An heiress and an astron.., p.1
An Heiress and An Astronomer: A Wholesome Regency Romance (Gentleman Scholars Book 3), page 1
An Heiress
and
An Astronomer
Wendy May Andrews
∞∞∞
Sparrow Ink
www.sparrowink.com
Copyright © 2024 Wendy May Andrews
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, transmitted, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN - 978-1-989634-89-9
www.wendymayandrews.com
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Wishing for the stars won’t solve the problems in the ballroom.
Miss Greta Billingsley was bored. Being ladylike and mature beyond her years kept most of the fortune hunters at bay but it discouraged the more appropriate gentlemen as well. Since she was independent and self-contained, she also hadn’t made female friends. Why couldn’t she have just stayed home and married the squire’s son? It didn’t matter that they didn’t love each other, Greta was certain she would be happy with children, a home to run, and a big enough open space to stare at the stars.
Pierce Darby has always been fascinated with stars, planets, and their constellations so it was only natural that he would try to invent a more accurate telescope. Since his maternal grandfather delighted in his studies and happily kept him in pocket money, he was a little less harried than the other scholars. But finding the treasure the other lads were on about would surely raise their respect for him. And then he would have all the knowledge he could ever wish for.
Will the stars align for these two opposites? Can Pierce help Greta find reasons for genuine joy beyond the conventional life she expects?
If you love the wit and regency of Bridgerton but the wholesomeness of The Hallmark Channel, read Wendy May Andrews’ latest Sweet Regency Romance Adventure.
Dedication
In An Heiress and An Astronomer, Greta takes life far too seriously while not understanding Pierce’s light-hearted joie de vivre. I hope you are finding reasons for joy wherever you fall on the spectrum of seriousness. This book is dedicated to everyone reaching for the stars
XO
Acknowledgements
Acknowledgment number one has to go to my truest companion, Mr. Andrews. Thank you for knowing and caring about my Gentlemen nearly as much as I do. My writer’s journey has been an adventurous ride. It was much improved by being on it with you. You’re the best partner a lady could ask for. Thanks for all that you do for me and my books.
Acknowledgment number two must go to my parents. Thank you for always supporting me in my endeavors. Thank you for starting me on my path to loving words by reading to me as a little kiddo.
To my beta readers – Alfred, Monique, Suzanne, and Christina – thank you so much for cheering for my scholars, finding the plot holes, and making great suggestions to make my stories better.
My gorgeous cover is thanks to the artistry of Andrew at Sparrow Ink. This one really hit it out of the park.
Thanks to Bev Kaufman and Julie Sherwood for the great edits. Any remaining mistakes are entirely the author’s fault.
Chapter One
"Well, good evening, Miss Billingsley.”
Bored and not paying attention as she ought to, and knowing full well her aunt would have her head if she were to realize, Greta tried very hard not to startle over the suddenness of the words spoken to her. It just wouldn’t do to be caught daydreaming at a High Society ball, she was sure.
Greta turned with what she hoped was a polite smile to acknowledge the greeting. Her politeness turned to surprise when she noted who was addressing her.
“Mrs. Northcott, good evening,” she said, dipping into a slight curtsey.
Mrs. Northcott was married to the Earl of Everleigh’s youngest son, but she was the daughter of a viscount and the sister of another very popular viscount. While she wasn’t titled herself, Mrs. Northcott was highly connected and was therefore much higher ton than mere Miss Billingsley.
Greta might not be popular or terribly experienced in societal behaviour, but she knew full well that Mrs. Northcott was usually the one to be approached, not the one doing the approaching. That insistent thought put her suddenly on an almost defensive stance. But she tried valiantly not to have it show on her face.
Holding her tongue when all it wanted to do was start chattering nervously was a challenge. She was certain the other woman must have a reason for speaking to her. So, she waited to see what the reason might be. Or if the woman would actually explain herself.
She wasn’t left waiting for long. The elegant woman smiled brilliantly as she nodded in acknowledgement of Greta’s show of respect.
“How have you been? I haven’t had a chance to speak with you in an age,” Mrs. Northcott said with an airy wave of her hand, not acknowledging that they had never actually had a true conversation before.
“I’ve been well, thank you for asking,” Greta answered carefully, nerves growing in the pit of her stomach. Even as the urge to point out the oddity fought against the restraint on her tongue she continued, “And you? Are you enjoying the Season?”
“We’ve only just arrived, I’m afraid. Things have been a trifle hectic with the scholars, don’t you know? And I was also under the weather,” she concluded, almost as an afterthought.
Greta almost allowed her chin to drop open in an ill-bred display of surprise but kept the hinge tightly controlled out of habit more than anything. Ought she to ask about the woman’s statements? Would it be less rude to do so or to not do so? It was a quandary to be sure.
