Discovering the Baron (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 3) Read online

  “Their environment being slightly more academic?” Jemima asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Nicholas nodded. “For the most part.” His gaze was roving over the room, and suddenly something seemed to catch his eye. “Ah, here is one such gentleman now. Well, actually the only true gentleman of the bunch, being a baron and all. Isn’t that right, Celeste?”

  He winked at her and her face immediately heated. She inwardly cursed. Now Jemima, at the very least, would know something was amiss.

  “Come, Celeste, let us greet our guests — and your employer.” He took her by the arm and practically dragged her across the room, as the stares of her friends burned into her back. Nicholas’ steps slowed for a moment as they drew closer. Celeste thought he was allowing Oliver time to speak to their parents, but then he turned away from them toward the room, and Celeste realized what had drawn her brother’s attention.

  “Who is that?” he said, his words in her ear just above a whisper.

  “Lady Venetia,” she responded, unable to keep the despair from her words. “Lord Essex’s intended.” She, unfortunately, looked particularly fetching tonight. Her dark hair was drawn away from her head, curled and pinned in the latest style high above, with ringlets cascading around her forehead. Her sultry eyes spanned the room as though assessing all who were within, while she kept one arm possessively on Oliver. She wore a dress of crimson that highlighted her ample bosom and generous hips, giving Celeste the impulse to cross her arms over her own nearly flat chest.

  “His intended, you say?” Nicholas said, cutting through her thoughts. “Well, that’s rather bad luck.”

  She looked over at her brother, uneasy about the way he was assessing Lady Venetia.

  “Nicholas,” she warned through the side of her mouth, “do not think of it.”

  “What?” he said, his face the picture of innocence. “I think we should go greet our guests, that is all.”

  “You will not have any designs on Lady Venetia,” she said fiercely. “She belongs to another.”

  “What does it matter to you?” he asked her, and then his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Or do you have thoughts of your own regarding your new employer? Is this why you are so hesitant to spy on him?”

  “Nicholas!” she hissed as they were coming far too close for her liking. Oliver was already looking at her with some question in his eyes.

  “Lord Essex,” she said with a slight curtsy as she ignored her brother. “And Lady Venetia,” she added belatedly. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you,” Lady Venetia said, though curiously she had hardly a care for Celeste. Instead her eyes were focused on Nicholas, roving up and down his frame. “And you are…”

  “My apologies,” Oliver said. “Lady Venetia, this is Mr. Keswick. He is a colleague of mine at the Astronomical Society. Of course, you have met his sister, Miss Keswick.”

  “Of course,” she murmured as she held her hand out to Nicholas, who bent over it, his eyes never leaving hers. “Very pleased to meet you.” She finally flicked her gaze over to Celeste. “Brother and sister are both rather learned, then?”

  “You could say that,” Celeste said carefully.

  “Well, when Oliver told me about tonight’s festivities, I could hardly say no. It sounded like a rather festive occasion, and I am never one to miss such an event. It was rather last minute, of course, but that can be forgiven.”

  It was only then that Celeste noticed another figure behind Oliver. He followed her eyes to look behind him, stepping back to allow the newcomer to join them.

  “My sister,” he said. “Lady Alice.”

  The young woman smiled widely, seeming particularly interested in Celeste.

  “Lovely to meet you again. I was quite intrigued to discover that you were the new assistant I have heard so much about.”

  Had she? Celeste wondered just what Oliver had to say about her.

  “I hope you have heard that I am of help,” she said, willing the flush not to rise.

  “Of course,” Lady Alice said with a charming smile, which Celeste returned, sensing a kindred spirit. “Next time you are in residence, do visit me, will you?”

  “I shall look forward to it,” Celeste said.

  Their conversation was cut short by the first sounds of the orchestra, and when Celeste looked around, she noted that the room was beginning to fill.

  “Would you care to dance?” Celeste whipped her head back around, hope filling her chest as she prepared to say yes to Oliver’s request, until she realized that he was asking Lady Venetia. His betrothed, however, didn’t seem to have heard him, for she was still looking at Nicholas. “Venetia?” Oliver prodded.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” she said, taking his arm.

  “Save one for me, will you?” Nicholas said cheekily as they walked away, and she nodded, her eyes assessing.

  “I will.”

  Alice eyed the two of them with some interest before she offered her regards and continued on her way, leaving the brother and sister alone once more.

  “Well, well,” Nicholas said, turning to Celeste. “It seems that you and I might have more business here than simply accessing the knowledge of Lord Essex.”

  “What are you on about?” Celeste asked, her hands on her hips as she peered at him

  “Why, Lord Essex and Lady Venetia,” he said. “It seems that we might have some mutual interest in finding our way between the two of them.”

  “You’re mad, Nicholas,” she muttered, before attempting to take her leave to return to her friends. But he placed a hand on her arm and drew her back. His green eyes, so like hers, were intent upon her.

  “Lady Venetia… she is something, Celeste. If you were to, say, occupy the baron, perhaps I might find myself some time with her.”

