Tonight it was charades, which was perfectly acceptable. Viola settled at the side of the room and watched in amusement. As usual, Bridget’s riddle was ridiculous and took a very long time to guess. When Serena finally called out “chalk figures for dancing” and Bridget nodded, a small cheer went up.
“I wondered if anyone would ever solve it,” said a voice beside her.
Viola glanced at Lord Winterton. “Someone always does,” she assured him. “Lady Serena knows her sister well.”
They both turned to watch Serena, taking her place at the front of the room and pondering her riddle. She looked happier, Viola realized. The grave quiet air she’d worn for weeks after her engagement ended had vanished, and when she smiled at something Miss Penworth said in jest, it was open and warm. It brought a small curve to Viola’s own lips; all three Cavendish girls had become like younger sisters to her, and she took their sorrows and joys very much to heart.
“I heard she was recently disappointed in love.” Winterton sat on the settee beside her, his voice low enough no one else could hear. “She seems to be recovering.”
“Happily, she does.”
The earl glanced at her. “I heard the cruel young man was even invited to this party.”
Bridget, Viola reflected, had no discretion at all. “He’s not cruel,” she murmured in reply. “He’s young.” Young, handsome, and a very dashing duke. She didn’t know why the Duke of Frye had ended his engagement, but she couldn’t believe he’d done it to be cruel to Serena. Their families had been close for ages. And Serena didn’t look very brokenhearted anymore . . .
“Is there no chance of reconciliation?”
Winterton’s question startled her. “Oh! I’m sure I don’t know. But Frye hasn’t arrived, as you can see, so at the moment I rate it very low odds. He can never be forgiven if he never comes to beg forgiveness.”
He grinned. “Nor should he be.” For a moment they watched as Serena delivered her riddle. “Do you have an interest in the stars, Mrs. Cavendish?”
Viola blinked. “Stars in the sky?”
“Yes.”
“A little.” It made her think of Stephen. She had to blink back a sudden tear at the thought of her brother.
“Come with me,” the earl said. “It’s terribly cold, but the sky is beautiful. I thought you might like to see it.”
Her lips parted in surprise. And delight. After all, her brother might be looking at the same stars tonight. It was two days before Christmas, and it was the closest thing to sharing it with him she might have. “All right,” she said.
She cast one glance over the room as they slipped out. Everyone was absorbed in charades. Sophronia was watching from her usual chair near the hearth, and there was a great deal of mirth and laughter. A little devil on her shoulder whispered that no one would miss her for a few minutes.
Viola followed the earl to the doors at the back of the hall. In the summer they often stood open, presenting a beautiful vista over the gardens, bowling green, and the ancient oaks that lined the road to the stables. Tonight all those sights were covered in piles of snow, and the raw air made her eyes water as they stepped out. She clasped her arms around herself and stayed close to the door, sheltered from the wind.
“It’s a bit cold,” said the earl sympathetically, looking unaffected by the temperature himself. “But look.” He raised his arm and swept one hand across the skies.
She put back her head and gasped. It had been snowing heavily all evening, but now it almost looked like a hole had opened in the sky. Clouds still ringed the horizon and hovered over the tops of the trees, but directly above them was a jeweled canopy of stars, sparkling against the black velvet of the night.
“There is Polaris,” said the earl, pointing. “And there is Sirius.” He pointed toward the far left horizon.
“Goodness,” breathed Viola. “You can see everything! There—look—the Cork Nebula lies there!” In excitement she pointed as well.
Winterton looked at her in amazement. “The Cork Nebula! How do you know that?”
“My brother is studying mathematics and astronomy at Cambridge,” she said, still gazing raptly at the stars. “The Cork Nebula is at the heart of Perseus. There is Pegasus, and Lyra, and—oh—such a beautiful view of Vega!”
The earl’s eyes moved back to the sky. “I have no idea which stars are in Pegasus,” he said after a moment. “I only know a few points of navigation.”
“That’s not even one star in a thousand,” said Viola with a laugh.
