Mistress - Amanda Quick [65]
“Oh, no, not in the least,” she assured him. “As it happens, the ancients were very concerned with studies of the heavens. Indeed, the very stars and planets are named after the heroes and heroines of antiquity.”
“True.”
“Tell me, what do you hope to learn from an investigation of starlight?”
“I’m not certain.” Marcus shrugged. “But something Mr. William Herschel wrote a couple of years ago intrigued me greatly.”
“What was it?”
Marcus reached out, took her hand, and led her toward the wide stone steps that descended into the gardens. “He pointed out that in some sense when we look at the stars we are looking into the past.”
“I do not understand.”
“The light from the stars takes thousands of years to reach us, by all modern calculations.”
“Yes, of course. I see what you mean. The light we see must have been originally emitted eons ago,” Iphiginia whispered. “I never thought of it in that fashion. What a fascinating notion.”
“I find it so.” Marcus smiled at her. “But I have learned that few people outside of a small group who are interested in such matters care to listen to a detailed conversation on the topic.”
“I understand.” Iphiginia savored the feel of his big hand wrapped around her own smaller fingers. She felt as though she and Marcus were linked together mentally as well as physically tonight. It was good to know that he no longer suspected her of blackmail. “I have often been accused of being something of a bore myself, sir.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“Oh, but it’s true. I’m afraid I was obliged to live a very quiet life until last year.”
“Due to your husband’s age and infirmities, I expect.”
“Uh, yes. Mr. Bright did not get out much.”
“And therefore, neither did you.”
“No.”
“Tell me something, Iphiginia,” Marcus said very softly. “Were you faithful to your Mr. Bright?”
Iphiginia gasped and somehow managed to stumble over a small stone buried in the grass. “What a ridiculous question, my lord.”
He steadied her. “What is so strange about it? You have been in Society long enough to know that faithful wives are few and far between.”
“From what I have observed, the number of unfaithful wives is exceeded only by the number of unfaithful husbands,” Iphiginia retorted.
“I suppose that is true.”
Having won the point and neatly changed the topic in the process, Iphiginia grew suddenly more daring. “Were you a faithful husband, my lord?”
Marcus was silent for a moment. “I have a rule against discussing my past. Most particularly, I do not discuss my marriage.”
The rebuff chilled Iphiginia. “Yes, of course. How could I forget your infamous rules? Tell me, do you enjoy living by such rigid rules, sir?”
“They have served me well.”
“Life is short,” Iphiginia whispered. “I find that too many rules can make one’s existence seem very dull and confined.”
“I find that they protect one’s privacy.”
“But one misses out on so much of life’s excitement when one lives by the overly strict rules of Society,” Iphiginia protested.
“I do not live by Society’s rules, Iphiginia. I live by my own.”
They wandered into a more heavily wooded portion of the extensive Pettigrew gardens. The lights of the big house were far behind them now. When Iphiginia glanced over her shoulder, she realized she could not even see the stately home any longer. A stand of trees stood in the way.
The night was lit only by starlight and the glow of the nearly full moon.
“It is as if we were alone in the world,” Iphiginia said.
“A very pleasant sensation.” Marcus glanced at a large structure looming in a nearby grove. “What have we here?”
Iphiginia saw the tall, elegant columns of the Temple of Vesta. “That is the ruin. I finished my measurements of it this afternoon while you were in Pettigrew’s library. By the bye, did you discover anything of interest there?”
“No. Pettigrew uses red wax. There was no sign of any black wax in his jack and his seal bears the emblem of a hart.”
“How very disappointing. Did you examine his desk with great care?”
“Yes, I did. Trust me, Pettigrew is not the blackmailer.” Marcus changed course