to go inside, yet she lingered, somehow reluctant to leave the enveloping intimacy of the garden. Clasping her hands lightly behind her back, she gazed up at the stars beginning to twinkle in the night sky. “This is my favorite time of day,” she admitted softly. She glanced sideways at him to see if he was bored with the topic, but he’d turned slightly and was looking up at the sky as if he, too, found something of interest there.
She searched for the Big Dipper and located it. “Look,” she said, nodding toward a particularly bright light in the sky. “There’s Venus. Or is it Jupiter? I’m never completely certain.”
“It’s Jupiter. Over there is Ursa Major.”
Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head, pulling her gaze from the sky and sending him a wry, sideways glance. “It may look like the Great Bear to you and everyone else, but to me all the constellations just look like a big bunch of scattered stars. In the spring I can find Cassiopeia, but not because it looks like a lion to me, and in the autumn I can pick out Arcturus, but how they ever saw an archer in all that clutter is quite beyond my comprehension. Do you suppose there are people up there anywhere?”
He turned his head, regarding her with fascinated amusement. “What do you think?”
“I think there are. In fact, I think it’s rather arrogant to assume that out of all those thousands of stars and planets up there, we are the only ones who exist. It seems as arrogant as the old belief that the earth is the center of the entire universe and everything revolves around us. Although people didn’t exactly thank Galileo for disproving it, did they? Imagine being hauled before the Inquisition and forced to renounce what you absolutely knew – and could prove was right!”
“When did debutantes start studying astronomy?” he asked as Elizabeth stepped over to the bench to retrieve her wineglass.
“I’ve had years and years to read,” she admitted ingenuously. Unaware of the searching intensity of his gaze, she picked up her wineglass and turned back to him. “I really must go inside now and change for the evening.”
He nodded in silence, and Elizabeth started to walk forward and step past him. Then she changed her mind and hesitated, remembering her friends’ wagers and how much they were counting on her. “I have a rather odd request a favor to ask of you,” she said slowly, praying that he felt, as she did, that they’d enjoyed a very brief and very pleasant sort of friendship out there. Smiling uncertainly into his inscrutable eyes, she said, “Could you possibly for reasons I can’t explain . . .” she trailed off, suddenly and acutely embarrassed.
“What is the favor?”
Elizabeth expelled her breath in a rush. “Could you possibly ask me to dance this evening?” He looked neither shocked nor tattered by her bold request and she watched his firmly molded lips form his answer.
“No.”
Elizabeth was mortified and shocked by his refusal, but she was even more stunned by the unmistakable regret she’d heard in his voice and glimpsed on his face. For a long moment she searched his shuttered features, and then the sound of laughing voices from somewhere nearby broke the spell. Trying to retreat from a predicament into which she should never have put herself in the first place, Elizabeth picked up her skirts, intending to leave. Making a conscious effort to keep all emotion from her voice, she said with calm dignity, “Good evening, Mr. Thornton.”
He flipped the cheroot away and nodded. “Good evening, Miss Cameron.” And then he left.
The rest of her friends had gone upstairs to change their gowns for the evening’s dancing, but the moment Elizabeth entered the rooms set aside for them the conversation and laughter stopped abruptly leaving Elizabeth with a fleeting, uneasy feeling that they had been laughing and talking about her.
“Well?” Penelope asked with an expectant laugh. “Don’t keep us in
She searched for the Big Dipper and located it. “Look,” she said, nodding toward a particularly bright light in the sky. “There’s Venus. Or is it Jupiter? I’m never completely certain.”
“It’s Jupiter. Over there is Ursa Major.”
Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head, pulling her gaze from the sky and sending him a wry, sideways glance. “It may look like the Great Bear to you and everyone else, but to me all the constellations just look like a big bunch of scattered stars. In the spring I can find Cassiopeia, but not because it looks like a lion to me, and in the autumn I can pick out Arcturus, but how they ever saw an archer in all that clutter is quite beyond my comprehension. Do you suppose there are people up there anywhere?”
He turned his head, regarding her with fascinated amusement. “What do you think?”
“I think there are. In fact, I think it’s rather arrogant to assume that out of all those thousands of stars and planets up there, we are the only ones who exist. It seems as arrogant as the old belief that the earth is the center of the entire universe and everything revolves around us. Although people didn’t exactly thank Galileo for disproving it, did they? Imagine being hauled before the Inquisition and forced to renounce what you absolutely knew – and could prove was right!”
“When did debutantes start studying astronomy?” he asked as Elizabeth stepped over to the bench to retrieve her wineglass.
“I’ve had years and years to read,” she admitted ingenuously. Unaware of the searching intensity of his gaze, she picked up her wineglass and turned back to him. “I really must go inside now and change for the evening.”
He nodded in silence, and Elizabeth started to walk forward and step past him. Then she changed her mind and hesitated, remembering her friends’ wagers and how much they were counting on her. “I have a rather odd request a favor to ask of you,” she said slowly, praying that he felt, as she did, that they’d enjoyed a very brief and very pleasant sort of friendship out there. Smiling uncertainly into his inscrutable eyes, she said, “Could you possibly for reasons I can’t explain . . .” she trailed off, suddenly and acutely embarrassed.
“What is the favor?”
Elizabeth expelled her breath in a rush. “Could you possibly ask me to dance this evening?” He looked neither shocked nor tattered by her bold request and she watched his firmly molded lips form his answer.
“No.”
Elizabeth was mortified and shocked by his refusal, but she was even more stunned by the unmistakable regret she’d heard in his voice and glimpsed on his face. For a long moment she searched his shuttered features, and then the sound of laughing voices from somewhere nearby broke the spell. Trying to retreat from a predicament into which she should never have put herself in the first place, Elizabeth picked up her skirts, intending to leave. Making a conscious effort to keep all emotion from her voice, she said with calm dignity, “Good evening, Mr. Thornton.”
He flipped the cheroot away and nodded. “Good evening, Miss Cameron.” And then he left.
The rest of her friends had gone upstairs to change their gowns for the evening’s dancing, but the moment Elizabeth entered the rooms set aside for them the conversation and laughter stopped abruptly leaving Elizabeth with a fleeting, uneasy feeling that they had been laughing and talking about her.
“Well?” Penelope asked with an expectant laugh. “Don’t keep us in
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