Chapter Five

"H e seems to like you very much."

Blessing eyed her sister, trying to decide how to keep Fortuity quiet or convince her to report Lord Knightwood's visit in such a manner as to stanch their brother's marriage-minded aspirations. Fortuity couldn't lie to save her soul—much like Serendipity. Not that Blessing could lie either, but at least she possessed the ability to dance around a subject with at least a modicum of artfulness. "You heard what Chance and Seri said about the man."

"That he is a rake?"

"Exactly. Beds them. Doesn't wed them."

"Then why did he visit and behave like the perfect gentleman?" Fortuity adjusted the flame on the lamp beside her, then scribbled another note in the margins of a sheet so full she would soon have to start a fresh one.

"I have no idea." And that filled Blessing with a heady mixture of fascination and dread. If the man had no interest in marriage, then his calls were tantamount to an insult, to his saying he considered her a lightskirt and easy prey. In that case, how dare he! But rather than make her angry, if she was honest, it made her somewhat sad. Well, maybe not sad—but unhappily wistful?

She shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Good heavens, Chance had contaminated her thinking—making her view the subject of matrimony with an overt amount of seriousness. She snorted the silliness right out of her head.

"You like him." Fortuity sat there staring at her while thoughtfully chewing on the end of her pencil.

"I do not know the man." Blessing busied herself at the telescope even though she had researched and written every detail she could about the moon without actually going there.

"You know him well enough to know whether or not you like him."

"I met the man in the garden at a ball, danced a waltz with him, and spoke with him today for perhaps a quarter of an hour. I daresay that is not knowing someone well enough to know whether or not you like them."

"Intuition and heart," Fortuity countered. "Remember what Mama said about Papa? How she knew within moments of meeting him that he was the one for her?" She patted her chest. "Mama said a woman's heart and intuition are their very best compasses for navigating life's path." After pausing to make another note on her parchment, she tapped on it, then gave Blessing a meaningful look. "What does your intuition and heart tell you?"

"That I do not know him well enough." Blessing was not about to confide in Fortuity, because not only could her younger sister not tell a passable lie, but she was also incapable of keeping a secret. Serendipity was the only safe confidante, and in this matter, even she was questionable.

A light thump on the bottom of the observatory door, as though someone had gently kicked it, interrupted them. Without opening it, Walters called out in a strained voice, "A delivery has arrived for you, my lady."

Blessing frowned at Fortuity, who responded with a curious shrug and shooed her to hurry and open it. Blessing crossed the room, opened the door, and then found herself unable to speak.

"My lady?" Walters said from behind the largest armload of pink, purple, and blue asters that Blessing had ever seen. "Where would you like them? They were delivered in quite a nice vase, but Mrs. Flackney said we should add water to it once we place them where you wish them to be. A scroll is tied to the neck of the vase with a ribbon. Along the edge of the scroll is written, Read first ."

"Read first?" As if she wouldn't notice the massive bouquet that usually didn't bloom until Michaelmas? These hothouse lovelies, forced to bloom early, must have been quite dear indeed. Blessing realized that the vase of flowers was probably growing quite heavy in their poor butler's grasp. "Forgive me, Walters. Do come in and place them on the center table there. That will do nicely."

"Thank you, Lady Blessing." The man's relief was unmistakable. He placed the arrangement on the table, then bent and pointed at the beribboned scroll hanging from the neck of the loveliest vase. Its background glaze was the deepest blue of a midnight sky and pinpricks of gold were scattered across it like stars.

Without straightening, the butler asked, "Shall I remove the scroll so you might read it, my lady?"

"That would be wonderful, Walters. Thank you."

With the greatest of care, the man untied the ribbon and slipped it out from around the vase. As he presented it to her, he offered a slight bow. "If that will be all, my lady, I shall advise Mrs. Flackney to send in a maid with more water for the flowers."

"Thank you, Walters. That will do nicely." Blessing waited until he'd left the room before moving to the window for better light to read the scroll.

Fortuity joined her, nudging in close and almost bouncing with curiosity. "Hurry and unroll it."

Blessing didn't mind Fortuity nosing in to see what the scroll said. With six sisters, there was no such thing as privacy unless one fought for it, and Blessing preferred to choose her battles with care. She unrolled the scroll and smiled at the familiar name that caught her eye.

My dearest Lady Blessing,

The legends say that the goddess Astraea lived alongside mankind the longest of all the immortals. But she was forced to abandon her precious humans when mighty Zeus sent a great flood to rid the world of man's evil. As she fled to the sky, her tears for the terrible loss of life became stardust that spread across the earth, creating the first aster flowers. Once she reached the heavens, her sorrow was so unbearable that Zeus allowed her to become the constellation Virgo and find her peace among the other stars. It is said that when Astraea finally returns to the mortal world, she will bring with her a new Golden Age.

