Page 18 of Map of a Lady's Heart
He recoiled as if struck. “I didn’t mean it’s a loss to stay home.”
“And I didn’t mean it’s an indulgence to travel.” She hesitated. “Lord Newton is young. Life seems to pass so slowly when you’re young. You feel you will go mad if you can’t escape the ordinary drudgery of home and family. It’s only when you’re a bit older that you realize how easy it is to lose those things, sometimes without noticing until it’s too late.
“I expect he’s told everyone you’re impatient to be gone becausehewould like to explore the world—at least a bit of it beyond England’s shores—and because of his father’s death he cannot. He sees you as free to do as you please, and if he were free to do as he pleased, he would be on the first packet to France.” She stopped at his expression. “That is only my guess at his feelings.”
“No,” he said slowly, still staring at her. “No, I believe you’re correct.”
Viola felt her face heat. “You know him much better than I—”
“I doubt it.” Winterton’s eyes were piercing. “I’ve only seen him a dozen times since he was a boy.”
“Well.” It was astonishing how flustered she felt, just from him looking at her. “Perhaps you’ll become better acquainted with his thoughts and feelings during this visit.” She chewed her lip and changed the subject. “A large book. Perhaps an atlas would do?”
He tensed. “Pardon?”
“An atlas. Bridget said it must be a large book, and an atlas is the largest book I can think of.” She went to the bookcase and surveyed the selection behind the finely carved wooden screen. “Perhaps this one. It’s large and looks impressive.” She pulled it from the shelf and opened it on the wide table.
The earl stepped up beside her. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“It’s Cellarius’sHarmonia Macrocosmica, and shouldn’t be trusted to Lady Bridget’s farce. I’m astonished Wessex keeps it here among the other books.”
Viola gaped as he took the book and turned gently through a few pages. His face was bright and sharp with interest. “This is one of the most beautiful examples of celestial cartography in the world. Look—” He laid one page in front of her. “The northern sky.”
It was a beautifully illustrated page, in vivid colors with constellation figures sketched over a background of stars. “It is lovely,” Viola whispered in awe. “I’d no idea it was particularly valuable.”
“I suppose not everyone would think so.” He closed the book reverently and put it back on the shelf. “Is Wessex a collector?”
“I’m not privy to that. The duchess has a fondness for maps, but I’ve never heard her speak of the stars.”
Winterton went still, as if startled. “Maps?”
Viola smiled. “Yes.” Before her marriage, the duchess had owned a prosperous draper’s shop in Melchester, and she’d stocked a good number of exotic fabrics from around the world. Viola had seen the map that used to hang in the shop offices, with pins pressed into the countries where she got her fabrics: fine cottons from America and India, silk from China, jacquard from France. Now that she was mistress of Kingstag, someone else ran the shop, but she still took an interest in it.
“I also have a fondness for maps.” Winterton turned around, his head cocked curiously. “I’ve never met a duchess who shared it. Does she collect them?”
“Do you?” Viola asked brightly. On no account would she discuss the duchess’s personal interests with him. “I suppose you must, on your travels.”
“I do have a number of them,” he admitted with a grin. “Atlases and maps are marvels—an entire worldview contained in one page or one book. I have an atlas of the world that doesn’t include any hint of America, because it wasn’t known. Another ancient map is centered about Jerusalem, per the church’s preference. And others—such as this Cellarius—are maps of things we can never possibly visit.”
“Yes,” she murmured, struck by his enthusiasm. “But you would like to.”
“To visit the stars? No.” His gaze grew distant. “But they are a traveler’s dearest companion. The same stars that shine above home in England also shine above the Indies, the Americas, and China. Every sailor learns to chart his way using them as a guide. In that respect, a map of the stars is more valuable than any map of the land.”
Viola couldn’t stop a small wistful sigh. She was perfectly happy here in England—mostly—usually—but the excitement in the earl’s face as he spoke of sailing the seas and seeing exotic lands and people did plant a tiny seed of envy in her heart. Just to have the chance to go on such a journey would be incredible.
But she did not have that chance, and probably never would.
“You find the prospect appealing,” said the earl, his gaze returning to her with keen discernment.
“A little,” she allowed. “Well—yes, I do. Perhaps not to travel all the way to China, but to see Paris, or Venice, or some of the mountains in Switzerland...yes,it does sound thrilling.” She turned back to the shelves to break the moment.Do not be tempted by a wealthy earl’s questions,she told herself. “What would you suggest we give Bridget, if none of these are suitable to being props?”
The earl turned to the bookcase. “Are these all the atlases at Kingstag?”
“Yes.” Too late Viola remembered that the duke had bought another recently as a gift for the duchess. It was a finely bound atlas, with all the trading routes around the globe marked, and the duke thought his wife would be charmed by the drawings and engravings of items from far-off lands. It mirrored the map she had kept of where her goods came from.
But that was to be the duchess’s Christmas gift, and as such could not possibly be flaunted in Bridget’s play. Viola had been sworn to secrecy by Wessex, who was quite pleased with himself for thinking of something so unusual for his wife.