  She leaned into him, anger and annoyance seeping through her body. “I will not help you cuckold Lord Essex! Just as I will not help you with any other nefarious schemes you have planned.”

  He laughed at that, only causing her ire to grow. “Oh, Celeste, you make it sound as if I am some villain. I see the interest in your eyes, the flush on your cheeks when you look at the baron. Don’t tell me you aren’t enjoying your time with him.”

  “I’m not,” she insisted, but then at his look, slightly amended her words. “Well, perhaps I am a bit. But not for the reasons you are implying. He is an intelligent man who is as passionate about his work as I am. Unlike some others,” she said with a pointed look at him, suggesting that perhaps he should work harder at his hobbies.

  “You and I are different people,” he said with a shrug. “You like the work. I like the results of the work. I still have as much interest as you. Now, let me find one of my friends to dance with you.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “I must. Mother said so.”

  She eyed him. “Since when have you done anything Mother has told you to?”

  “Since yesterday, when I went into work with Father,” he said, triumphant upon his belief that he had won the argument.

  “I’m leaving,” she said, but before she could run away and hide from him, she heard him exclaim, “Alex, old chap! Dance with my sister, will you?”

  She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, wishing she could run away, but it was too late. Nicholas’ friend, Alexander Hardwick, was already there, his arm outstretched. He looked down at her with that pitying gaze one directs at a woman when he knows that she cannot find a dance partner for herself. Wonderful. Just what Celeste was looking for. She sighed, managed a smile, and took his arm as she prepared for the humiliation that occurred every time she took to the dance floor.

  The dance had been as painful as she had imagined. Celeste hated to dance. Really and truly hated it. She was awkward, ungraceful, and despite the fact she could calculate numbers in her head without any trouble, she couldn’t seem to be able to properly count the one-two-three-four necessary for the quadrille.

  Fortunately, she managed to hide for most of the evening
with her friends, although Rebecca and Freddie were stolen away by their husbands now and again. Thank goodness Jemima was still unattached. As she gazed at Freddie and her husband, Lord Dorrington, deep in conversation with one another, an odd ache filled her chest as she wondered if she’d ever find a love like that — a love in which they cared so much for one another they would literally stop at nothing to save the other person from every distress and ailment that awaited them.

  She was pulled from her reverie, however, when she caught a glimpse of her brother crossing the room, his stride purposeful. She looked over, dismay filling her as she realized he was on his way to Lady Venetia. Damn it, Nicholas, she thought, standing to try to intercept him, but just then she saw her mother approaching, one of their cousins in tow. No.

  Celeste decided that a change in course was necessary, and turned so quickly that she stumbled into someone, nearly falling over backwards off of his hard chest.

  “Easy,” he murmured, reaching out a hand to steady her, and her breath caught when she tilted her head back to take in Oliver’s visage.

  “Oliver,” she said, her breath coming out on a whoosh. “My apologies, I was—”

  “Looking for a dance partner?” he asked, holding out a hand, to which she shook her head.

  “No, I really shouldn’t,” she said. “You don’t want to dance with me. I am horrific. I shall only blacken your toes, and—”

  “Nonsense,” he said, taking her hand firmly in his. “Now come.”

  Did she really have any choice?

  10

  The truth of it was that Oliver knew her assessment was correct, for he had watched her with the handsome gentlemen throughout the entirety of the first set. Celeste was far from the most graceful woman he had ever seen — that right went to Venetia — and his heart had gone out to her. What surprised him was the need that surged within him to cross the room and take her in his arms himself, rescuing her from the chap who was doing nothing to assist her in her missteps.

  But with Venetia on his arm, and his responsibility to look after his sister and ensure all was well with his mother, it was some time before he had been able to search Celeste out.

  His betrothed was now otherwise occupied with Keswick himself, but he found he didn’t entirely care, despite the predatory look in the man’s eyes and his fiancée’s own apparent interest.

  He placed his hand around Celeste’s waist, taking her other hand in his, despairing of the fact both were gloved this evening. Her white dress with its gold embroidery gave her the look of a Greek goddess. All that she required was the burnished red of her hair cascading down around her shoulders instead of up atop her head.

  “You look lovely this evening,” he said, voicing his thoughts aloud, although lovely hardly seemed strong enough to describe her.

  “Thank you,” she said, nodding her head, although he could tell that she was attempting to count. “You as well.”

  He chuckled at that, which finally caught her attention. Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Well, I did, but not in that way. You do look well. But not lovely. Well, not not lovely.” She finally shut her lips tight together and gave her head the slightest of shakes, although he had the feeling that the gesture was for herself and not for him.

  He lifted his hand from her waist for a moment in order to tilt her chin up to look at him once more. He hadn’t realized until now just how long her lashes were. They were as light as her hair, and they intrigued him up close, as did the rest of her face.

  “Thank you,” he said simply, and her eyes widened as she nodded before returning her gaze to his chest. When she sighed, he could nearly feel her entire body move against him.