“What else do you see?” He stepped closer, until their shoulders were touching. Viola felt the warmth of him beside her like a roaring fire.
Stars. She focused on the sky and pointed east. “There is Pollux.” It was easy to find, nice and bright. “And there south of it is the belt of Orion. The Spanish call them Las Tres Marias. The ones in asterisms are easier to find.”
“Marvelous,” murmured the earl, his head tipped back, giving her a perfect view of his profile.
“Stephen would have spent every night outside, pointing them out to me. Our mother made him come inside, and he would sleep under an open window, even in the dead of winter.” She smiled in memory.
“Mathematics and astronomy. How impressive.”
She nodded. “Stephen’s brilliant. I wouldn’t be at all astonished if his name is as famous as Mr. Herschel’s some day.”
The earl was staring at her. “I’d no idea you had a brother, Mrs. Cavendish.”
“Only one, younger.” She raised her brows in fun. “Ought you to know all my family?”
He laughed ruefully. “Forgive me. Of course not. I have inflicted my family on you, and that really should be enough.”
“Inflicted! Lord Newton is hardly that bad . . .” She paused at his expression. “Perhaps writing a painful death for you as king was a bit much.”
He snorted. “What is your brother like?”
“Brilliantly clever,” she said at once. “We knew from the time he was six that he should go to Cambridge. My father was a sea captain, and he taught Stephen how to navigate by the stars.”
“A sea captain! And you never had the desire to go away?” The earl clasped his hands behind him and studied her with interest.
She smiled wistfully. “I never had the chance! Females, I was told, are not very welcome on ships . . . But Stephen went on a few journeys with him, where he noticed nothing but the stars overhead. Once my father showed him how to use the sextant—well! My brother barely pays attention to anything on earth now when an idea seizes him. His passions are stars and nebulae and planets, how they move and how they change appearance, and how he might possibly improve his telescope so that he can see them better. When he’s working on a calculation, he forgets to speak to anyone, to eat, even to sleep.”
Winterton shook his head in amazement. “I always admired those fellows at university.”
“I can’t even imagine an entire college of them,” she said honestly. “Stephen alone amazes me.”
Winterton chuckled. “I doubt one chap in ten at Cambridge works that hard at his studies as all that. But here—you’re shivering.”
Viola realized she was. “We’d better go back inside.”
He opened the door and touched her back lightly as she went back in. Viola felt that touch through all the layers of cloth between them. Do not make anything of it, she told herself. “Thank you,” she told the earl as he bolted the door behind them. “For showing me the sky.”
“It may be snowing again by morning.”
“I know.” Viola smiled. “But it was beautiful for that moment.”
His blue gaze felt like a caress on her face. “Yes. Very beautiful.” She flushed with pleasure, as if he’d paid her a great compliment. He reached up and gently brushed a few flakes of melting snow from her hair. “Like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright . . .”
Kiss me, she thought, feeling herself falling into his
mesmerizing eyes. Viola stopped breathing as the force of the thought hit her. “Marlowe?” she asked breathlessly, trying to jolt herself out of it.
“Byron, I believe.” He fingered a loose curl of her hair, studying it for a moment before smoothing it behind her ear. “We could check, in the library.”
The library would be dark and deserted and private now. Anything might happen there, just between the two of them. She should go back to the charades, remember her duty, and not let poetry and starlight go to her head. Slowly she nodded. “Yes. Yes, we could.”
Something shifted in his focus. He knew what she meant. He offered his arm.
Do not be stupid, Viola told herself. But she put her hand on his arm and went with him.
Chapter 7
Wes’s pulse seemed to be pounding against every inch of his skin. Her hand was on his arm, and her eyes were glowing like emeralds, and he’d never seen anyone more beautiful than Viola Cavendish, standing in the frigid night, head thrown back to gaze at the stars. Her lips had parted in wonder, and Wes had nearly kissed her right then and there.
