Chapter 3
Phineas was delayed getting to Dumpkins’s study by, ironically, Olive’s brother. Ash L’arbre was a likable sort of fellow, but now that Phin knew how talented the man was at cards, he refused to allow himself to be drawn into another game.
By the time he reached the study, more than a quarter hour had passed, and when he stepped inside and realized Olive wasn’t there, his assumption was she’d arrived, then left, because she thought he wasn’t coming.
He was standing there in the middle of the room, his fists planted on his hips in disappointment, when a sound at the door had him whirling around. Hope flared in his chest, and when he saw her lovely, curious head pop around the edge of the door frame, it settled into a sort of rightness.
“Ye came,” he breathed, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Thank ye. Ye had nae trouble?” he asked as he crossed the room to pull her in and shut the door behind her, lest they be seen.
The room was lit dimly with gas lamps, and Olive meandered around in a sort of daze, her head cocked back to stare up at the shelves upon shelves of books.
“I was…detained by Tiffany,” she murmured. “She wanted to know why I looked so flustered. Good heavens, do you think that is an original Chaucer?”
Distracted, Phin started. “What? Oh, aye. It’s original.” She’d looked flustered? “What did ye tell her?”
Still staring up at the books, Olive murmured, “I told her I was off to meet a legend in the dark.”
She didn’t.
She told someone she was meeting him?
A legend?
“Olive!” He reached her and took her hand, wishing—not for the first time—she wasn’t wearing gloves. “Ye told yer friend ye were doing something scandalous?”
The moment her full attention landed on him, Phin felt that same sense of rightness sweep through him once more. And then she grinned.
“Oh, do not worry about Tiffany. She does not mind a little scandal. In fact, she helped me sneak away from the party so I could join you here.”
Phin blinked. “Oh. Good.”
They stood there in silence for a few heartbeats longer. He was utterly enchanted by the warmth in her eyes and the flush of excitement on her cheeks. And of course the way she bit her lower lip when the moment stretched just a shade longer than was comfortable.
“Are you really Aberdeen Jones?” she finally asked.
He squeezed her hand lightly. “Aye. I’m sorry, although I dinnae ken why I’m apologizing.”
Her breath suddenly burst out of her, and she seemed to deflate.
The smile she offered was sheepish. “No, I should be the one apologizing. I thought you were trying to impress me with stories of your adventures, which I knew were Aberdeen Jones’s adventures.
The thought of a man trying to impress someone like me was disconcerting enough I never stopped to consider you might be telling the truth. ”
“Why wouldn’t a man try to impress ye, Olive?”
The question startled her. Her head reared back as she peered up at him, as if trying to determine if he was mocking her.
“I am… I know I am not accomplished.” Her lips tugged ruefully upwards. “The Duke of Cashard made certain to point that out.”
“The duke’s an arse.”
She blinked at his quick condemnation. “Well, perhaps. He was certainly cold enough to be one.”
This was fun. “Oh? Are arses cold?”
Olive made a point of glancing downward at his kilt. “I suppose they can be a bit drafty. What does one wear under one of those?”
He waggled his brows. “Want to find out?”
It was gratifying the way her eyes widened, flashing thoughtfully with interest, before her lips quirked ruefully. “I would like to find out why you invited me here.”
And she’d come. Alone. In the dark.
To meet a legend.
“I wanted to show ye the earl’s collection.”
Glancing once around the room, she nodded. “And to confirm you really are—”
“I really am Aberdeen Jones. Or rather, I write under that name. Which is a stupid name, I’m willing to admit.”
But she was peering at him once more, as if trying to decide if she believed him. “And you really did all those things you wrote about? Or are they made up?”
“I really did all those things. I didn’t embellish much. If anything, I skipped some of the stories just so it could all fit.” A memory came to him. “I left out the hippo encounter when I was crossing the Nile, for instance.”
“When you were hunting for Amenhotep’s scepter?”
She really had read all of his Adventures?
“Nay, this was the year before, when I was a guest of the Khedive. Judging from the way he laughed as I splashed out of the river, he knew exactly what I was in for.”