  “I see your brother is escorting Venetia in a dance. This would be their second dance, I believe,” he mused, considering the fact. Celeste stiffened in his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Nicholas has a penchant for beautiful things, which of course, would describe Lady Venetia. My apologies to both you and to her.”

  “If one had to apologize for all of his or her sibling’s missteps, then my sister would be doing plenty of it,” he said with a chuckle, “of which I can assure you she has never concerned herself with. Do not fear, Celeste. I can handle your brother.”

  She nodded, though as she did, she stepped on one of his toes. Her kid slipper, however, did little damage to his foot through his boot.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, and then paused. “And I’m sorry for apologizing once more. Oh, drat.”

  He laughed then, full and loud, enough to turn the heads of those who were near them.

  “You are counting too much,” he said, and she looked up at him with bemusement.

  “Isn’t that how one gets through the dance — by counting?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said with a nod. “But sometimes you have to feel it as well. Listen to the music. Let it guide you, move you through the dance. I’ll help you.”

  Oliver placed slight pressure upon her waist and her hand as he led her through the waltz. He saw her finally begin to lose some of her tension as she relaxed into his hold, allowing him to lead her. A strange sense of pride filled him — pride that was certainly misplaced.

  When the music began its slow decrescendo to the end of the waltz, sorrow filled him at the thought of releasing her, though he could hardly stand here in the middle of the ballroom all night. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments as though to commit this feeling of her in his arms to memory, before he finally released her and stepped back, forcing a smile onto his face despite the brief melancholy that consumed him. At the very least, he had an excuse to continue to see her, though he could hardly have one in which to hold her.

  “Thank you for the dance, Celeste.”

  “Thank you, Oliver,” she said in the barest of whispers as she curtsied, turned, and quickly walked away.

  He watched her go, realizing as he did that he should likely find Venetia. Or his sister, or mother — the three women who he was responsible for. But he found that there was only one he actually cared about at the moment.

  Celeste.

  Celeste’s heart pounded hard after her dance with Oliver, and it was not because of the exertion. How good it had felt to be in his arms, to move with him, to allow him to guide her through the steps. For once she hadn’t felt like a complete and utter dolt, but nearly graceful, if that could ever be accomplished.

  She told herself not to turn around and look at him as she walked away, for that would be opening up her feelings to any and all who had watched them together, as she didn’t think she would be able to conceal her admiration.

  She desperately needed to talk to Jemima, but when she returned to the place she had last seen her friend, she was nowhere to be found. Celeste continued on, meandering through the ballroom, greeting her parents’ guests as she went. This night could be over now, and she would be more than happy. She had had the opportunity to dance with Oliver, and nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

  Finding herself wandering aimlessly and feeling as though everyone was watching her, although in truth she knew most people could care less about her, Celeste finally found herself back where she had started. She began to look for someone she could talk to so as to not look the fool, but then decided that rather than make pleasantries with someone she had no desire to actually speak with, she would far rather take a few moments alone.

  She slipped between the guests and dancers, darting for the back doors, where she would find the garden and her telescope. Some solace, just for a moment. Then, she promised herself, she would return and dance as her mother wished her to.

  She opened the door, stepping out into the night, allowing the darkness to envelop her. As she walked to the telescope, however, she saw that a figure was already hunched over it.

  It could be anyone, she told herself as she tried to slow her racing heart. Her brother had invited all manner of astronomically i
nterested people.

  But as he slowly stood, she knew before he turned that it was him.

  Oliver.

  Would he think that she was following him? Should she turn around and leave him be, lest he suspect her of having other motives for being out here with him?

  Her hesitation as she stood in the doorway took the decision from her, however, as he captured her gaze with his.

  “Celeste,” he greeted her, and she wasn’t sure if it was true or if it was just her own hopefulness that he looked pleased to see her. “I would say fancy meeting you out here, but somehow I should have known that you would arrive at some point.”

  She took a step farther into the gardens, trepidation filling her, and yet she also couldn’t bring herself to leave.

  “If I am being honest, I am escaping,” she said bashfully. “I found I needed a moment alone, and so I came to the place where I usually find some solace.”

  She took a breath to slow her racing heart as she rounded him to the telescope. “Is there anything worth looking at tonight?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he said with a shrug, and her skin tingled from his nearness when he didn’t step back. “At least not so far. The night is clear, however, so one never knows what could appear.”

  “Looking to discover a new comet?” she asked, turning her head and arching an eyebrow.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “though I have far greater ideas in mind.”

  She nodded, stepping back and rubbing her hands around her opposite arms to ward off the chill of the night air.

  “Are you cold?” he asked. “Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket. “Take this.”

  He held it out to her, but she shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she said, not wanting to cross that line of intimacy.

  “I insist. It’s cold out here,” he said, stepping behind her and placing the jacket around her. When he tucked it over her shoulders, she was overcome by his scent enveloping her, a musky spice. She shivered, though fortunately he mistook it for cold.