“I’m sorry to hear things haven’t been as delightful as usual for you, Mrs. Northcott,” she finally managed to say in a tone that she knew sounded stiff, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. But really, was she expected to be filled with sympathy for the beautiful woman who seemed to have everything?
Greta Billingsley knew full well it was inappropriate, even hurtful, to make assumptions about another person’s life. She was nearly always on the receiving end of such assumptions so she shouldn’t be doing the same to someone else. And if the woman had been ill, she ought to be offering sympathy, not sarcastic assumptions.
But it was so easy to do the wrong thing. Especially for someone like her. Someone torn between the life of the gentry she was living but with the blood of shopkeepers running thickly through her veins pulling her in a different direction.
Not that she would ever admit where her interests lie. Not in such company, at any rate. Not since her father’s death had she even discussed such a topic.
To Greta’s surprise, despite her darting thoughts and her tight tone when speaking to the other woman, Mrs. Northcott’s trill of laughter sounded genuine and warm.
“You are quite right, my dear, they have not been as delightful as usual, but I am fully expectant of that changing.”
Suddenly a light dawned on Greta.
“I’ve heard you have a child now.” The words blurted out of her. Perhaps that was what she meant by having been under the weather considering no one ever spoke of pregnancy in front of an unwed woman.
It wasn’t inappropriate to mention the child once it was born, was it? It was in the papers for heaven’s sake. Heat stained her cheeks despite her conviction that there was nothing wrong with her statement.
“We do,” Mrs. Northcott replied promptly with a smile that bordered on a grin. “She is a delightful little bundle of life and has already cast her spell upon the entire household.”
“Your scholars, do you mean?” Greta asked, intrigued despite her usual boredom with most things pertaining to the nobility. She was particularly impressed with how delighted the woman was with her child despite it being a female.
“The scholars, the staff, my husband, even my gruff and terribly proper father-in-law is enamoured of her. I know I’m biased, but I think she’s especially special.” This less than eloquent statement was punctuated with another trill of laughter. “I have done the terribly unfashionable thing of bringing my infant to Town with me. Roderick needed to come up for some important meetings and neither of us wanted to be parted from the other or the little one. So here we are. But I shouldn’t be boring you with this. Tell me of your adventures thus far this Season.”
Greta held back her despondent sigh with practiced skill. She would have enjoyed hearing more about the baby. Children had always fascinated her. She used to think it was because she had no siblings but perhaps it was merely the natural impulse of a female.
That was the one reason she had agreed to accompany her aunt to Town. That and her desire to please her only living relative. She longed for a family of her own, besides the aunt she had only just met. But Mrs. Northcott was quite correct. It was hardly the usual topic for conversation at a ball.
Before she could think of an appropriate response to the other woman’s demand to know how her Season was going, Mrs. Northcott interrupted once more.
“I do hope I
“There isn’t one, so all is well,” Greta answered tightly, willing her face not to flame with her embarrassment over having to admit to being a wallflower.
“How perfectly odd,” Mrs. Northcott returned. “Shall I introduce you, then?”
“My aunt has done so.” Greta’s voice grew thinner with her displeasure over discussing her failure. The other woman must have realized her feelings.
“How delightful that I can keep you to myself a little longer, in that case,” she said with almost a giggle, the sound putting Greta’s teeth near the edge as she tried not to display her displeasure further. “Shall we stroll?” Mrs. Northcott asked.
There was really nothing she could answer other than, ‘of course.’ One didn’t deny such a simple request from a Northcott, not if they didn’t wish to become an even greater pariah amongst the ton than they already were.
“Have you been to any of my sister-in-law’s balls?” Mrs. Northcott asked. Before Greta could answer, the woman elaborated on her question. “By that I mean my brother’s wife, not my brothers-in-laws’ wives. Although, now that I say that, I think Catherine might have hosted something when they came to Town, but I cannot rightly recall. But I do know that Belle loves to entertain, so surely you have been there.”
“Yes, the viscountess was kind enough to invite us. It was a beautiful evening.”
“Of course,” the other woman said with a nod of approval but a bit of a sigh as well. “I wish I could have been there. I do hope she’ll plan another while we’re here. But it is possible she won’t be able to.”
The flush that pinkened the woman’s cheeks made Greta wonder if the viscountess might be increasing as well. Jealousy reared its head within her, but she managed to swallow down the uncharitable reaction.
Greta very deliberately thought a dirty word and it did the work of comforting and distracting her even as she said out loud something perfectly appropriate.
“How lovely.” It was apropos of nothing but seemed to be the right thing as Mrs. Northcott visibly relaxed before her.
Greta fretted over what to say to the woman before her even as she worried about her own unwed state. The problem with her wasn’t so much that she was too old. She was far from being an ape-leader. She wasn’t even on the shelf. There was plenty of time for her to find her match.
If anyone would have her.
The trouble was, Greta hadn’t taken.
