Chapter 9
Emeline sat beside Louise in the dimly lit Reading Room. Although rare books with engravings of Viking weapons were open before them on the table, her mind wandered.
“What’s wrong?” whispered Louise.
“Wrong?” She spoke as softly as possible, all too conscious of the stodgy old men who made free to converse among themselves but sent scolding glances whenever a female so much as cleared her throat. “Whatever can you mean?”
“You haven’t turned a single page since the aide brought you that book!” Louise lifted a delicate brow.
Casting about for a plausible reply, Emeline murmured, “I think we need more detailed information from Hart about the artifact he has discovered. It’s one thing to say that the sword is Viking, but what proof does he have?”
“I think he hopes that we will uncover that proof.” Louise smiled wryly. “I suppose we might discover something in these old tomes when we least expect it.”
“Yet we may be wasting our time. How can that possibly benefit him?”
Louise shrugged. “As long as his lordship continues to remunerate us, I’ll keep poring over these books.”
“Hmm. Yes.” Emeline couldn’t tell her cousin that she was plagued with distinctly unscientific thoughts of Hart. Ever since last night, when they parted at his hotel suite, she’d felt dazed, even as her nerves tingled with new sensations.
Later, how long had she lain awake in bed, her senses spinning, confused yet excited in a way that was completely new?
Alone in the dark, she still felt the shock of Hart’s mouth on hers, burning, arousing…
although the kiss, if it could be called that, had lasted only an instant.
Perhaps he hadn’t even intended to kiss her at all, yet secret parts of her body were alive again…
for the first time since she had wandered into a stranger’s bed at Riven Court.
If Emeline didn’t know better, she would imagine he had given her some sort of potion.
Louise broke into her thoughts, murmuring, “Suddenly I am very hungry.”
At this, two of the men at their table sent them pinched glances. “Shh!”
The cousins exchanged nods and gathered their things. Minutes later, they had emerged onto the museum’s bustling, noisy courtyard. They had taken only a few steps when a familiar female voice called out to them.
“Darlings! Do my eyes deceive me?”
Emeline focused on the elegant older couple coming toward them. “Oh my, it’s my grandparents!”
She rushed toward them, her joy tinged with shame that she had not found time to visit since returning to London.
Her petite grandmother seemed ageless, and her grandfather wore his nine decades with the same careless assurance he’d once exhibited on the quarterdeck of his privateer, the Black Eagle.
One scarcely noticed that Grandmama held his arm, more for his support than her own.
“Oh my goodness, hello! What a surprise,” cried Emeline.
“We have come to view the new exhibit of Greek antiquities,” Devon Raveneau explained. “We did not expect to see you girls here, of all places. I began to think you had forgotten about us,” she scolded gently, blue eyes twinkling as they embraced.
For a moment, Emeline clung to her, breathing in her familiar scent. “I am so sorry! I don’t know where the days have gone. Forgive me.” She looked toward her grandfather. “Both of you, please?”
André Raveneau leaned slightly on his ebony cane and flashed a smile. “Ma petite, do not let your grandmother tease you. We are only glad that you and your cousin have come back to London.”
“That’s right,” beamed her grandmother. “You must enjoy other pleasures besides visiting us. Perhaps some dashing young men will appear on the scene?” Before Emeline could challenge this notion, Devon turned to Louise and embraced her.
“How wonderful that the two of you are making a home together. Independent females! I want to hear everything. You will both come to our party for André’s birthday on Saturday? ”
“Yes, we are coming. In fact—” At that moment, Emeline was interrupted by a rather nasal male voice calling out to her.
“Ah, Miss St. Briac. We meet again!”
As they all turned, Emeline beheld a tall, lean young man with gold-rimmed spectacles and an earnest expression striding toward them.
He carried an umbrella and, reaching her side, doffed his tall hat to reveal thick golden locks that fell over his brow as he bowed slightly.
Emeline realized it was the antiquarian from the Reading Room whom she had seen yesterday.
For a terrible moment, she couldn’t remember the fellow’s name, but he intervened. Bowing to her grandparents and cousin, he pronounced, “Allow me to present myself! Sir Giles Peyton, at your service.”
After introductions were completed, he turned to Emeline.
