a few other villages, and then only London for exotic sights.”
That rather perfectly described Viola’s own life. “How very fortunate that you were able to see more.” She opened the doors of the library. Bridget had completed most of her play, so everyone was off rehearsing in other rooms. The library was quiet and empty.
“I do feel fortunate.” The earl went to the French windows, opened the drapes, and gazed out at the snow. The wind had died, and the view was dazzling. “Those who have the means and the ability and the desire to travel ought to do so, to bring those far corners of the world home to those who stay.”
“So it’s your duty?” She smiled to take the sting off the words, but he still shot her a sharp glance. Viola put up her hands. “I don’t judge, my lord. You have the means and the desire; therefore it’s entirely your choice whether you stay or not.”
“Wouldn’t you go, if you could?”
Her smile turned wistful. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Everyone dear to me is here in England. It hasn’t felt like a great loss to remain home.”
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 because he would 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’s Harmonia 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.