Page 47 of The Luckiest Lady in London

The way Mrs. Pratt explained it, though not in exactly so many words, was that the men of the line had more often than not been pragmatic in marriage, and preferred to choose wives with great fortunes over those with beautiful eyes.

“But you can see, my lady, that was not the case with his lordship’s father,” said Mrs. Pratt, stopping before the late marchioness’s portrait.

Louisa could see that indeed. Portraits, in her opinion, rarely did great beauties justice. Even so, one could see that her late mother-in-law must have been quite stunning. “My goodness. Did you ever see her in person, Mrs. Pratt?”

“No, ma’am. I came to Huntington in 1880 as an underhousekeeper, several years after her ladyship had passed away.”

Louisa was surprised—for some reason she thought Mrs. Pratt had spent most of her life in the family’s employ. Was not such more or less the case at the great houses, that the upper servants, with the sometime exception of the French cook, rose up the ranks?

“His lordship asked that I show you the library last, ma’am,” said Mrs. Pratt.

Because he knows it would be my favorite?

But that was not the reason. She had been wondering where exactly was the conservatory, the fabled location of her new telescope. As it turned out, the conservatory was accessed via the library.

And there, the wedding present for which her entire family had begged—very prettily, no doubt. It was worth any amount of begging, standing serenely at a corner of the conservatory and gleaming with perfect craftsmanship.

“This particular panel can be swiveled open,” said Mrs. Pratt, pointing at the sheet of glass directly before the telescope.

Louisa walked around the telescope, agog at its beauty and, at the same time, confused as to why he had chosen to have it placed in the conservatory. The telescope had an equatorial mount, which allowed the instrument to remain fixed on any celestial object that had a diurnal motion, by driving one axis at a constant speed. That lovely feature would be quite wasted at this particular location, given that once the telescope had turned a few degrees, it would be looking at the fronds of a palm tree.

Next to the telescope was a small bench. On the bench was an envelope marked, To Lady Wrenworth. She picked it up and turned it around—it had been sealed with her husband’s signet ring. Inside, a piece of stationery that bore the same crest.

I hope you like what you see. W.

He certainly possessed much prettier penmanship than hers. And more cryptic intentions. What could she see from here?

She looked at the note again. It was dated three days ago. So he had been here, personally supervising the setup of the telescope, knowing full well it would be completely underutilized.

And the angle the telescope had been set at was also too low. What could she see, so close to the horizon, except perhaps Venus and a rising moon?

She removed the covers from the eyepiece and the lens and looked—and gasped.

The telescope pointed straight at the Roman folly. At first she thought there were two people on the belvedere, but they were only dress dummies, one covered in a large swath of pink fabric, the other in something that resembled a man’s evening jacket—the way she and Lord Wrenworth had been dressed when they first discussed being naked and up to no good upon that particular belvedere.

She barely restrained herself from laughing aloud. The man’s villainy was adorable.

She walked into the dining room hoping to thank him, only to learn that she would have to take luncheon by herself, too, as his lordship was out inspecting roofs that had been damaged by the storm during the night. She sighed. Adorable villainy and responsible stewardship—could a woman ask for any more in a husband?

After luncheon, she made a dent in the mountain of thank-you notes that she must write, approved menus for the next week, then spent an enjoyable hour in the library, where she discovered an entire dossier of older issues of Astronomical Register: A Medium of Communication for Amateur Observers and All Others Interested in the Science of Astronomy.

A most pleasant start to married life, she must admit.

Which would only become pleasanter as day turned into night.

* * *

Felix stared at the billiard table.

In his mind his wife was stretched out on the green baize, naked. Take me, she would murmur. I have been waiting all day.

He struck the cue ball with great violence, scattering the fifteen red balls on the table.

His tenants had been surprised to see him, a man only one day wed, away from his house and his new wife to see to their roofs. They congratulated him and tried to hide their puzzlement. He explained without being asked, in his best happy-rueful air, that the new missus had taken it into her head to get to the running of the household as soon as possible, without him around to provide distractions.

A lift of the brow that suggested he’d give plenty of distractions later satisfied those simple, deferential folks. They wanted him to be well shagged and happy. But he could not be both, at least not with her, now that he realized the sway he’d allowed her to hold over him.

“You can teach me how to play. Then you won’t need to play alone.”