Magic in the Stars by Patricia Rice Page B

Theo gratefully accepted the brandy. He tried not to contrast this dark
room of heavy furniture, scattered books and papers, and dead animals on the
wall with Lady Azenor’s sunny, colorful, and well-ordered parlor, but the vivid
image was emblazoned on his mind.
    Women were an entirely different breed from men, that much
was obvious. He’d never suffered from the lack of female influence but he did
wonder about the changes ahead.
    “You’ve been married,” Theo said, leading with the most
pressing subject. “Do all women keep a house orderly and tightly feathered like
a birds’ nest?”
    Pascoe laughed. “Lily was never home. She ran half a dozen
charities. Our housekeeper does her best to clean the clutter, but as you see—”
His gesture swept the stack of paper and dusty objects on his desk.
“—housekeepers are limited in scope. I shouldn’t think I’d like a feathered
nest much. Are you planning marriage?”
    “If it’s possible to plan marriage, I might be amenable. But I have a suspicion it will take a little
more than specifying my needs as if I were choosing a horse.” Theo sipped his
brandy and contemplated living in a home feathered like Azenor’s. He didn’t
think it possible, and his imagination gave it up to contemplate the more
interesting picture of the lady’s delicious figure in his bed.
    He ought to have something pleasant to contemplate in the midst of total, irrevocable disaster. But the
lady had been unequivocal in insisting that they would not suit. And although he
did not believe in her fated doom, he knew a city girl with ridiculous notions did
not meet his requirements for a wife. He needed a good, practical country
woman—but not Margaret. He shuddered.
    “The closest one can come to planning a wife is to attend
the season’s events and compare the various available misses. That wasn’t for
the likes of me,” Pascoe said with distaste. “I literally ran into Lily in a
very bad section of town. She wouldn’t have been caught dead in a fashionable
salon. But I don’t recommend searching back streets for rare gems as a
practical policy.”
    “One might as well rely on searching the stars,” Theo acknowledged
gloomily.
    After a few more brandies, Pascoe dragged the story out of
him. Rather than bother with the formality of the dining room, they ordered
supper set up before the fire.
    “Much as I hate to say this, Duncan is better off without a
woman who flees at the first sign of trouble.” Pascoe leaned back in his chair
and contemplated the fire after hearing the sorry tale. “Perhaps your lady
friend could search for the right wife for him while she’s looking for one for
you.”
    “Duncan is wallowing in self-pity,” Theo retorted. “It will
take time before he’ll accept that he’s still a valuable commodity.”
    Pascoe snorted at this description. “Put it in terms of
profit, and perhaps he’ll listen. But you’re right, not just yet. He’ll be
hoping his sight will return, and who knows, maybe he’s right. Most physicians
are quacks. Is there any chance someone really tried to kill him?”
    Theo shrugged. “Duncan would know better than I, and he
claims not. He’s not very clear on what happened. The blow to his head
scrambled his memory. He just thinks the horse stumbled while his bosky mind
was elsewhere, and that it was his own fault.”
    “It’s possible.” Pascoe peeled an apple as a servant cleared
the dishes. “If you’ve seen no evidence of wrong-doing, you have no reason to
believe otherwise.”
    Other than the lady’s warning, and that hadn’t been specific,
but Theo’s questioning mind kept picking around the idiocy as one does a scab.
“I don’t want to marry and bring a lady into danger.”
    “You want an excuse for not marrying,” Pascoe pointed out
cheerfully.
    No, he wanted an excuse to marry managing, manipulative, colorful
Lady Azenor so he didn’t have to make an ass of himself bumbling about parlors.
    Theo squeezed the