Magic in the Stars (25 page)

Previously, he would have been horrified at the idea of
anyone striking at his livelihood. But money couldn’t buy him sanity. Right
now, his focus was on one thing only—obtaining the license that would make Lady
Azenor Dougall his and his alone. After that, maybe he’d worry about glass and
idiots and sheep—preferably a long time after.

Maybe they should take a honeymoon to the Outer Hebrides.

He liked that thought entirely too well. Wondering if Duncan
had ever considered running away from his responsibilities, Theo urged his
horse to the vicarage to begin the arrangements for a marriage.

***

“You are really considering
marriage
?” Bree asked in whispered horror over the breakfast table.
The children had been whisked away by a maid-in-training who had decided she
might like working in the schoolroom.

Aster added jam to her toast and dreamily contemplated what
other women normally spent lifetimes planning. She had never indulged in marriage
fantasies—or not for long, leastways.

“There are planets out there not in my charts,” she answered
obliquely, more interested in thinking about what Theo’s hands and kisses could
do.

“Does that mean that everything you’ve told us about our
charts is wrong?” Dee demanded. “Is Edward
not
the right man for me?”

“Astrologically, Edward is the ideal man for you,” Aster said,
puzzling out how she could know this without charting Uranus into her cousin’s
chart. “There might be slight differences if I apply the mathematical
calculations I used last night, but would you give him up over slight
differences? If so, then you had best not marry him.”

Dee slumped in her chair and glared at her teacup. “I want
certainties. Do you even love Lord Theo?”

Aster shrugged and sipped her tea. “I don’t know that love
can be charted or predicted. He needs me. We enjoy each other’s company.” And
more, but she wouldn’t try to explain the physical bliss he’d taught her last
night. “Is there a better basis for marriage?”

“Aster!” Bree nearly shouted, horrified. “You cannot just
take the first man who offers simply because he asks. Marriage is forever! One
needs love to smooth over the difficulties, and heaven only knows, this
household is simply bursting with difficulties.”

Aster smiled over her teacup. “And here I believed everyone
thought me compromised and that I must marry. Tut, tut, my dears, you are
showing your eccentricity.”

Bree glared back at her as only sisters could. “If all those
guests were your friends, they wouldn’t say anything.”

“People talk. It’s what they do best. Father’s allowance is
modest and not sufficient for clothing and feeding the servants I train. If my
reputation is ruined, my additional income will dry up. But here . . .”
Aster sat back and admired the enormous dining hall they’d cleaned and refreshed.
“Here, I could train an army, and the Ives fortune won’t even notice the dent.”

“That’s not what marriage is about,” Dee grumbled unhappily.

“Edward is off making his fortune so he can afford to keep
you in the style to which you are accustomed,” Aster pointed out. “Marriage is
about many things, some of them unpleasantly financial. You may dream of love
and romance and hearts and flowers, if you wish. I’ve never had that opportunity.
To find a man who knows about my disastrous chart and is willing to brave it to
have me . . . That’s romantic enough for me.”

She’d almost convinced herself that marriage was the best
choice. If she could simply concentrate on all the positive arguments and avoid
the negative ones, her Libra need for balance would happily take vows.

She’d already given
her vow.

Inhaling sharply at that memory, she wondered what had
inspired that moment of sublime commitment. Or insanity. She’d barely realized
she’d known the words. Had she actually said she vowed to
love
Theo?

He hadn’t said the same—but then as she well knew, Theo did
not always speak his feelings. Although the things he’d said last night—had
been said in the heat of passion. In the cold light of day, he hadn’t even
waited around to kiss her good morning.

There she went again, waffling. It wasn’t as if she actually
believed she was in love with Theo. She was much too practical for that. Her
concern needed to be whether it was
safe
for her to marry. She didn’t want to bring more danger into anyone’s lives, and
unfortunately, she didn’t see how she could close her heart to Theo and his
family so they’d be safe from her unstable chart.

She fretted over that far more than the realities of
marriage to a man of science who didn’t believe in the zodiac.

As they finished breakfast, Jacques entered, seeming
diffident.

