Social protocol requires a lady to know when she is welcome and when to claim she is otherwise indisposed and unable to venture forth.

—MISS PENCE

June 11, 1887
Royal Observatory, Greenwich

“Did you see this?”

Alex looked up from his notes to see Will Pembroke, the family solicitor, at his office door, a folded copy of the London Times tucked under his arm. The events of the week combined with the conundrum brought by Jacob’s Comet’s appearance had him too befuddled to care about whatever goings-on his friend had found interesting. With so much at stake, he had little time to socialize. His paper on the comet was due the next morning, and he’d not yet managed to catch a free moment to finish it.

“What brings you out to the observatory on a Friday afternoon, Pembroke?”

Pembroke helped himself to the chair across from Alex, then spread the paper out between them. “I repeat, did you see this?” He leaned back and cradled his head in his hands.

“See what?” Alex asked without truly caring about the answer.

“That girl. The one who caused you the trouble.”

He turned the paper his direction and found a headline that referred to the American heiress whose name would forever be associated with a night he longed to forget.

“Miss Beck,” he said under his breath as he rubbed his sore eye. “Indeed I recall her. But what’s this? She performed a stunt at the Wild West show?” Alex chuckled. “Interesting girl, I’ll give her that much.”

“Interesting’s not the half of it.” Will snatched the paper away and gave Alex a spirited reading of the article, pausing only twice to show photographs of the event. Finally, he looked up and shook his head. “The Earl of Framingham’s granddaughter? Can you believe it?”

“She’s a Beck,” Alex said with the appropriate measure of sarcasm as he went back to his numbers. The mantel clock struck three times, a signal that the day was slipping quickly away. Tomorrow morning would arrive whether Alex had a paper to present to the committee or not.

“Beck or not, she’s caused quite the scandal. ‘It’s one thing to play at riding in a coach and quite another to ride behind a galloping Indian brave with your skirts flying.’ ” Will paused. “A direct quote from a well-placed bystander, according to the Times.” He lowered the paper and shrugged. “Anyway, I actually came here to offer a proposition. A business proposition. In America.”

Alex pushed his chair back and moved around the desk to stand in front of Will. “My presentation before the committee is due tomorrow morning at precisely nine whether it’s done or not. And it’s not.” He swiped at his forehead. “Then there is the multitude of things I’m facing at home. At any moment I could be called upon to find money to pay a bill or to impersonate a brother. There could not be a worse time to travel.”

Pembroke shook his head. “Never have I known a man who needed to get away from things more than you.” He grinned. “I’ve taken the liberty of speaking with a colleague of mine who would love to discuss your idea of researching that meteorite of yours.”

“Comet,” Alex corrected, “and who exactly is this colleague?”

“It would take all the fun out of it if I told you.” He nudged Alex. “But I’ll give you a hint. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Goodsell Observatory.”

“In Minnesota? Excellent facility.” Alex paused. “Why? Is there a delegation visiting London? Perhaps you could set up a meeting for sometime next week.”

“Not exactly, but have you heard of Roeschlaub?”

“The architect?” Alex’s temper began to spike. He returned to his chair and attempted a glare. “I gave up riddles when I left the nursery, Pembroke, and I thought you had as well. Just say it.”

Will’s excited expression did not diminish. “All right, but this is completely off the record.” He closed the door, then returned his attention to Alex. “It’s possible that a donation will soon be made to secure an observatory in one of the Western states that will rival Goodsell.”

“Interesting,” Alex said as he retrieved his papers. “But I fail to see what that has to do with you or me or anything else we’ve discussed since you arrived.”

“Leadville.”

“Colorado?” Alex shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

Pembroke returned to the chair across from Alex. “I don’t suppose you follow the production reports on the Hambly mining properties in Leadville.” When Alex shook his head, Will continued. “Not worth the paper they’re written on, though I doubt your father’s aware of it. That mine’s done for. Summit Hill is, however, on one of the highest elevations in Leadville, and thus a much better location for an observatory than the one now being considered in Denver.”

“I see.” Alex gave the matter a moment’s consideration. “You’d like me in attendance to execute the documents before the investor changes his mind.”

“Actually,” Will said slowly, “there hasn’t been a formal offer to purchase. Yet.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

“You’re a personable enough fellow with a string of titles, and—”

“All of them worthless when compared to what my brother will inherit. Why not bring him?” Alex interjected.

“All joking aside,” Will continued, “you know how the Americans love nobility. Perhaps a meeting with a few of the key investors would sway the decision in our favor.”

“And to do that I would have to …”

“Take a trip out West, my friend. Where the buffalo roam and the skies are not cloudy all day.”

Alex shook his head. “You’re mad.”

“That’s partially true, but there’s more.” Will leaned his elbows on the desk. “The family’s in trouble. Financial trouble.”

Alex’s heart sank. “I’m sorry. How can I help?”

“Not my family. Yours.”

“How bad is it?” Alex said, bitterness but not surprise lacing his tone.

Will paused and seemed to be considering his words. “Bad. And getting worse. If you think about it, the only one capable of reversing this is you. Given his uncertain state, Martin certainly can’t. Neither your father nor your mother can make the trip either. Thus, it falls to you to save the Hambly dynasty.”

Again. Several responses occurred to him, but Alex remained silent.

