14. Confessions on a Hilltop
CHAPTER 14
CONFESSIONS ON A HILLTOP
T he following morning
“Did you sleep on the roof again last night?” Marcus asked when Diana joined him in the breakfast parlor of Vouros Mansion. He held a sheet of parchment in one hand and a fork filled with egg in the other. His garb was far more casual than usual—Nankeen breeches, blue waistcoat, simple shirt, blue cravat, and a pair of Hobys—and Diana was immediately reminded of what her father wore on the days he spent unearthing mosaics.
“I did not,” she replied, giving the kitchen servant a nod when the young girl set a plate at the table for her.
“But you were up there?” he countered. “On the roof?”
Diana glanced up from the slice of toast she was buttering. “For a time. Saw some meteors streaking across the sky. Did you go up?” Although she desperately wished to ask him more about what she had overheard, she knew she couldn’t without giving away that she had been on the roof while he was there speaking with Randy.
“I did. Had a chance to speak with our cousin in private.”
“Oh?” she murmured, turning her attention to her eggs. “Did you know Lord Forster from school?”
Marcus nodded as he set aside the sheet of parchment. “Indeed. And you can call him Forster. Or Randy if you prefer. He is our cousin,” he reminded her.
“Who’s the letter from?” she asked, wanting to take her brother’s thoughts—and hers—off Randy Forster.
“Father. He and Mother are leaving Rome—or left, rather—and are due back here in Athens the day after next.”
“Did he mention if they enjoyed their visit?”
He plucked the paper from the table and handed it to her. “You can read it for yourself,” he said. “What are you going to do today?”
Diana accepted the letter and set it next to her place setting. “I’m going back up to the Acropolis,” she replied. “Continue my search in the Erechtheion. And you?”
“I’m going to climb a hill with the Fitzsimmonses. Antonio wishes to visit the Prison of Socrates, wherever that is.”
“Philopappos Hill,” Diana stated. “Eastern slope.”
“Yes, that one,” he acknowledged. “Anything I should know about it?”
Diana suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Despite the two of them having grown up with an archaeologist for a father, beyond mosaics, Marcus had never gained an appreciation for the avocation as she had. “A complex series of caves carved out of the hill during the fifth century BC,” she recited from memory. “Although it’s rumored Socrates was imprisoned there, it’s not known for certain he was ever actually there.”
“So… what’s the attraction?” Marcus asked.
“Well, there are a series of passageways connecting the chambers, some murals on the walls, and a cistern at the back.”
Marcus regarded her with suspicion. “From your description, one would think you have already been there.”
“I have not,” she responded. “However, I have read about it. At least three of Father’s books include references to it,” she explained. “It is my intention to see it, probably with Father.”
“Does Pausanias mention this Socrates cave?” he asked. “In his first volume?”
Diana stiffened at hearing the Greek geographer’s name. “No,” she replied. “It was probably too obscure a location for him at the time he was in Athens.”
Marcus nodded, but from his expression, he appeared suspicious, as if he didn’t believer her answer. “You could come with us,” he offered. “Today.”
Although she was tempted—the series of caves would be interesting to explore—Diana shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I’ll go with Father.”
For a moment, he seemed uncertain of how to respond. “I’ll be employing the town coach for the day, so it won’t be available for you,” he warned.
“I can walk to the Acropolis,” she stated.
“Alone?” he said in alarm.
“I’ll wear a hat. Everyone will think I’m a boy.”
“Is that how you got home yesterday?”
“Of course,” she replied, ignoring the rebuke in his voice. “Will you take a basket of food with you?” she asked, remembering what he had said the night before. “Seems only fair you supply a picnic today since the Fitzsimmonses did so yesterday,” she added.
He nodded. “I told them I would.”
“Have you told the cook?”
Cursing softly, he moved to stand from the table.
Diana quickly stood. “I’ll see to it,” she offered. “One bottle of wine? Or do you require two?”
Marcus regarded her with appreciation. “Two, and thank you for reminding me. You are so much better at all the niceties.”
“Anything to help you secure Miss Jane’s hand in marriage,” she said, managing to sound sincere.
On the one hand, the thought of her brother married had her wincing on behalf of whoever agreed to be his future viscountess. On the other, the sooner he was married, the more likely he would be to go back to England. Perhaps he would live in the Henley townhouse in London, and Diana would no longer have to tolerate his censorious nature. He wasn’t so judgmental when their parents were about, but ever since the two of them had moved to Greece while their parents spent time in Rome, Marcus behaved as if she were his charge rather than his capable sister.
“That is what you want, is it not?” she asked, pretending concern.
Marcus seemed reluctant to answer. “Do you like her?”
Surprised he was asking her opinion, Diana shrugged. “Miss Jane seems perfectly respectable. Obviously raised to be the consummate aristocrat’s wife. And she is positively gorgeous.”
“Isn’t she, though?” Marcus agreed, apparently relieved to hear her assessment.
Diana inhaled and let the breath out. “If you do end up married to her, perhaps you wouldn’t feel the need to also have a mistress.” Prior to the night before, she wouldn’t have even thought to say such a thing, but after what Randy had said when they were up on the roof—how he had responded to her comment about having a mistress—she secretly wondered if Marcus planned to employ one.
Perhaps he had when he was at university.
Her brother’s eyes rounded with indignation. “Not that it’s any of your business, Sister, but I would never want for a mistress if I knew Miss Jane was going to be greeting me at the door every night upon my return home.”
Relieved to hear it, Diana acknowledged his comment with a teasing grin. “Good, because if she does agree to marry you, I’ll finally have a sister.”
Marcus blinked, as if he suddenly realized Diana could be an ally in securing Miss Jane’s hand in marriage. “I suppose you would,” he agreed.
She arched a reddish blonde brow and left the breakfast parlor in search of the cook. Although it took a few tries to make Elena understand her request—Ancient Greek and the current version of the language were somewhat different—the cook was soon assembling a collection of sliced meats, fruits, cheeses, bread, two bottles of wine, and a set of table linens into a basket.
Helping herself to a few items for her own luncheon, Diana stuffed them into her worn leather satchel, hung the strap of the tubular carrying case over her shoulder, and bade farewell to her brother with a reminder not to forget the basket of food.
When Kyknos opened the front door for her, she mentioned her brother’s need for the town coach, knowing full well Marcus wouldn’t have remembered to speak with the butler.
Although she still thought him too young to take a wife, the sooner Marcus married, the sooner she would be able to begin her life as a spinster.