You are that Golden Age, Lady Blessing. A stunning ray of hope in an otherwise cynical world.

Ever your faithful and devoted servant,

Thorne

"Oh my," Fortuity said in a breathless whisper.

"Oh my, indeed," Blessing agreed, reading the scroll a second time while pressing a hand to her pounding heart. He had done this for her. Because of her love of the stars. His thoughtfulness, his attention to what she was truly interested in, touched her so much. Only Papa had ever done such things before, saying it was his job to treat all his daughters special until they found a man worthy of them, one willing to treat them with the loving care they deserved.

"What are you going to do?" Fortuity asked, still speaking in a whisper as if the scroll were a living thing that might be offended if it was not treated with the proper reverence.

Blessing pulled in a deep breath, then let it ease out, the thrilled pattering of her heart still echoing in her ears. "I honestly do not know what to do. None of this makes sense." She carefully rerolled the scroll and secured it with the ribbon, knowing she would keep this precious memento always.

"The man does not marry," she said more to herself than to her sister. "Seri and Chance both said so, and Seri said it was well known among the ton that he prefers other men's wives and widows who are not interested in marriage." Her cheeks burned with a furious blush at the thought of what the widows were interested in when it came to Lord Knightwood. "He is not old, but he is old enough that he should have found a wife years ago and already have an heir or two to take over the barony when he leaves this world. Obviously, he does not wish to ever marry."

"Or perhaps he simply has not found the woman he wishes to marry."

Blessing couldn't keep from rolling her eyes. "This is not one of your happily-ever-after love tales, Tutie."

Fortuity twitched another shrug, her smug demeanor saying exactly what she thought about that.

Blessing placed the scroll in the drawer of the table beside her telescope, alongside her journals and charts. It should be safe enough from nosy siblings there, since she kept her observatory locked. After closing the drawer, she threatened her sister with a shake of her finger. "Not one word about the scroll to anyone or I will tell Chance where you hide all your finished stories."

"You wouldn't."

"Are you brave enough to try me?"

"Walters knows about the scroll," Fortuity said, "and I am sure Mrs. Flackney and all the maids already know it exists too. One of them will surely say something about it to Seri or Chance." She gave a temperamental jerk of her head. "If they find out about that scroll, it will not be my fault."

Blessing eked out a frustrated groan. "Gads, you are right. They are sure to come knocking at any moment, and then Chance is going to be as unstable as a tailless kite in a high wind."

"You might as well tell them the man is courting you."

"But what if he is not? What if he is merely trying his hand at seducing unsuspecting innocents rather than other men's wives or widows?"

Fortuity snorted. "I would hardly label you as unsuspecting or innocent."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Blessing did not have time to spar with her sister—not when the rest of her siblings could descend upon her at any moment. "I am a virgin, have never courted anyone, and you know as well as I that none of us have ever experienced what one might call a Season at the mercy of the Marriage Mart."

"What I meant was that out of all of us, you are the boldest and most likely to tell the man to go straight to the devil if he does anything you do not wish him to do." Fortuity returned to the writing table, gathered up her notes, and tucked them into the crook of her arm.

"Where are you going?" A disturbing sense of rising panic curdled in Blessing's middle. "You cannot desert me in my hour of need."

Fortuity stared at her as if she didn't know who she was. "This is not like you at all. Why would you say this is your hour of need ?"

"You know either Seri or Chance—and possibly the others—are going to come through that door at any moment."

"You threatened my stories." Fortuity hiked her chin higher. "I am going upstairs to move them."

"Tutie…please?" Blessing hated to beg, but the thought of becoming Chance's primary focus unsettled her as much or more than the disturbing realization that she rather liked Lord Knightwood's attention a great deal more than she should.

A light rapping on the door made her jump.

"Essie—may I enter? Walters said you received a lovely bouquet," Serendipity called from the other side.

"I am here too," Chance said, his deep voice entirely too excited.

"And so it begins," Blessing muttered.

Fortuity gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, then took a seat back at the writing table. "I shall be right here."

After a resigned sigh, Blessing told them, "You may come in and see them."

The door swung open, and her siblings rushed into the room like a pair of children invited into a sweet shop.

"Oh my," Serendipity exclaimed, "asters? How stunning and unexpected this time of year."

