own line die out when the title went to my cousin.”

Men of fortune placed great value on continuation of their names.  It was not uncommon for wills to require that an indirect heir or the husband of an heiress take on the name of their benefactor.  Lord Launceston was not an egotistical man, but as the possessor of a proud old name of his own, it was not to be expected that he would receive the news with enthusiasm.

“Was the earl expecting you to marry a fortune hunter who would be eager to comply?” he asked with a trace of uncharacteristic sarcasm.

“Women are always expected to abandon their family names,” Antonia pointed out with some asperity. “I believe England is the only country in Europe where a woman’s family name is routinely lost on marriage. Is that fair?”

“It probably isn’t fair,” Simon admitted, “but it is the custom.” He paused to consider, his brow wrinkled. “Though I never thought of myself as overconcerned with tradition, I find that I am reluctant to change my family name.’’ He appealed to Adam as a fellow male. “Surely you can understand that.”

“Not having an honorable old name myself limits my ability to empathize,” Adam said dryly. “However, if I recall correctly, the will permits the joining of both names rather than requiring Tony’s husband to abandon his own name completely.”

“Thornton-Launceston will be a mouthful, but I daresay I’ll become accustomed quickly.” Simon’s glance softened as it fell on his betrothed. “It’s a small price to pay.”

Relieved, Antonia smiled back, basking in the warmth of his vividly blue eyes. When two people loved each other, surely all problems could be solved as easily as the ones just surmounted.

Chapter Four

One would have thought that a newly betrothed couple would find an evening of stargazing a highly romantic interlude. One would have been wrong.

The night was just cool enough that a warm masculine arm would have been welcome, Antonia thought regretfully, but her beloved had been fiddling with his miniature telescope ever since they came outside.

They had been betrothed for three whole days now. She suppressed a yawn. At this season the sky didn’t darken until nearly ten, and it was nearing midnight now. She wouldn’t have minded if there had been enough light to admire Simon, but he was only one more shadow in a moonless night.

“There!” His voice was triumphant. “The telescope is now lined up correctly. Take a look through the tube, but be careful not to touch it or it will be knocked out of alignment.”

Obediently Antonia stepped to the tripod that held the tube, which was less than a foot long and perhaps two inches in diameter. As her eye adjusted to the small eyepiece, she gasped in awe. “It’s beautiful!”

Hanging bright against the night was a white-gold sphere with sharp-edged rings above its equator, a vision as improbable as it was lovely. “I’ve heard of the rings of Saturn, but I never expected such majesty.”

In her excitement, she straightened up too quickly, brushing one leg of the tripod and knocking the instrument away from its target. Guiltily she jumped back. “Oh, Lord, Simon, I’m sorry. After all your careful work.”

“No matter.” His slow voice was unperturbed. “Tonight wasn’t for serious observing. I’ve seen Saturn before. I just wanted you to see it too, because it’s the loveliest sight in the heavens.” He seated himself on a bench behind the telescope, taking the opportunity to put an arm around Antonia when she joined him.

She cuddled against him happily. “It’s amazing that such a small instrument can provide such sights.”

“It’s a duplicate of Sir Isaac Newton’s first reflecting telescope. He presented the original to the Royal Society.” Simon used his free hand to pat the small instrument affectionately. “I’ve carried this one all over the world. It only magnifies fifty times, but it has been invaluable when there was no observatory available.” He chuckled. “Unfortunately, there is some kind of unwritten law that having a small telescope merely whets one’s appetite for a larger one.”

“Shall I get you a larger one for a wedding gift?” Antonia had been trying to think of a truly special present for her future husband.

“Definitely not. The really good ones are wildly expensive.” He pulled her closer. “I’ll get one someday. In the meantime, there are other telescopes available. The Greenwich Observatory for one. Herschel himself said he would let me use his if I visited him at Slough, though that is not a privilege one would wish to abuse.”

“Herschel?”

Antonia could feel Simon’s quizzical glance even in the dark. “You’ve never heard of the Astronomer Royal? William Herschel is near seventy now, but still active and possibly the finest astronomer of our age. He’s the first man since the days of the ancients to discover a new planet. Some astronomers call it Herschel in his honor, though the classicists who prefer the name ‘Uranus’ seem to be carrying the day.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very knowledgeable about science and mathematics,” Antonia apologized, making a mental note to inquire about getting him a telescope. She might not know much about the subjects that interested him, but she could use her fortune to help advance his work.