“Unpardonably rude of me to push in this way, Miss St. Briac, but when I saw you, I could not resist.” To the Raveneaus, Peyton added, “I was fortunate to meet this beautiful young lady during her last Season, but then she disappeared from London. Imagine my surprise upon observing Miss St. Briac yesterday, in the Reading Room! Quite a rare feat for her to gain entrance there, among all the male scholars, you know. Couldn’t help being impressed!
” His hazel eyes fixed on her face. “Be pleased to assist in any way, Miss St. Briac. I am not only a member of the Antiquarian Society but fancy myself an archaeologist as well. My true passion. Oversaw a very fine dig in Surrey just this past summer!”
Louise nudged Emeline and said, “We may indeed turn to you for assistance, Sir Giles. The work we are doing in the Reading Room is related to archaeology.”
Seeing his eyes light up, Emeline interjected, “But we are not at liberty to discuss it at this time.”
Devon Raveneau, watching with interest, now addressed the young man.
“Sir Giles, clearly my granddaughter and her cousin would like an opportunity to know you better. We are having an informal gathering at our home in Grosvenor Square on Saturday afternoon…a garden party to celebrate my husband’s birthday.
It would be delightful if you could join us. ”
“B’honored, madame! Very kind of you. Will you give me the particulars?” When this was accomplished, Peyton bowed again, bade them all farewell, and headed off toward the museum entrance.
“What a nice young man,” Devon said a bit too casually. “And you have interests in common!”
Emeline had felt her grandmother watching her during the interlude with Sir Giles, but she suppressed the urge to protest. She wanted to ask why, if Grandmama preferred nice young men, she herself had chosen a notorious libertine for her own mate?
Instead, she agreed, “Sir Giles indeed seems to be a fine fellow.”
“This intimate gathering for my cursed birthday is growing larger by the day,” Grandpère said ironically. He shifted his weight to indicate that he was ready to continue on to the museum.
Emeline was sorely tempted to ask if she might invite Hart as well but managed to restrain herself. If she made such a suggestion, she’d never hear the end of it from Louise.
In any case, it would be wise to keep her distance from him as much as possible. Hadn’t she already been inappropriate enough, throwing herself into his arms and kissing his cheek? The expression on Hart’s face when he drew back had been a warning she should heed.
“We are looking forward to having you girls with us on Saturday,” Devon was saying. “Goodbye until then.”
Her grandparents continued on their way while Emeline and Louise started toward Great Russell Street.
“I had the distinct impression that you were going to invite Lord Jasper to the party,” Louise said after a few moments.
Emeline hoped her cheeks weren’t turning pink. Really, there was no fooling Louise. “Clearly you were wrong!”
“I still find it difficult to believe that you convinced his lordship to keep Monte.”
“He did agree, for now, at least. He employs an exceptionally kind housekeeper, Mrs. Peachey, who was quite taken with Monte and pleaded his case. I suspect Hart did not want to seem a curmudgeon in her eyes.” She quickened her step, Louise keeping pace at her side as they emerged onto the bustling thoroughfare.
“Mrs. Peachey’s brother, William, is Hart’s valet, and it seems that they have been with him since he was a boy. ”
“Do you mean that they left the old duke’s employ to remain with Hart…the scapegrace second son?” Louise sighed. “Very heartwarming.”
“It is pure speculation on my part,” Emeline confessed, smiling.
“In any case, Hart agreed, under some pressure from the rest of us, to let Monte stay until his leg heals. He said Mrs. Peachey can look after him in her and William’s own rooms.” Amusement infected her tone as she continued, “However, Monte may have other ideas. He is very taken with Hart.”
Louise laughed. “I certainly had my doubts when you went up to his lordship’s suite with that basket, but I should know by now not to underestimate you, my dear cousin.”
“Very true!” Then, impetuously, she said, “I must admit, I am yearning to see Monte and discover how he fares. Let us stop at the Pulteney Hotel for a few minutes! If you are with me, it will be perfectly acceptable.”
They climbed into the broken-down hack and Emeline leaned forward to give the hotel’s address to the driver.
But before she could speak, Louise put a hand on her arm.
“I am going to advise that we go home instead, where you may consider this impulse. Of course, I am no expert on the subject of men, but I do think he might, uh, misunderstand if you turn up there again so soon.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’s Monte I want to see!” Even as she spoke, Emeline felt her cheeks flush and knew it was no use pretending. “Oh, all right then.” She gave their own address to the driver and sank back against the malodorous squabs, frowning. “How tiresome.”