Chance circled the table, bending, straightening, and then bending again as he examined the flowers and the exquisite vase from every possible angle. "And to whom do you owe thanks for this thoughtful gesture, dear Essie?"

"Do not play the innocent or the obtuse, brother. It does not suit you." Blessing resettled her stance, readying for the battle of wills. "You know the identity of the sender as well as I do. Of that, I am sure."

"I am crushed you would speak to me in such a way. Why would you say such a thing?" Chance assumed a hurt look that didn't fool Blessing for a moment.

"Because Walters gossips worse than the tittle-tattle sheets, and I am quite certain he sorted out who the sender was before he even brought the flowers to me." It had not escaped Blessing's notice that the ribbon securing the scroll to the vase appeared to have been untied and retied before the butler retrieved it and handed it to her. The creases in the strip of blue satin gave the servant's actions away. In Walters's defense, none of their servants would be able to resist the temptation of at least peeking to see who had sent the gift. They kept up with everything in the household.

"Lord Knightwood seems to be playing some sort of game," she announced with unhappy conviction.

"Game?" her older siblings repeated in unison.

"What game?" Serendipity stepped forward, concern tightening her features as she took hold of both of Blessing's hands. She glanced at Fortuity where she sat at the writing table. "Was his behavior unseemly? Were unsavory advances made? I will not have any of my sisters treated in such a manner." She turned and fixed a hard stare on Chance. "Will we?"

"Absolutely not," Chance said. He strode forward, took Blessing's hands away from Serendipity, and peered into her eyes. "No matter how badly I wish to see each of you married, I will not tolerate any man mistreating or maligning you. Do I need to pay Lord Knightwood a visit?"

"He was a complete gentleman, and his visit was brief," Blessing said. She turned to Fortuity. "What did it last, Tutie? Perhaps a quarter of an hour?"

"If that," Fortuity said. "He invited us to join him on a ride to the park in his landau, but Essie refused."

Blessing cringed. Fortuity would have to volunteer that tidbit.

"Why did you refuse?" Chase dropped her hands as if they burned him. "With Tutie as your chaperone, it would have been completely proper."

"It did not feel proper," Blessing said. "Besides, you and Seri said the man is a rake who beds rather than weds. If that is the case, what possible interest could he have in me? Perhaps his attentions are actually an insult. Did either of you happen to think about that?" It pained her to malign the man, but she couldn't ignore her fears. Why would a confirmed bachelor who had no interest in marriage waste not only his time—her gaze returned to the extraordinary flowers—but also his money on her?

"That is not a baseless question," Serendipity noted with a worried tone. "What did the scroll say?"

"And how did you know about the scroll?" Blessing arched a brow and decided to have a very stern word with Walters at her next opportunity.

"I… Uhm…" Serendipity threw up both hands. "You know very well how I knew about the scroll. What did it say?"

Rather than argue or huff about, Blessing snatched it out of the drawer and handed it to her sister. "Since privacy does not exist in this household, here. Read it for yourself."

After extending her the courtesy of looking somewhat ashamed, Serendipity unrolled the parchment, read it, then released a heartfelt sigh.

"Well?" Chance stepped closer and peered over her shoulder. "Is it insulting?"

"Not in the least," Fortuity volunteered from her perch at the writing table.

"These are not the words of a rake," Serendipity said as she handed the scroll back to Blessing.

"How would you know?" Blessing demanded. "Exactly how many rakes have sent you messages?" She returned the scroll to the safety of the drawer and then glared at her siblings.

"I shall speak with the man and ask him his intentions," Chance said.

"You will not." The mere thought of her brother doing such a thing horrified Blessing. Wasn't this entire situation humiliating enough? She hadn't a clue how to handle it, nor had she completely decided if she wished Lord Knightwood's attentions to come to an end. "Leave it alone, Chance. This is my situation to handle."

"It is not," her brother argued. "I am not only protecting your honor but keeping your best interests at heart."

"You are not. You are trying to hurry and marry me off so you can put the next sister on the auction block."

"Essie." The dismay in her brother's eyes filled her with guilt. She truly had hurt his feelings with that remark.

"Forgive me, Chance." Blessing tried to restore a modicum of control with a deep breath. "Might we simply see how things go along? Surely, if I keep a tight hold on my virtue, if that truly is Lord Knightwood's goal, he shall soon grow bored and move on to someone else."

"Not necessarily," Chance said with a dubious frown. "A man always wants what he cannot have, and when it is kept from him, his resolve often strengthens."

"That sounds like the voice of experience." Blessing folded her arms across her chest and silently dared her brother to say more.