“There is another way.” Will crossed his arms over his chest. “I am reluctant to bring it up, but there is a way to manage the dual purposes of salvaging the family fortune and keeping you in telescopes and stargazing equipment.”

Alex paused. “What is it?” he asked wearily.

“Marry a wealthy American. You wouldn’t be the first, you know. Worked out beautifully for the Churchills.”

Alex only stared a moment at Pembroke before laughter erupted. “That’s wonderful,” he said. “Why didn’t I think of that? Just offer myself up to some insipid daughter of a Yank with bulging coffers and not much in the way of good sense.”

“Some are quite lovely.” Will pointed to the Times. “With decent pedigrees. Such as Charlotte Beck.”

“The hellion? Oh no. You’ve had some odd ideas before, but—”

“Just hear me out,” Will said. “A merger of the Beck and Hambly families would be quite the coup. Romeo and Juliet unite a dynasty.” At Alex’s scowl, Will shook his head. “All right, then, think logically. She’s of marriageable age.”

“Too young for me, Pembroke. I prefer a woman not fresh from the nursery.”

“Let me present my case, for argument’s sake.”

Alex leaned back against his chair. “Do make it brief, solicitor.”

“Like it or not, you shall marry. Sooner rather than later because, again, Martin certainly cannot. You said yourself that you’re far too busy to find a suitable wife, so—”

“I said I was busy. No mention was made of wife-hunting.”

“Nonetheless, family finances and your conscience dictate that at some point you will cease your work here and take on the responsibility of keeping the countess and the others from being thrown into the street. If you want to dedicate your life to the study of the stars and comets, then why not let me help you arrange a suitable solution to these problems now, before they keep you from that study?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Only slightly.” Will’s expression sobered. “If nothing is done to change the situation, there will be nothing left in the bank.”

“Then start selling properties.” Alex rested his palms on the carefully stacked pages of research before him. “Raise as much cash as you can to pay whatever debts are the most pressing. That should do the trick, shouldn’t it?”

Will tilted his head. “People will talk.”

“Let them,” Alex snapped.

A nod. “Done. That should buy a few years of ease.”

“Good,” Alex said. “Now might I return to my work? I’ve got a year’s worth of research to present tomorrow, and I’d like to avoid looking the fool.”

“Yes, of course. There’s just one more thing.”

“What?” Alex said, the word coming out on a long breath. “And do be brief.”

“Miss Beck? Shall I make inquiries as to her father’s interest in joining families? I understand the older Mr. Beck is quite levelheaded and decent in comparison to his brother. Though,” Will said, with the beginnings of a grin, “I cannot vouch for his ability to connect with a decent left-handed jab like his brother can.”

“Out.”

“Do find your humor,” Will said. “Remember, all you have to do is get the Beck woman to marry you. Then what’s hers is yours. What formerly belonged to the Becks will be in control of the Hamblys.”

“Will, I’ve no desire to—”

“I would be breaking a confidence to tell you exactly what she’s inheriting upon the earl’s death, but you’d be shocked to know the value that’s been settled on her head.”

“I’ve no time to be shocked,” Alex said, “so your secret’s safe. Nor do I have time to entertain potential buyers on the other side of the ocean, be they seeking to purchase family mines or the family name. Thus, I believe our discussion is over.”

Alex went back to his notes, settling the massive stack into three smaller and more manageable piles. If only he had actual data on the comet. The data on hand would have to suffice for now.

Someday, however, if he could convince the Astronomer Royal of the value of the project, perhaps he’d find the comet.

“So you won’t mind that I’ve made discreet inquiries as to the cost of a mention in the next issue of The Titled American?” Will asked. “I understand it’s required reading for the Dollar Princesses.”

“Out. Now.”

Will steepled his hands and leaned forward. “Understand that while I am paid to see to the Hambly family’s interests, the fact that you are my best friend makes me partial to your interests over the rest.”

The sharp retort Alex had planned died in his throat. “I appreciate that, friend. Truly, I do.”

“Then receive my advice with an open heart. Seek out a bride, preferably Miss Beck, and settle the question of finances once and for all. Then you can live happily with your work, and you’ll never have to worry about selling off parts of the Hambly empire to keep the family from ruin.” He reached for the documents on the desk between them and Alex’s heart lurched. “With nothing to do but compile pages and pages of this stargazing material while your family leaves you blissfully alone.”

“Please.” Alex reached for the precious documents. “Put those back.” When Will complied, Alex breathed a sigh of relief. If anything were to happen to his notes …

“Am I allowed to make discreet inquiries?”

“As to meeting with potential buyers of the Leadville mine, yes. As to an arrangement of marriage? No.” Alex held up his hand to silence Will’s protest. “As to Miss Beck in particular, I prefer not to be saddled with a woman who can shoot better than me.”

“Consider it, Alex.”

Alex let out a long sigh. Rarely did his friend prove so persistent. “After my presentation tomorrow and not a moment before.” He gave Will a direct look. “Not one minute before. And not another word about the Beck woman. She’s completely …” Words escaped him.

“Unsuitable?” Will supplied.

“Indeed. As is the idea of marriage at all. Not when there are other options.”

“Understood.” The chair creaked as Will rose.

Alex’s office door flew open, and words tumbled toward him. “A word with you, Mr. Hambly.”

“Miss Beck.” Will Pembroke gave the disgraced heiress his most dignified bow then moved to stand between her and Alex. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you the viscount and I were just speaking of you.”