Sheikh's Mail-Order Bride. Marguerite Kaye
‘The study of the cosmos, the stars and the planets,’ Constance elaborated.
‘You are an astronomer?’
‘You seem astonished. Is it because I have a passion for studying the night sky, or is because I am a woman with a passion for stargazing?’ Constance turned away, absurdly disappointed. ‘My father too, finds it inexplicable. He can see no practical purpose to it, and if there is no prospect of him profiting from something he is utterly uninterested.’
‘I don’t think it’s inexplicable, and I most certainly do not think the fact that you are a woman should disbar you from scientific study. Quite the contrary. It is to your credit and to be commended.’
‘Oh.’ She turned back to face him, her cheeks hot once again. ‘I’m terribly sorry. You sounded so— And then I assumed— And I ought not to have— Only my father— And I should not have spoken to you as I did, but I keep forgetting that you are a prince. I mean I don’t forget, exactly, especially not when you give me that assessing look and I wish that I was thinking something a little more interesting for you to assess, but I fear that you would think my mind rather boring if you could read it, which you can’t, obviously, though truly you do give one the impression that you can, and—and—oh, dear, that is another thing you do. Those silences. They make me want to fill them, and I start babbling and here I am, doing it again.’
Her face, she was sure, was bright scarlet. ‘You’re probably now wishing there was a ship for Bombay due tomorrow after all,’ Constance said, once again failing to keep to her resolve to stop talking.
‘Actually, quite the reverse. I was thinking that I have the perfect solution to occupy you for the three months you will be here.’
‘Ah, you have a vacancy for a court jester?’
Smiling faintly, the Prince took her hand, leading her over to the covered object which stood in the middle of the terrace. ‘Lady Constance,’ he said, tugging at the knot which held the tarpaulin in place, ‘I have no need of a court jester, but I do have a vacancy for a court astronomer.’
* * *
Kadar pulled the tarpaulin away, and Lady Constance’s mouth fell open. ‘A telescope! And such a telescope!’ She ran her hands along the polished wooden barrel. She touched the little stool which was contained in the instrument’s mounting box. She stroked her fingers along the system of pulleys and the brass handle which allowed the unwieldy tube of the telescope to pivot and rotate on its axis. She peered into the eyepiece. Finally, she ran her hands once more along the barrel. ‘I have never seen anything so beautiful,’ she said, her voice hushed with awe. ‘How did you come by such a sophisticated instrument?’
She was staring at it as if it were made of gold. ‘I share your passion for studying the stars. You have no idea how rare it is to meet a fellow astronomer. This particular instrument is a seven-foot reflector,’ Kadar said. ‘It was built in Mr Herschel’s workshop. I purchased it five years ago, when I spent some time at Oxford. It has travelled with me ever since.’
‘This actually comes from William Herschel’s own workshop?’ Her big brown eyes glowed. Her smile was soft, almost tender, as her fingers strayed compulsively to the telescope again. Captivating, he had thought she could be last night, and she was. There was a sensuality in the way she touched the instrument, mingling reverence and passion. And he was once again becoming aroused!
‘I met the great man himself,’ Kadar said, dragging his eyes away. ‘Mr Herschel, I mean. I went to see the forty-foot reflector that he had constructed in Slough. A most impractical instrument, I thought, far too cumbersome to be of much use. Mr Herschel himself admitted as much. He, however, was fascinating. The telescope with which he discovered the new planet is very similar to this one.’
‘Georgium Sidus, he named it, in honour of the King,’ Lady Constance said. ‘I like Uranus much better though, after Urania, the goddess of astronomy. Is it wrong for a court astronomer to confess that she prefers mythology to science as an explanation for the construction of the constellations?’
‘You are a romantic, then?’ Kadar asked, in some surprise.
‘Who can deny the romance of the stars? Aside from my father, that is,’ Lady Constance added wryly. The mention of her parent seemed to visibly deflate her. ‘How long will it take, do you think, for a letter to reach England? I must write to Mama.’
‘Weeks, perhaps a month or so. The securest and quickest route is to send it by way of the Red Sea to Cairo, where it can be handed over to your Consul General. I will ensure it is given priority.’
‘Thank you, once again I am indebted to you. You know, this morning I thought about what you said last night. The fact that I am legally dead, the notion that I could choose to remain so. It was only for a few brief moments, but I did think about it, though I know it would be very wrong of me. It was rather a sobering experience, for the sad fact is that the only person who will be truly mourning me will be Mama, and in a way, she has already mourned my passing. When I sailed, though we neither of us could admit it, it was pretty certain that I’d never see her again.’ She blinked furiously. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, please ignore me. It is not like me to be so morbid. Nor to feel sorry for myself.’
Kadar thought the feeling justified, but could see no point in saying so. ‘Come into the shade of the awning, and let me pour you a cool drink.’
‘I’ve embarrassed you again.’
‘No.’
‘You must think me a very volatile creature, one minute letting my tongue run away with me, the next falling into a swoon over a telescope, and the next bubbling like a—a stream.’
‘I think you are a very brave creature, and a very honourable one.’
‘You do?’
‘Constance—Lady Constance—I never say what I do not mean.’
‘Constance. I like the way you say my name. You make it sound quite exotic, and quite unlike me.’
‘At this moment you look quite exotic but I believe you are very loyal, as your name implies.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Reliable. Dutiful. Why not say dull?’
‘Because that would not be true. Come out of the sun.’ He motioned her to a bundle of cushions, pouring them both a glass of lemon sherbet before sitting opposite her.
She took a long drink. ‘Thank you. And my apologies again. I assure you I am usually perfectly even tempered. Perhaps I have had too much sun. I have certainly taken up too much of your time, Your Highness. I can see that you are very busy,’ she said, waving at his paper-strewn desk.
‘Lady Constance...’
‘Please do just call me Constance. It sounds so much nicer.’
‘Constance. Then you must call me Kadar.’
‘Oh, no, that would be quite wrong.’
‘While we are alone, then. When I am not the Prince, and you are not the Court Astronomer.’
‘I did not take your suggestion seriously. I assumed it was said in jest.’
‘I think it’s an excellent idea.’ Kadar topped her glass of sherbet up. ‘It solves several problems. First and most important, as Court Astronomer, you will have a legitimate role in the palace, so there can be no suggestion of your presence here being open to conjecture. A few months ago, another Englishwoman, a botanist, caused a great deal of speculation when she visited the court in the kingdom of Qaryma. I wish to avoid that.’
‘A female botanist? That sounds interesting. Is this kingdom far away? Do you think I would be able to meet her?’
‘I heard that she has since returned to England,’ Kadar said, wondering fleetingly how his childhood friend, now crowned King of Qaryma, felt about