Chapter 32
Elijah hunched over a crate, removing two identically wrapped square objects.
The crate must have been packed for shipping by one of his servants because he had little idea what lay within the tightly bundled paper.
Not that he was overly concerned with any of it.
He had two crates and one trunk remaining then he would return to Liverpool.
And forget about his time in London.
Though, putting Samantha from his mind was an entirely different and likely impossible task.
A loud thump, followed by a yelp, sounded deep within the cavernous storerooms behind the museum proper. Eli made to stand, but several sets of feet rushed down the corridor outside the room he worked in.
Maybe travel would assist him. He’d had no urge for worldly adventure since his grandfather had passed away and his mother had crushed his spirit.
Eli’s journey to Hollybrooke had helped, but how much of that was due to Sam’s unexpected presence?
Honestly, London had been more enjoyable than he’d anticipated, as well—again, mostly because of Sam.
A leather-bound journal was wedged into the crate between another wrapped treasure and the wooden side.
As he grasped it and opened to the first page, the scent of his grandfather surrounded him as he noted the man’s neat script on the first page.
Elijah set the journal aside. It was not the time for him to travel down the path of memories.
Possibly he’d allow himself the luxury on the long journey back to Liverpool.
His time at White’s with Lord Cartwright and Sam’s brother was a unique time he’d hoped to repeat, that was until he’d spied Samantha’s name—with his own linked to it—in that blasted betting book.
He had no qualms about him and Sam being connected.
His intentions were of the purest nature; however, the other men listed and the nature of the bet were highly inappropriate.
She’d insisted she would never seek to become any man’s mistress; though her coquettish banter with the raven-haired lord—disguised as Viggo—spoke to the contrary.
Had she enlisted Eli’s accompaniment only to meet the man at the party?
He could not handle such deception on her part.
With any luck, he’d be gone and would never learn the extent of Sam’s duplicity.
He would depart before nightfall that very night, despite Lord and Lady Cartwright’s insistence he stay as long as he desired.
Elijah preferred to depart immediately, yet obligation dictated he remain long enough to finish his work at the museum and see the late marquis’ collection properly arranged and catalogued.
After that, his debt would be paid, his responsibilities fulfilled to both his grandfather’s legacy and his promise to Lord Cartwright and Lord Cummings.
“My lord!” a male voice sounded from the door. Eli turned to see Ames, the young apprentice assigned as his helper during his time at the museum. “I did not expect you until later today. I came in early to organize things for your arrival.”
“Sorry to startle you.” Eli stood from where he’d hunched over the crate. “I could not sleep and decided to arrive early. The night watchman let me in. I do hope I did not overstep.”
“Oh, certainly not, my lord.” Ames hurried across the room. “Lord Cummings and Lord Cartwright gave specific instructions you were to have full access to the museum until further notice.”
Eli couldn’t help but smile at the man. Ames had been overly accommodating since being assigned to him. “That will be today, Ames. I plan to finish and depart London before sundown. I have been away from my estate too long as it is. I cannot have the place falling apart while I’m away.”
Ames nodded in agreement but held his tongue before setting to work.
It was a lie. The Ridgefeld estate needed little oversight to run properly and efficiently.
His steward had grown used to the late marquis’ long absences, and truly, Eli being underfoot all the time was likely a hindrance.
However, since Eli had taken his place as marquis, he’d been much like a ship without sails, tossed around by the wind and sea, trying to gain some sort of course that always eluded him in the end.
Eli set back to his task, unwrapping the two identical square objects.
He’d mistakenly thought he’d found his intended course, discovered where his future lie and how to fill the void created by his grandfather’s death and his mother’s indifference.
With Sam by his side.
There was no lack of irony in the notion that one woman’s negligence had led him into the arms of another.
That he’d been so foolish as to allow Sam to burrow under his skin and nestle in a place he’d never intended to let another soul was inconceivable.
He shook his head in disgust of his deep-seated need to have someone close, to share his secrets, losses, and fears with. And she’d thrown them all back in his face.