It was all he could think about now. That, and her hand on his arm as she went with him on the most specious errand ever invented. He knew very well it was Byron’s poetry he quoted, but for a half hour alone with her, he’d happily check every book of poetry from Marlowe, Jonson, and Shakespeare. If they weren’t distracted before locating the poetry books, that is . . .
They reached the tall double doors of the library. She picked up a lamp from a nearby table as Wes reached for the doorknob.
But a lamp already burned inside, on the desk by the near hearth. The two people in the room looked up, startled, and in a flurry of movement flew apart.
Not, though, before Wes saw who they were and what they were doing. Lady Alexandra was frantically smoothing her dress back into place. Justin ran one hand through his disheveled hair, but seemed to realize it was hopeless. His jacket was off, his cravat was askew, and he gave Wes a glance that was half sheepish, half defiant.
Wes shut the door with a bang.
“Uncle, let me explain,” began Justin.
“Close your mouth,” said Wes in a deadly soft tone. “I will speak to you later. Lady Alexandra, are you hurt?”
Her flush was visible even in the low light. “Not at all, sir.”
“What is going on?” Mrs. Cavendish finally found her voice.
Lady Alexandra looked frozen. Justin cleared his throat. “It was not nearly as bad as it looked.”
“No?” Mrs. Cavendish turned a frigid gaze on him. “What was it, then?”
Justin opened his mouth, seemed to realize the problem, and closed his mouth.
“It was only a kiss,” said Lady Alexandra in a quavering voice. “Just a little one.”
Mrs. Cavendish looked pointedly at Justin’s white shirtsleeves. They must have been alone here for some time. Wes could have smacked himself for not paying more attention to Justin’s interest in the girl. How long ago had they snuck away from the party in the drawing room? Alexandra had been sitting on the desk, Justin’s hand on her knee—thankfully on top of her skirts—and her arms around his neck. It probably had only been a bit of kissing, but Lady Alexandra was the daughter of a duke, a young lady who was expected to make a very good marriage and have a spotless reputation.
And if that reputation became tarnished and stained by Wes’s feckless nephew, there would be hell to pay.
“I hope your mother Her Grace agrees,” Mrs. Cavendish told Lady Alexandra.
Alexandra shot her an agonized look, but nodded. Viola reached for her arm and drew her firmly toward the door.
“Mrs. Cavendish . . .” Justin’s voice was hesitant. “Truly it was my fault. I asked her to come away from the party . . . Blame me.”
“I do, sir,” she said bluntly. “But it is not my response you need to be concerned about.” She swept Alexandra out the door.
A full minute of silence reigned in the library. Justin didn’t seem to know where to look. Wes counted to ten to save his temper from erupting. “What the devil?”
He must have mastered himself better than he thought, because a slight smile crossed Justin’s face. “She’s very pretty.”
Wes stared at him stonily.
“She’s great fun too.”
Wes maintained his stare.
Justin began to wilt. “It was naught but a little kiss.”
“Don’t you ever say that to me again!” Anger finally boiled over. Justin flinched as Wes advanced on him in a fury. “Go to your room and stay there. Do not speak to anyone. Do not ring for a servant to remove your boots. Do not do anything but sit quietly in your room. If I can’t trust you to do that, we leave tomorrow morning even if we must climb through snowbanks higher than our heads, carrying our baggage. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Uncle,” Justin muttered.
Wes continued to glare at him. “I will attempt to smooth things over as much as possible. If you leave your room before I come speak to you, I shall find a switch and thrash you like the boy you clearly still are.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Justin whispered.
Wes grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair and flung it at him. “Go.”
Justin’s ears were red as he tugged his jacket back on and ducked out of the room.
Wes paced for a few minutes. Bloody hell. Was that boy’s head completely empty? What was he thinking?
He had to stop himself there. Of course he knew what was in Justin’s head; much the same desire had been beating away at Wes’s own brain. If not for Justin, he might be kissing Viola Cavendish right now . . .
