An Illicit Indiscretion

An Illicit Indiscretion
Bronwyn Scott

London, 1835 Dashiell Steen, heir to the Earl of Heathridge, is tired of boring dinner parties and matchmaking mamas. He craves one final adventure before he’s forced to settle down—and finds it with a vivacious beauty escaping from a manor window!Elisabeth Becket’s intelligence and rebellious sprit excite both his mind and his body, stirring a mutual attraction (desire) that neither can resist. But will their illicit encounter last when Elisabeth discovers Dashiell is the unwanted suitor she was trying to escape?

An Illicit Indiscretion

Bronwyn Scott

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

London, 1835

Dashiell Steen, heir to the Earl of Heathridge, is tired of boring dinner parties and matchmaking mamas. He craves one final adventure before he’s forced to settle down—and finds it with a vivacious beauty escaping from a manor window! Elisabeth Becket’s intelligence and rebellious sprit excite both his mind and his body, stirring a mutual attraction that neither can resist. But will their illicit encounter last when she discovers Dashiell is the unwanted suitor she was trying to escape?

Dear Reader,

Merry Christmas! I hope you love Elisabeth and Dashiell’s story. It’s a Christmas story in that it’s a tale of the things we associate with the season; hope and faith and love. Elisabeth gambles everything on her faith that the comet will be there and that her freedom is worth fighting for. Dashiell takes the biggest leap of faith of all in his search for love.

Their story is set around the 1835 return of Halley’s Comet. This return is significant because it is the third consecutive sighting of the comet using Newton and Halley’s calculations for determining its cyclical appearance, proving the reliability for the formula. Halley’s Comet has long been associated with the Christmas Season. Its 1758 return was confirmed Christmas night, 1758 and there’s been long speculation that the comet was the Christmas ‘star’ seen by the Three Wiseman, although that is highly debatable. Many scientists argue the comet’s return would have been twelve years too early to coincide the birth of Christ.

I do need to take a moment and share information about my resources. First, I found a great article from the Manchester Guardian, dated Sept. 1835 and written by a citizen concerning the best way to view the comet. He reported that he had only a mediocre Dolland telescope for viewing. He also reported in the article, the best viewing times and where in the galaxy to spot the comet. I used that information in Elisabeth’s December sightings, even though the position of stars would have shifted between August and December.

The comet did pass perihelion on November 16

and it was lost to the eye for a time. It was ‘re-sighted’ in early January according to some records. This means, Elisabeth’s spotting of it in December is fictionalized by a week or two.

Comet pins were indeed a big rage that year so it was fitting that Dashiell give Elisabeth a comet pin as a gift. I found some lovely pictures of the jewelry on-line.

The advancements made in refractory lenses by 1835 made the study of comets quite scientific. The 1835 sighting allowed for the gathering data until then unknown.

England’s great astronomer, John Hershel, did set up ‘shop’ at the Cape for the duration and regularly reported a stream of visitors coming to take tea and see the comet.

Lastly, in terms of women astronomy, they were few and far between. But there were some. Elisabeth wouldn’t have been an anomaly. For instance, the first woman to discover a comet was Caroline Herschel in 1786 (she was the daughter of the man who discovered the planet, Uranus).

There’s so much more to say, but I’ll leave it at this: Merry Christmas, embrace your dreams.

Stop by my blog for holiday fun at www.bronwynswriting.blogspot.com

See you out there!

Bronwyn

Merry Christmas to my three wonders; Ro, Catie and Bronwyn. Your mom loves you. May your joys in life number the stars.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

London, December 20, 1835

Escaping from one’s room was more difficult in practice than it was in theory. Elisabeth Becket straddled the window-sill of her second storey chamber dressed in a purloined pair of trousers and gingerly felt for a foothold on the trellis just below. She lowered herself out of the window, but not without a healthy dose of trepidation. Her room was exceedingly farther from the ground at this vantage point than it had been that afternoon looking up from the garden. There was a reason people used doors.

But conventional exits wouldn’t help her tonight. Using a door would mean going downstairs to her mother’s dinner party and it would mean meeting the Earl of Heathridge’s heir, who was bound to be as stuffy and traditional as all the other eligible young men she had met in London. She might be the daughter of a politically ambitious viscount, but she was most definitely not traditional. Going out the window proved it.

The thought sustained her for the first third of the way down the trellis.

Her mother would be furious. That particular thought almost made her climb back up. Elisabeth could practically hear her mother’s voice now: What was she doing sneaking off in the dark unchaperoned? London was too dangerous for any woman, but especially for Elisabeth with her head in the clouds. She was not cut out for the real world.

That was where her mother was wrong. She could handle herself if her parents would only give her a chance. She would show them she wasn’t all books and astronomical charts. That thought kept her going the second third.

Thoughts of her mission kept her going the last third. She wasn’t stealing out of her window on a lark, or even for the simple exercising of her freedom. She had more sense than that. A girl didn’t risk her reputation on a whim. She was going to see a once-in-a-lifetime astronomical phenomenon. The comet was on a seventy-six-year orbit. There was no question of waiting. She’d be a hundred when it returned; far too old to be climbing out windows not to mention most likely dead.

Elisabeth took another backwards step on the trellis but didn’t complete it. Her foot met with nothing. She dangled it in the air searching for a hold or for the bottom. Was she there already? She hazarded a downward glance. But in the dark, she couldn’t be certain. Surely the ground was around here somewhere. In the daylight, the gap between the ground and the trellis had seemed minimal as if she could simply step off the trellis with a giant step. There was nothing for it. She couldn’t just stay on the trellis. She’d have to drop.

It was official, Dashiell Steen concluded. He was going to go round the bend if he stayed in the viscount’s drawing room a moment longer. Since he was rather fond of his mind, he’d opted for a breath of fresh air in the garden regardless that it was dark and winter. There wouldn’t be anything to see that one usually expected to see in a garden, like plants.

Dashiell didn’t care if the garden turned out to be weed-choked. He only cared that it was an escape. It didn’t have to be an especially pretty escape at that. He’d only come tonight because his uncle had demanded it. In fact, his uncle had demanded quite a lot in the last few months since Dashiell had become his heir. Dashiell was tired of it and the hypocrisy that followed.

Six months ago, matchmaking mamas hadn’t exactly lined their daughters up to dance with him. His good looks and lack of personal fortune made him persona non grata in that department. Mamas were fearful he’d charm their daughters right into genteel poverty with him. Everyone knew his father was a second son with a mid-rate military career behind him. But then his uncle had come along; heirless after twenty years of marriage, approaching sixty and finally facing facts. He suddenly had need of his nephew. Enough said.

Apparently the prospect of inheriting an earldom guaranteed a man a full dance card and respectability, while erasing a past littered with actresses and opera singers. It also guaranteed a life full of stolid dinner parties that threatened to stifle him. The price of respectability was uncommonly high.

The debacle going on inside Viscount Graybourne’s drawing room right this very moment was a case in point. No, ‘debacle’ wasn’t the right descriptor. It was a farce, a comedy of errors, or in his case, a comedy of heirs. His uncle had an heir to marry off in exchange for a dowry that would cover the earldom’s debt. Graybourne had a daughter who’d been on the marriage mart for four Seasons without success.