“May I assist you, my lord?” Ames asked. “I am nearly finished with this trunk, and I can catalogue everything you’ve unpacked.”
“Thank you for all your help.” The man was eager to please. Cartwright had shared the man, fresh from Eton, was hopeful for a paid position with the museum. “I think you will make a wonderful addition to the staff here.”
Ames beamed with pride. “It is an honor to assist you with such an impressive collection, my lord.”
“It was my grandfather’s life’s work, all these antiquities.” Both men paused to scan the huge storeroom, almost every inch covered by assorted objects, ready for museum goers to enjoy. “I was with him when he collected half of these.”
“I, myself, have never been farther than the Scottish border.”
“Then I think it imperative that if your life allows, you journey and explore the world at large.” The vacant place within him from his grandfather’s passing opened again as memories flooded him: fond memories, exciting memories, harrowing memories, and…sad memories.
How many nights had he spent alone? How many days had he been left in camp while his grandfather explored areas too dangerous for a boy?
How many times had he met great people in far-off lands, felt a part of their life and them a part of his, only to journey to a new place and leave them behind?
After many years, Eli had learned never to get too close.
Always knew tomorrow would mean a new place and new people.
How had he forgotten this self-taught lesson?
Bloody hell, he’d even pictured himself spending afternoons at White’s with Cartwright and Garrett, evenings dining with Sam and her large family, and holidays in the country.
He could almost hear his mother’s cackle at his delusional thoughts of rescuing her from the clutches of some evil man—or place—in America and bringing her home to England.
He was an inept simpleton who’d been turned by a pretty face and enchanting manner.
“What would you call this?” Ames inquired, holding aloft a scepter encrusted with green gemstones. “A spear?”
“It is a scepter from the Aztec ruins.” One of his grandfather’s most prized discoveries and, without a doubt, the most valuable piece of the collection.
“It is said to have belonged to the second king of Tenochtitlán, Huitzilihuitl in 1400. My grandfather thought it comical to carry it around our estate and use it to point out things.”
“I would have much enjoyed meeting the late marquis.” Sadness seemed to fill Ames as if he understood the immense loss and emptiness Eli had faced in recent months. “Lord Cartwright speaks very highly of him.”
“He was a kind, caring, and compassionate man. Not to mention, a man of great patience and understanding.”
Eli had barely thought of his grandfather during his time in London, beyond thinking the old man would have enjoyed gallivanting about the city. Phaeton races, the play, and a scandalous card game.
It would be hard to enjoy the memories now. Sam’s image would taint them all. He could not think of one without thinking of her: in his arms, bodies pressed together, heated lips exploring. His heart fluttered for a brief moment before crashing once more.
He would return to Liverpool to be haunted by not one ghost, but two.
The life he’d had stolen away from him when his grandfather had passed.
And the life he’d almost had which was never fully realized.
Lord Cartwright—and Jude—had been correct when they’d cautioned him against thinking that Sam’s feelings were true when all she’d sought was a means of escape during her time at Hollybrooke, made all the more complicated when her father appeared.
She’d been honest with him. He’d known the terms of their agreement.
It was his foolishness that had led him to believe he meant more to her than a mere companion while in town—a distraction from her mundane life and a way to keep away the many men who sought her physical charms with no other promise for the future.
He’d held a true affection for her, and thought she’d felt the same.
It was a mistake to think she’d accept a proper courtship from him. His only saving grace was that he hadn’t mentioned his plans to Cartwright and Garrett the other evening. How embarrassing to have to look the men in the eyes and for all to know Sam had refused his courtship.
Distance, and time. That was exactly what Eli needed.
Two things he would not obtain if he remained in London with Lord and Lady Cartwright…for no other reason than Lady Cartwright was identical in appearance to the woman he meant to forget.
In no other way were they similar. Sam’s appealing, honey-toned, husky voice was at complete odds with her sister’s high-pitched, singsong speech.
Their auburn hair was a similar length with Sam’s being ever so slightly longer, but their preference for style could not be any more dissimilar—Sam favoring upswept curls or long locks falling over one shoulder, exposing her long neck and graceful, confident poise.