"Lady Burrastone's party is tomorrow evening," Serendipity interrupted. "You know how she is about including the most interesting and lively persons at her gatherings. Lord Knightwood is sure to be invited. If he is, flirt with the others in attendance and see how he reacts."

"Flirt? I have no idea how to flirt. " Had Serendipity gone mad with the stress of life without Mama and Papa and dealing with Chance? Blessing glared at her.

Chance rubbed his eyes as if getting another of the headaches he always felt whenever dealing with his sisters. "Pay attention to other men. Talk to them. Smile at them. Laugh at whatever insipid foolishness they happen to spout in your presence."

Insulted at their suggestion that she should behave like an affectionate puppy, Blessing jutted her chin higher. "I refuse to dance upon a string like a lovesick puppet. The man I marry will love and cherish me without all those foolish parlor games."

"So you do intend to marry?" Chance said, grinning like a hunter who had just felled the plumpest partridge.

"Eventually, if—and that is a very large if , mind you—I love the man, and he loves me more than he loves my dowry." She nodded at the door. "You have seen the flowers and read the scroll. You may now go. Both of you." She turned and gave Fortuity an apologetic smile. "You may go now as well, Tutie, and do not worry. My lips are sealed."

"Your lips are sealed about what?" Chance eyed them both, glancing back and forth as if trying to catch them passing secret messages by blinking in a certain sequence.

"If I told you, then they wouldn't be sealed, now would they?" Blessing caught hold of his arm and then Serendipity's and tugged them both toward the door. "Out. Now. I shall see you again at teatime. Agreed?"

When finally alone, she contemplated locking herself inside but decided against it. One of the maids would soon be coming with water for the flowers. She touched the velvety softness of the aster's delicate petals, hitching in a deep breath at the memory of Lord Knightwood's sentiments on the scroll. A scroll—not the usual folded note with a wax seal, but a scroll befitting the goddess Astraea herself.

Serendipity had said a rake would not write such things, but Blessing feared her sister might be wrong. Wouldn't a man desiring to debauch a woman write exactly those sorts of things to catch the lady's heart and make her an easier conquest? And that question made Blessing sad, because even though she knew the sort of man Lord Knightwood was, she rather liked him. He was inventive—and interesting. He was also the first man who had ever taken an interest in what interested her. Of course, to be fair, he was the first man she had allowed close enough to even discover what interested her.

Her gaze lowered to the exquisite vase that held the flowers—such a gorgeous and unique depiction of a starry night. How had he possibly found it so quickly when he had only just visited today?

"What are Lord Knightwood's intentions?"

Unfortunately, the midnight-blue urn with the golden stars remained silent, as did the asters.

She turned away from the flowers and made her way to the wall of windows overlooking the gardens and the mews. From this vantage point, and with the clearness of the balmy spring day, she could see across the way to forever. Unfortunately, forever wasn't what she was looking for—answers were.

Then Lord Knightwood stepped out of the shelter of the ancient oak Mama had insisted they leave growing beside the stable. He smiled up at her, almost as if he had known she would come to the window and look for him as she had done the other day. After a polite nod, he touched his lips, then his heart, then extended his hand as though handing her the possession of both.

Without thinking, she touched her heart at his gesture, then hurried to drop her hand to her side when she realized what she had done.

His smile went as broad as could be, his straight white teeth gleaming. Then he laughed, swept off his hat, and bowed.

She touched the window, flattening her hand on the cool pane.

He reached for her again and held his hand the same way, as though pressing his palm to hers.

"What do you want with me, Lord Knightwood?" she whispered.

Almost as though he heard her, he touched his chest again, then offered his heart to her with another flourish of his hand.

She backed away from the window, her own heart pounding. She already liked him very much. Too much, truth be told. But was it safe to do so? No matter how lovely he made her feel, no matter how badly she wanted his attentions to continue, she would not be toyed with, nor played for a fool. Not only would that ruin her life, but also ruin her sisters. It only took one wayward daughter to bring down an entire family in the eyes of the ton.

With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she eased forward once more and peered out the window. Her heart fell with the saddest thump, like a stone dropped into a pond. He was gone. As she stared at the spot where he had stood, she wished she could just race after him and demand to know what he was trying to do. What were his intentions? But then, what would she do when he told her?

"I have to know." She whirled about, went to the writing table, and took a seat. Selecting a sheet of her best stationery, she held the inked quill above it and stared at the creamy expanse of emptiness waiting to be filled with her thoughts. Yes. She would do this. She would write to him, ask him his intentions, and then act accordingly.

A huffing snort escaped her. Whatever act accordingly meant.