Of all the Ives men, he looked and behaved least like an
Ives. He was blond, slight, and possessed a smile that was almost boyish in its
charm. Of course, he was only twenty-three, if she remembered his chart. He
wasn’t smiling now as he waited for Aster to acknowledge him.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, gathering up her shawl and
thinking she needed to send for more clothes. And a wedding gown! She’d burnt
her only good day dress.

“Dunc won’t answer his door, Theo has gone to London, and we
have a problem Mr. Browne isn’t suited to handle.” He shoved his hands in his
coat pockets and frowned at Bree and Dee.

“And you have some odd notion that I can?” Aster asked in
astonishment.

“It involves women,” he said bluntly. “And if something
isn’t done quickly, one of them will kill the other, and Theo will have a real
problem on his hands.”

“Women? If they’re some of the marquess’s mistresses or the
like, then I would just take a broom to them. That’s most likely not the best
solution,” she said pertly.

“Tenants. They’re fighting over a cow. It was just words
before, but it’s escalated to fists and hair pulling. I fear it will grow
worse.”

Puzzled, Aster donned her shawl. “I cannot imagine what I
can do. Are they very far off? I don’t ride.”

“Not far, but the gig will take us faster than walking, if
you don’t mind.” He seemed relieved and worried at the same time.

“I trust neither of them has a knife.” Hoping the morning
wasn’t too cool, she hurried toward the stable exit. She wasn’t wearing boots,
but her shoe wardrobe was as limited as her gowns. She really needed to send
for more if she meant to stay.

She did mean to stay, didn’t she? To live in disorder and
chaos and abandon her beautiful city nest? Panic clawed at her insides, but
action allowed her to hide it.

“Agatha has a rake that she swung at us when we tried to
interfere. If William were here, he could probably grab her, but I don’t think
I could take on either of them without causing grave insult. Assaulting tenants
is probably not the done thing.” He hurried her out to the yard where a
stableman was hooking up the traces to a polished low-slung gig.

“And hauling women about is the only way you can contrive to
settle a fight?” she asked in disbelief.

“If they were men, we’d just wade into the fray and pop them
one until they saw stars,” Jacques asserted. “I’m not bad at fisticuffs. But
I’ve never hit a woman.”

“Thank goodness for that.” She allowed him to hand her into the
gig. “Where are their families?”

Jacques shrugged. “I do not keep up on the tenants, but from
some of the argument, I gather a father or son is involved. But there were no
men about while we were there.”

“You live here but you do not know the tenants?” Aster tried
to fathom how that might be, but the inhabitants of her father’s rural lands
were more family than tenants. It was a very small estate built mostly on
rocks, after all.

“Dunc deals with them. And the steward. I didn’t really grow
up here. I know the men who hang about the tavern on a Saturday evening, but I
have enough problems without hanging about their daughters.” He scowled.

That was the first time she’d seen him scowl. There might
actually be depths to the pretty boy. “No scattering of more Ives’ bastards?”
she asked cheerfully. “That must be hard on you.”

He shot her a look of incredulity. “You do not mince words,
do you?”

“Do you think I’d have any chance of surviving here if I
did?” she asked.

He accepted that without argument and continued bluntly, “I
send most of my allowance to my mother to keep her in fripperies so she can
look the part of wealthy lady. I am hoping she’ll find a protector. Supporting
a mistress isn’t in my cards.”

Aster compared his words to what she recalled of his chart
and shook her head. “That’s not all, is it? You have a dream that you’re hiding
from your brothers.”

The dappled mare clip-clopped a half mile before he reluctantly
replied. “She knows theater people and brags about my plays to producers. I’ve
even had one or two accepted, although they’ve made very little money. I’ve
vowed if I have no success by the time I’m twenty-five, I’ll take over Theo’s
glassworks. He can use the help, and I’m not totally incompetent.”

“No, you’re just an Aries, with dreams bigger than you are.
You need to be in London, rubbing elbows with dramatists, making yourself
known. I believe most successful men become so by knowing the right people.”

