Elisabeth had no taste for the gaiety around her. She smiled politely and contributed to the conversation when necessary but her mind was elsewhere, trying to get itself wrapped around the past four days. She’d climbed out of a window to see a comet and everything had changed. She’d seen the comet, she’d experienced profound pleasure, she’d found love in the arms of a man who’d hidden his identity from her until it was too late to reconsider. Then before she’d had a chance to make her own decisions that man had been taken from her. Her mother considered the whole debacle distasteful and was determined to pretend it had never happened. But Elisabeth could not forget. Nor did she want to.
She could put on the lovely claret velvet gown her mother had selected with its high neck and delicate lace and look like an innocent girl but she could not forget. She burnt for him during the day and dreamed of him at night. All the while, her family watched her with the intensity of a hawk circling its prey. There was no chance to escape, no way to contact Dashiell. She did worry for him. One of the footmen had come back with a black eye, suggesting that not all had gone peaceably inside once she’d left.
The more she thought about it, the less it mattered Dashiell was Heathridge’s heir. It didn’t change who he was: a man who made sandwiches for her, stayed up all night with her, who put his resources at her disposal. Those were thoughtful gestures and they had been genuine. He’d always been genuine. It had been one of the first things she’d noted about him.
A raised voice in the hallway caught her attention briefly before fading. A footman approached her mother with a card on a silver salver. Her mother took the card and frowned. ‘He will not be received. Tell him we are not at home,’ she said in tones deliberately loud enough to be overheard. She knew her power. Whoever was not received by Viscountess Graybourne would not be received by others who wished to have her favor.
‘Tell me yourself.’ The masculine voice filled the room, instantly recognizable above the din of feminine tones. All conversation died.
Dashiell! Elisabeth’s heart leapt. It had been too long since she’d seen his face. Today, he was clean-shaven and dressed to his station in expensive town clothes—a tightly fitted coat of blue superfine over a waistcoat of oyster paisley, fawn trousers and polished high boots. He was immaculate, handsome, undeniably wicked in his proper attire and he’d commandeered the attention of every woman in the room. In his left hand he carried a long tube. Elisabeth’s breath caught.
Her mother tossed the footman a meaningful look. He moved towards Dashiell with menacing intent but Dashiell did not hesitate. His right fist came up and landed squarely on the footman’s jaw, sending him staggering into a potted palm. ‘That’s for Burnham, my friend,’ Dashiell growled in tones that set the women around Elisabeth gasping in excitement.
Elisabeth rose to go to him but her mother stalled her with a hand at her arm. ‘Sit down, Elisabeth. Mr. Steen is beneath our notice.’
‘He’s not beneath mine,’ Elisabeth said staunchly. She refused to be seated, refused to give way on this even though it meant publicly defying her mother. Punching a footman wouldn’t be the only piece of gossip being chewed over dinner tables tonight.
Dashiell approached until he stood mere inches from her. ‘I brought you something.’
Dashiell held out the item he carried. ‘You left this. It belongs with you, in your home, not in hiding.’
It was her telescope, carefully packed into its leather travelling case. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘You’ve risked life and limb to bring this,’ Elisabeth whispered. ‘My father will be none too pleased to see you.’
‘I’ll risk more than that before I’m through.’ Dashiell tipped her face upwards, not caring that they had an audience. Women leaned forward, straining to hear every word.
‘I’m sure your father will throw me out momentarily, so let me say what I came to say. I want to marry you, Elisabeth. This has nothing to do with being Heathridge’s heir and the plans of our parents. It has to do with you and with me.
‘When I met you, I thought you were a thief. I thought you’d be my last adventure before I settled down and embraced my uncle’s expectations for me. I was right on both accounts. You have stolen my heart and you are my last adventure, all the adventure I’ll ever need. Elisabeth, my thief, would you do me the honour? I want to spend my life chasing comets with you.’ His voice was low and intimate, his words for her alone in spite of the crowd.
She should say no. This was impetuous, her logical mind argued. They’d only known each other a handful of days. What they’d shared had worked only because it had been time out of mind. They hadn’t had to contend with reality. But staring up into his blue eyes, logic wasn’t enough to defeat her heart.