But that was a totally different situation, he argued to himself. He was not a green boy and she was not an innocent young lady. They both knew what they were doing. If he kissed her, if she kissed him, it would be because they both wanted it . . .
He sighed. It didn’t really matter. And he suspected that how he handled Justin’s indiscretion would have a large impact on whether he’d ever get another chance with Viola.
* * *
Viola kept a firm grip on Alexandra’s arm as she hurried down the corridor toward the dowager’s apartment. The only way for Alexandra to head off any trouble over the kiss was to confess it immediately to her mother, before a careless comment or whisper could blow the whole thing out of proportion. Viola also hoped the experience would leave a lasting impression on the girl and prevent her from doing it again.
“Viola, I’m sorry.” Now Alexandra was full of contrition. “But it was only a little kiss! Nothing more. Surely you don’t think I’d forget myself enough to do worse.”
“I don’t know anything. You slipped away with a man and went into the dark library, which looks very guilty. Girls have been ruined for doing that.”
“Ruined! It was nothing!”
Viola stopped. “A little kiss is nothing. But what would have come next?”
Alexandra blinked. “Nothing! Newton would never—”
“Perhaps not, but you don’t know him well enough to be certain of that. I would hate to see you make a terrible mistake next time.”
Alexandra flushed from her neckline to her ears. “Next time?”
“If you can do it once, you can do it again. The next time a handsome man whispers pretty words in your ear and begs you to sneak out with him, you’ll be more likely to go. After all, you got away with it before and bore no consequences.” Viola raised her brows at Alexandra’s shocked expression. “Don’t tell me it’s impossible. In London there will be many handsome men wanting to dance with you and kiss you, and some of them will not have restraint or honor.”
“But I never have a chance to do anything!” the girl protested, tears thickening her voice. “I’m always behind Serena, waiting for her to find a husband. Well, now she’s been jilted and I’m still waiting. All the gentlemen look at her first—next spring even Bridget will be out with me, and I shall just be the Cavendish sister in the middle. I’ll end up like Aunt Sophronia
—”
Viola rolled her eyes. “Only if you wish to.”
“Newton’s very handsome! And eligible! Don’t you think Gareth would approve of him, if he knew?” she argued.
“If he knew,” repeated Viola with meaning. “I shan’t speculate on what your brother might do or say, if he knew, since neither you nor Lord Newton took the time or trouble to seek his approval before sneaking off for a bit of kissing. What do you think he’d say now?”
Alexandra bit her lip. “I shall explain to Mama. Mama will understand.”
“I hope so.” Viola was relieved that Alexandra had grasped the import of this moment. If the dowager could see that it was a harmless kiss, nothing much would come of it. No one else had seen anything, and even if the other guests had noticed Newton and Alexandra leaving together, that was proof of nothing. Viola could even say she had been with them, if it came down to it.
Of course, if the dowager grew upset that her daughter had been able to sneak off with a gentleman, there was one person to blame for failing to chaperone her: Viola.
They had reached the dowager duchess’s suite of rooms now. Viola put her hands on the girl’s shoulders and gave her a firm squeeze. “Chin up. Your mother was once a young woman, hoping to fall in love, flattered by a handsome young man’s attentions. She will surely understand what you’re feeling. But that’s no excuse to be foolish, and risk your reputation for a few moments of excitement. And don’t blame Lord Newton; unless he carried you off to the library against your will, you are as much to blame as he. You are a young woman now, Alexandra, and must take responsibility for your own actions. Be honest and true with your mother, and I have faith she’ll treat you fairly.”
The girl stared at her with dark, worried eyes. “Isn’t it monstrously unfair that such a trifling thing could cause such trouble?”
Yes. Viola felt uncomfortably aware of all the impure thoughts she had had about the Earl of Winterton recently, and how easily she could have been the one caught kissing in the library. He found her attractive; she sensed that if she gave him any sign, he would kiss her. Perhaps do more. Perhaps she had even agreed to go to the library with him because she knew he wanted to kiss her, and she wanted him to do it.
Map of a Lady’s Heart Page 8