Page 73 of The Bridal Quest

"The sort of love that poets praise, no doubt." His mouth twisted cynically. "That, at least, is one failing I shall not have to worry about."

"I suppose not," she agreed, aware of the drag of regret in her chest. "Neither one of us shall."

The carriage turned into the lane leading to Radbourne Park, and a few moments later they were rattling across the small bridge. Gideon cast a look toward the house looming in the distance, and his expression turned reluctant. Suddenly he reached up and rapped upon the roof of the carriage. The vehicle rolled to a stop.

"Come," he said to Irene impulsively, and opened the door to climb down. He turned back, holding up his hand to help her out. "Please? There is something I would like to show you."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but she took his hand and climbed down. He struck off on a course parallel to the edge of the woods, and intrigued, she followed him.

Chapter Seventeen

They walked for perhaps twenty minutes, staying close to the woods, then cutting through the swath of trees that curved back toward the house. Irene saw that they were close to the ruins of the Norman keep that had once kept watch over the Bankes land, long before the earldom had been bestowed on them.

She had seen the place on her first walk here and had wanted to explore it, but she had not yet done so. The riding party a few days earlier had gone past the ruins, and Lady Calandra, unsurprisingly, had thought it would be fun to explore. They had not stopped, however, for Miss Surton had declared with a shiver that it was eerie, and Gideon had prosaically commented that the place was too unstable to poke about in.

"The ruins?" Irene said now, casting a quizzical glance at Gideon. "Is that what you wanted me to see?"

"In a way. Something inside the tower."

"I thought it was too unstable, that it was dangerous to go inside," she reminded him.

A quick grin flashed across his face. "For Miss Surton, it is, certainly."

Irene let out a gurgle of laughter. It pleased her more than she cared to admit to hear Gideon's dismissal of Rowena Surton.

He led her into the tower. It was dim inside, but as they climbed the stairs, chinks and even holes in the stonework let in more and more sunlight. They emerged onto the top floor, and he opened the sturdy wooden door, revealing a room beyond. Irene drew in her breath in surprise.

Unlike the rest of the tower, dust and ruin had been banished here. A large piece of canvas slanted from the remains of the fallen roof down across to the waist-high southern wall of the tower, closing out the elements. A rug was spread across the portion of the room farthest from the half-ruined wall, and upon it were a pile of large comfortable pillows and a low table, as well as a small bookcase. A kerosene lamp sat on the table, and two candles stood on the bookcase. Close to the canvas-covered wall, by itself, with only a stool nearby, was a telescope.

"Gideon!" Irene looked around her, amazed. "I had no idea!"

"No one does." He walked over to the wall and unwound a rope from a bracket, then pulled on it on it, and the canvas rolled up, opening the room to the outside.

"It's beautiful," Irene breathed, looking at the suddenly revealed view of the countryside. She raised her head, looking up at the late afternoon sky.

"So this is where you come at night!" she exclaimed.

"What?" It was his turn to look surprised.

"I've seen you once or twice, late in the evening, walking out through the gardens, and I've wondered where you went." She paused, then added candidly, "I thought perhaps you were having an assignation."

"Indeed?" He arched his brows. "How ... interesting to hear your opinion of me. And who did you think I was coming to meet? One of my tenants' wives? A maid?"

"I had no idea. But I could not imagine why else you would be slipping out this way, on foot, at that time of night. I had no idea you were an astronomer."

"I scarcely qualify for that title," he replied easily, strolling over to the telescope and running a hand along it. "Actually, I had no interest in it—indeed, had never thought of it—until I came here. But this telescope was in the house—a hobby of my grandfather's, apparently—and I decided to try it out. I found the skies fascinating, and then, when I was roaming about, learning the grounds, I came upon the tower and saw how, with a little rebuilding, it could be used for an observatory." He looked out across the landscape. "I find it soothing. An escape." In an undertone, he added, "I have used it a great deal the last few days."

Irene glanced at him sharply, then looked away. "You ... have not enjoyed the party?" she asked in a determinedly casual tone, keeping her eyes on the landscape beyond.

He made a low, inarticulate noise. "Bloody hell, Irene! Of course I have not enjoyed it. Who could enjoy listening to conversation so treacly it makes one's teeth ache? Everything is so 'sweet', so 'cunning', so 'pretty' and 'pleasant'. If I ask for an opinion, all I receive is a laugh or a wave of the fan, or perhaps, 'Oh, my lord, I do not know. What do you think?' What sort of an answer is that? I know what I think."

She could not help but laugh, and he swung on her with a dark look.

"Oh, yes, well you may laugh. You are not the one having to endure it. Don't think I have not seen you sneak away every chance you get."

She should not have been so pleased, she knew, to learn that he was not enjoying the dogged pursuit of the young women at the party—or that he had noticed when she left the room.

"There is little for me to enjoy," she replied, and though she knew she should not, she added, "You did not even ask me to dance."