“And I am not very knowledgeable about politics, farming, or anything else practical.” Simon’s soft chuckle was intimate in the dark. He caressed her cheek with a lingering touch, then lifted her chin. “But, between us, we are very well-informed.”

Before his lips met hers, he whispered the seductive promise, “When the moon is full, I’ll show you the famous craters. That’s another splendid sight.”

Antonia preferred to leave contemplation of craters for a later moment. Kissing was a much better way to use a dark night.

But as she slid her arms around her betrothed, she wondered how often her husband would prefer to spend the night with a telescope rather than with her.

* * * *

Antonia turned slowly in front of the mirror, studying the drape of the sari. It had taken time to fold, wind, and tuck the garment, but now the shimmering silk clung to her shapely figure in a convincing fashion. The gold-embroidered end was drawn upward over her left shoulder, then fell gracefully down her back. Her other shoulder was bare.  She felt daring and exotic, though the sari was no more revealing than an English ball gown. “Do you think this is correct, Judith?”

“I won’t swear that you are wearing it properly, but you look magnificent,” her friend said with a smile. “Derbyshire will talk of nothing else for the rest of the summer.”

“Good!” Like any woman in love, Antonia was eager for her man to admire her. Or, to be precise, she wanted him to be madly, passionately adoring.

After a last touch to the curls of apricot hair that were permitted to escape her chignon, she accompanied Judith downstairs. She and her guests were invited to dinner and informal dancing at a neighboring estate. It was Antonia’s first public appearance with her betrothed, and she was eager to show him off.

Both men were waiting in the drawing room, and Simon’s intensely blue eyes showed a very satisfactory amount of adoring passion at the sight of her. “You look like a goddess,” he said softly after he had kissed her hand.

For a moment she basked in his patent admiration, feeling warm and wanted. She had waited a lifetime for this. Antonia’s gaze lingered on Simon’s elegant height. He looked utterly, heart-stoppingly handsome in his black evening clothes.  She felt quite a bit of passionate adoration herself.

Belatedly recalling that they were not alone, she released Simon’s hand and turned to her cousin. Adam had been complimenting Judith, who was very fine in a white muslin gown embroidered with bands of silver thread.

“Do I look like an Indian lady?” Antonia asked. “Judith and I spent quite some time deciphering and practicing the sari instructions.”

Regrettably, Adam was less impressionable than his friend. After his gray-green eyes had scanned her from head to gold-slippered feet, he delivered his judgment in a matter-of-fact voice. “You do not look in the least Indian, not with your coloring. I expect you are more interested in being told how beautiful you are than in how authentic the sari is.”

Unable to suppress a smile, Antonia considered his words. “Quite right. Given a choice, I prefer a compliment to almost anything else.”

Adam laughed. “Very well. You look stunning, as well you know.” A wicked glint showed in his eyes. “Are you worried about whether the sari will stay up if you do any dancing?”

“It has occurred to me that the potential for disaster exists,” she admitted, “so I have a few discreet pins in places that don’t show. I didn’t trust all the tucks to stay tucked.”

She gave Simon a mischievous glance. “As I recall. Sir Isaac Newton was quite specific on the unfortunate effects of gravitation on an improperly tucked sari.”

They all laughed, and proceeded out to the carriage for the ride to Ansley Place, the seat of Sir Ralph Edgeton and his family. Antonia and Judith were frequent visitors to the house, but their escorts aroused a flurry of excited interest.

Inevitably the other females present became wide-eyed and fluttery at the sight of Lord Launceston. In response, Simon withdrew into the cool, polite detachment that Antonia had not seen since his arrival at Thornleigh. By this time, she recognized his remoteness as a mask for his unexpected shyness.

Simon and Adam were an interesting study in contrasts, like classical statues of Contemplation and Action, or perhaps Thinker and Builder. Both were well-dressed and close to the same age, but the similarities ended there. Simon was taller, dark-haired, lighter in both build and voice, and wore an air of quiet containment.

While Adam didn’t have Simon’s breathtaking good looks —no one did—her cousin had a powerful, dynamic presence that drew the eye. Interestingly, Adam attracted almost as much attention as Lord Launceston, and he was a good deal more at ease with it as he moved around the room, greeting old acquaintances and making new ones.