Talk Sweetly to Me (Brothers Sinister 4.5)

She sniffed.

“You, on the other hand…”

She shook her head. “We are not talking of me.”

“You, I wager, do not dream timid dreams. You walk with your head in the clouds.”

“Oh, no. The clouds are in the troposphere. My thoughts lie well beyond the mesosphere.”

“Precisely. So tell me, Miss Sweetly. What is it you see for yourself, after you send me on my way? What is your grand plan?”

Behind them, Mrs. Barnstable changed a page in her typewriter. Rose flushed and looked away. “There is no grand plan. My father is on the board of the African Times. It has been their mission for the last decades to see to the elevation of the race. They’ve sponsored a number of medical students in their work, starting from Africanus Horton.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Patricia—my sister—married one of those students. They met over dinner, took one look at each other…and that was the end of it. Everyone expects that I’ll marry one of the two students arriving in the next year.” Rose traced a trailing vine on her skirt. “I suppose I do, too.”

“And is that what you want?” he asked in a low voice. “To marry a medical student on scholarship? To have his children and to keep his home?”

“I am not opposed to marriage. And yes, I should like children.” She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“Will your husband let you spend your days in computation? Will he listen to you talk of parallax and the transit of Venus? Or will he expect you to subside into compliance, to set your slide rule aside until it is dusty and warped?”

Her chin went up. “How do you suppose I met Dr. Barnstable? He’s also on the board of the African Times—he was stationed in Cape Town, and didn’t like some of the things he saw. He heard about this ridiculous talent I had, and next thing I knew, he was pleading with my father to let me work with him. I know for a fact that there are men in this world who will allow a woman her interests.”

“True. But would they adore you for yours? Where others see numbers and charts, you see a universe, vast and mighty. You can see the face of the cosmos in a few dancing lights. You shouldn’t have to trade the stars in the sky for a home and a marriage and babies.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“I admit,” he said, “it took me longer than one look at dinner. It took me five or six looks. But then, I cannot see five trillion miles away.”

Her heart was pounding heavily. “Mr. Shaughnessy.”

“I’m a clever fellow,” he went on. “I know I’m not your heart’s desire. I’m too outrageous, too frivolous to be the sort of man you dream about.”

She couldn’t speak. She didn’t dare tell him what she truly longed for. If she did, he’d use it against her.

Mrs. Barnstable, oblivious to this entire exchange, pulled the last page from her machine. “Miss Sweetly, I’m just running these down to Dr. Barnstable, if that’s all right with you.”

No. Rose needed to say no. She couldn’t be alone with Mr. Shaughnessy, not even for so much as a minute. Especially not now.

“Of course, Mrs. Barnstable,” she heard herself say.

“I know I’m not your heart’s desire,” he said again in a low voice as soon as Mrs. Barnstable had quitted the room, “but I can still give you yours.”

She looked up. “What do you know of my heart’s desire?”

Looking into his eyes was a mistake. He gave her a smile—not a low, cunning smile, or a clever smile that hinted at seduction. It was a warm, welcoming smile—the sort that made her think she had come home.

“I know what you want. It shows.”

She wanted him, impossible rake that he was. She wanted him in love with her, faithful to her. Even she knew that was too much to ask.

“It shows?” she asked in a low voice.

“It does.” He gave her a duck of his head. “Miss Sweetly, I beg of you—that you will accept from me this one thing.”

Her heart pounded.

He stood. She looked wildly around the room—but with Mrs. Barnstable gone, there was no one to see. Nobody would see him coming toward her. Nobody would detect the look in his eye, that bright light that froze her in her seat.

He got on one knee before her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t imagine what to say or how to say it. He wouldn’t really ask her to marry him—not now, ever, and even if he did, surely he wouldn’t mean it. Men promised things to women like her all the time, and never meant a word they said.

But the thing he took from his pocket was not a ring. It was a bit of card stock, printed with a decorative border. He handed it to her; she took it. Stamped on the front were the words Admit One. Beneath that, there was only an address.

“What is this?” she asked in confusion.

“That?” He smiled smugly, as if he had just done something very clever. “That is your heart’s desire, Miss Sweetly: a ticket to the best viewing in all of Greenwich of the transit of Venus. Courtesy of… Well, that would be me.”

If anyone had asked Rose about the things she wanted, watching the transit of Venus would assuredly have been on her list. Not the first item there, nor the second…but high on the list nonetheless.

But it wasn’t the thought of astronomy that had her breath catching in her lungs. It was that he’d obtained this as a present. It was the most thoughtful gift she’d ever received. And he’d been the one to think of it.

“It’s a very exclusive viewing,” he said, “from one of the highest points in Greenwich itself. There will be a great many steps up, and there won’t be a fire in the viewing room for warmth, so take that into account when dressing.”

There was one thing wrong with this. “People will talk if I arrive at an event like this with you.”

“Ah.” His eyes glittered. “It’s a very exclusive gathering. I assure you, nobody will speak of you. Nobody at all. As for me? I promise not to importune you.”

Watching the transit of Venus with a handful of people she didn’t know would be interesting. Delightful, even. But her heart’s desire, even if it was only for an afternoon…

…was to have him truly care for her. It might be temporary. It might be foolish. But if he’d gone to this length, she was more than a whim to him.

He’s seducing you, she told herself.

Just this much, she pleaded in return. Just this far, and after that, I’ll venture no further.