Before he could respond, they heard the furious shouts of
the fight over the hedge, and Aster gestured for him to stop. “Best not to let
the mare too close to a brawl. I can walk from here.”

Jacques tied the animal to a tree and followed her over the
stile into a field apparently used as an animal pen. A few bored sheep munched
a patch of clover, and a cow and her calf lay in a brief patch of sunlight
through the clouds.

At the edge of the enclosure, two women reached across the
stone-and-hedge wall, yanking each other’s hair and trying to drag one another
across the barrier. Fists had been engaged and blood had been spilled, but so
far, the rake and hoe nearby did not seem to be in play.

“He gave the bloody cow to me!” the tall, black-haired
younger of the two women yelled. “You have no right to steal it. I’m going to
the marquess, and you’ll see who gets what.”

A stouter, shorter woman with salt-and-pepper hair flying down
her back did her best to smash the taller woman’s head into the wall. “It’s my
cow and he had no right to give it over. I raised her since birth. She feeds my
young ’uns. And you’ll take her over my dead body.”

“Women ain’t got no rights, you old biddy! He gave it for
services rendered, all proper and square. I
earned
that cow!”

“I begin to see the problem,” Aster whispered as they
approached. “Is the older lady married and the younger one not?”

“I believe the younger is a widow. I’ve seen her in the
tavern, entertaining several of the men. I know naught of the other.” Jacques
held her elbow to assist her over the rough field.

Perhaps this was the kind of problem Aster could help Theo
with. She knew little about cows, but she knew people. Eager to prove to
herself that she wasn’t making a mistake by marrying Theo, she studied the
situation.

“I’ll come up on their near side,” she suggested, “if you’ll
come up on their far side and remove their weapons, please. I’d rather not be
smacked in the face with a hoe.”
Before
her wedding
, she didn’t add. That still seemed a little ephemeral with the
groom missing. With her luck and planets, Theo had probably broken his neck
galloping to the bishop.

“Hello, ladies,” she said cheerfully, lifting her old skirt
and approaching from the nearest side.

Caught up in their fury, neither woman responded.

She really wished she knew if they fought over husband or
son. Barring that, she wished she had a broom. Or a bucket of water. She
glanced around, noted Jacques had purloined the weapons, and saw a bucket by
the water trough. She nodded in that direction. His eyes widened, but like all
Ives, he was smart and caught on quickly.

“The marquess sent me to see what the quarrel is about,” she
said more loudly. “I do believe he is the magistrate. Shall I take your
grievance to him?”

“Who the devil are you?” the younger woman demanded, yanking
harder on the older woman’s long hair.

“Lady Azenor Dougall, affianced to Lord Theophilus. If you
don’t cease your fisticuffs, I shall have to resort to drastic measures.
Wouldn’t it be better to state your case rather than decapitate each other?”

The younger woman swung her fist at the older’s jaw, sending
the matron staggering. But neither released their holds. So much for reason and
logic.

“Well, Miss La-di-da,” the younger sneered. “I’m Mrs. Maeve
Higby and this here cow stole my cow. I want it back. You tell the marquess
Maeve wants Agatha arrested.”

Aster was developing a strong dislike for the bigger of the
two. “And you’re Agatha?” she asked of the older woman.

“My Harvey did not give that cow to the whore,” the
presumed-Agatha shouted. “She’s lying!”

Ah, they were coming closer to the core of the argument. Still,
she didn’t know if they were talking husband or son. “And who might Harvey be?
If you would please release each other, we might reach the bottom of this
faster.”

“The witch got him drunk!” the older woman shouted. “My
Harvey never strayed afore.” Infuriated at just stating this aloud, the wife
used both hands to slam Maeve’s head into the hedge.

With a sigh, Aster nodded at Jacques, who stood by with a
bucket. Granted permission, he happily flung the water over both women.

They shrieked and jumped apart, wiping at the foul-smelling slime
dripping down their faces. Aster hurried to place herself between them. “Cooler
heads prevail,” she informed them. “Mrs. Higby, I would have your tale first.”

Before either could speak, young Hugh galloped up on a
restive mare. “Mr. Browne says I’m to take both ladies to the office,” he shouted.