Mortification swept through her anew as she stared at the matron before her. Dampness sprang upon her palms and she itched to rub them on her skirts.
If her parents were there to witness her failure, Greta was certain they would know how to fix the matter. At least after they had stopped blaming one another.
It was the only reason Greta was relieved her parents were no longer living.
Her mother, the lovely Lady Evelina, would have probably had the solution up her sleeve, were she there. It was likely Greta would have had a successful debut were her mother by her side. Or perhaps not. How was she to know?
Since her beautiful mother would have drawn so much attention to herself, it was entirely possible Greta would be just as unsuccessful if she were there. But Father would have calculated a reason. Or thrown money at the problem.
He would have hired experts in the matter to get to the bottom of it. The thought amused Greta. She could hire experts herself except she wasn’t certain that was something that existed.
Ought she to ask Mrs. Northcott?
One could argue that fine lady was said expert. But how mortifying to ask her. And it wasn’t as though Greta could hire her. Nor were they friends.
Rumour had it Mr. Northcott had gone into trade, though, so perhaps it was possible.
Greta bit her lip. Her father would say she ought to speak, while her mother would die of mortification. What did Greta want to do?
“I wondered if I might be of assistance to you,” Mrs. Northcott said in a low tone, as though she had overheard Greta’s thoughts.
Surely Greta hadn’t spoken aloud even as they strolled through the milling crowds surrounding the dance floor.
“I beg your pardon,” was all she could say, biding for time as she tried to comprehend what the woman was saying or asking.
“I would like for us to be friends,” Mrs. Northcott elaborated, but still didn’t make any sense to Greta, despite her comprehending the woman’s words. “Friends assist one another.”
“Are you in need of assistance?” Greta asked with a frown.
“Not right at the moment, but one can never be too sure of such things, can one?”
The wide smile that accompanied the unanswerable statement confused Greta further and she held her silence rather than add to the oddity.
“Excellent,” Mrs. Northcott said as though Greta had agreed. “Shall I call upon you tomorrow? Or could we go driving in the Park? Have you committed yourself to anything tomorrow that would interfere?”
“I don’t believe so,” she answered in a faint voice, feeling as though she were being managed by an expert.
“Very well, I will send a footman with a note to confirm before I turn up at your door, but expect me in the later afternoon. I do hope you have a lovely evening. I look forward to enjoying a comfortable coze on the morrow.”
Without waiting for any sort of reply from Greta, the young matron bustled away leaving her “friend” blinking in her wake.
How perfectly strange.
Greta knew she ought to have been more assertive in the interaction, but it had been nearly impossible to take control of the situation. Mrs. Northcott hadn’t left her much opportunity to do so, for one thing.
For another, what could she have done that would have been within the realms of acceptable societal behaviour? And really, there was nothing untoward about the interaction. She shouldn’t be left feeling nonplussed. In fact, she ought to be delighted.
To be sure, her aunt was certain to be in alt over the matter.
Thoughts of her aunt caused a sigh to lodge itself in her throat, threatening to choke her. Lady Gertrude Blackstock. Greta knew she ought to love the woman and should be grateful that she had taken an interest in her.
But somehow it was nearly impossible to do so, much to Greta’s shame.
As the only living relative Greta was acquainted with, she wanted to love Lady Gertrude and was determined to please the woman even though they were so vastly different in opinions and temperament.
Aunt Gertrude had shown up on her doorstep with barely a by your leave but with her baggage following close behind her, assuring Greta that it was the utmost sacrifice on her part to leave her husband behind in order to undertake Greta’s debut.
Greta had yet to note any actual regret on her aunt’s part at having abandoned her husband, though.
The older woman had tried to take over Greta’s life. Lady Gertrude commanded nearly everything. She had insisted that they both needed entirely new wardrobes of gowns and all the nonsense that went along with properly outfitting ladies of the ton.
Of course, since it was Greta’s debut, her aunt had assured her that it was Greta’s duty to foot all the bills. A part of her wanted to object, but what did it really matter? She had more money than she would ever need.
Which was why the only men interested in her weren’t gentlemen at all despite her best efforts to downplay the actual extent of her wealth.
She had been targeted by every fortune hunter within the realm, or so it had seemed when she’d first made her debut. Blessedly, her aunt’s scowls and Greta’s very ladylike behaviour had managed to discourage the worst of the cads, but unfortunately the more appropriate gentlemen had been turned away as well.
So here she found herself, a wallflower during her second Season.
Aunt Gertrude clucked about it, but Greta wasn’t certain if the older woman was really all that interested in marrying off her niece. It would put an end to Lady Gertrude’s own time in Town when they achieved their supposed end.
But whether Lady Gertrude wanted to end her chaperone duty or not, Greta wished it to be over. The older woman had insisted Greta couldn’t wed with the local squire’s son, which was the only truly viable option for her at home in Balcombe.
