Page 69 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“They are beautiful,” Darcy whispered, still peering through the telescope. “It is impossible to look upon them and not feel both very small and wonderfully curious. What lies beyond all we can see? I wish to know so much.” She slowly lifted her head. “There is something humbling in it.”

She laughed softly, the sound carrying lightly through the open air. “Is it not captivating, my lord?”

Sebastian looked not at the heavens, but at the woman standing before them. “Yes,” he said quietly.

Darcy smiled, believing they spoke of the stars. “I am quite content to watch them the entire night. Those clouds in the distance, however, appear equally determined to end our delightful excursion.”

The faint rumble of thunder had begun some time ago, rolling across the distant horizon, yet neither had made any move to return.

Darcy straightened, reluctantly relinquishing the telescope to him. “I noticed you had three telescopes in your library.”

“You did?”

A shoulder rose in an elegant shrug. “I notice a great many things.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Clearly.”

He rested a hand upon the polished brass tube. “There are several kinds of telescopes, each designed with a different purpose in mind. This one is an achromatic refractor.”

She regarded the instrument with renewed interest. “Achromatic?”

“The earliest refracting telescopes relied upon a single lens. They brought distant objects closer, but surrounded bright stars with colored fringes of blue and crimson.”

“How disappointing.”

“Quite. John Dollond corrected much of the difficulty by combining lenses made from different kinds of glass, producing a sharper and clearer image.” He gave the brass tube an affectionate pat. “This instrument came from Dollond’s ingenuity and hard work.”

“So I owe Mr. Dollond my gratitude for introducing me to the heavens properly.”

How pretty you are when you smile. The thought came with such unguarded tenderness that it unsettled him more than the desire steadily cutting through his self-command. “I suspect Mr. Dollond would have been delighted to hear it.”

She glanced toward the manor. “And the others?”

“One is a reflecting telescope. Rather than gathering light with lenses, it employs a polished mirror. They are excellent instruments and reveal remarkable detail, though they demand rather more patience to maintain.”

“That sounds troublesome.”

“It can be. Mirrors require frequent adjustment, and I confess I lack the temperament to fuss over one every time I wish to observe the sky.”

She laughed, the sound warm in the cool night air.

“The third is a smaller spyglass,” he continued. “It travels with me. It is useful for surveying the countryside, watching a hunt, or admiring a distant church steeple, but it cannot compare to this for observing the stars.”

Darcy’s fingertips drifted lightly over the cool brass before she looked back at the heavens. “You speak of them as though they are old friends. I can feel your passion.”

Sebastian’s gaze followed hers. “Once, sitting here beneath the sky was my greatest adventure. My father introduced me to the stars when I was little older than Sarah. Whenever the night was clear, he brought me outside and insisted there was no finer ceiling than one fashioned by God Himself. Later, when I felt lonely and bereft, the stars kept me company. There was comfort in looking upward and knowing they remained unchanged.”

“You were lonely here?” Darcy asked softly.

He looked at her then. “At times.”

“I cannot imagine anyone looking at you and believing you might require companionship.”

“Most people see only what rank permits them to see.”

Her expression softened. “I think that must be a very lonely thing in itself.”

It was an observation too perceptive for his comfort. “I have few complaints in life.”