Instead of chuckling with him, she pulled away, wrapping her arms around her middle as she crossed to stand beside one of their host’s heavy chairs.
“Olive?” How had he offended her?
“I…” She shook her head. “You have lived such an amazing life. Had so many adventures, Mr. Oliphant, and I—”
“Phineas, please,” he corrected gently, then crossed to her, wanting to ease her discomfort, but not certain how. “Or Phin.”
“Or Aberdeen?” she asked, half-teasingly half-hopefully as she peeked up at him.
His hands fell to his side. “I’d even allow you to call me that, but not in public please. It’s too embarrassing.”
“I think you should be proud. If I had lived half the adventures you have, I would be so happy.”
Suddenly, her hesitation made sense. “Ye want to travel and see the world, aye?” he whispered. “That’s why ye subscribe to the journal and read my stories.”
Mutely, she nodded, looking tiny and lost and ashamed.
Cursing himself, Phin drew her into his arms.
It should’ve been awkward, considering he barely knew the woman. But instead, it felt natural to hold her like this, to tuck her head under his chin and press his hands against her back, as if he could warm her.
“Olive,” he whispered, “ye are a remarkable woman. Nay, a remarkable person. Do ye ken how intelligent ye are? And kind, yet fierce, as well. And…” He shook his head. “Brave. So brave, so perfect.”
“I am not brave.” Her voice was muffled by his chest and served to remind him he had a beautiful woman in his arms.
Trying to keep his cock from stirring and alerting her to his less-than-noble response, he cleared his throat and pulled her away far enough she could peek up at him.
“Olive, ye no’ only ken enough about Roman architecture to write a full paper on it, but ye submitted it to the Society of Archaeology. That’s bravery right there.”
She scoffed quietly and looked away, dropping her chin. “It will not be accepted.”
“I ken it will be,” he assured her firmly. “Now, would ye like to hold my sphaerae?”
To his surprise, a laugh burst out of her, but when she pressed her lips together, it emerged as a sort of snort. Quickly, she turned away and pressed her fingers to her mouth.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, amused at her response.
“I am sorry.” She sounded as if she were gasping for air. “A terribly uncouth thought came to me, and I should have contained myself.”
Well, well. His little scholar had uncouth thoughts, did she?
Grinning, Phin tucked his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Tell me, did it have anything to do with my offering ye the chance to handle my balls?”
From the way she sucked in a breath, and the way her shoulders shook, Phin guessed that it did.
As much as he’d love to stand there and discuss her holding his ballocks, he took pity on her and turned away, allowing her time to contain herself.
Secretly, he was thrilled to find out his little scholar had a naughty side as well, but he’d invited her here for a particular reason, and he intended to follow through on that.
Clearing his throat, he began to speak nonchalantly as he opened various velvet-lined cabinets.
“Our hostess’s not-so-dearly departed husband was something of a collector.
He was the one who financed the archaeological dig on the property, resulting in quite a number of fascinating Roman artifacts.
He’d thought this the site of a military outpost, but the dig revealed a community full of everyday artifacts, indicating this was more of a town than a fort, complete with governing buildings and a marketplace. ”
Sure enough, the draw of archaeology was enough for Olive to overcome her awkwardness. She stepped up beside him as Phin laid a velvet-wrapped bundle on the table, and when he reached for the lamp, she got there first.
“How exciting!” She was smiling. “Imagine how incredible that must have been to realize your dig was ever so much more than you had expected and had greater implications.”
He didn’t have to imagine it; he’d been a part of it once or twice. But he just grinned in response. “Indeed.” With ceremony, he unwrapped the black velvet to reveal a perfect golden ball.
“This is a sphaera, found right here on the Dumpkins estate.”
She’d sucked in a breath at the sight of the gold, but Phin suspected her rapt gaze had less to do with the gold and more to do with the rarity of the artifact. She was already reaching for it, but her hands froze a few inches from the ball. “May I?’
She was still wearing her evening gloves, so there was no reason not to agree. “Of course. The gold is soft, but no’ that soft.”
Reverently, she lifted the artifact. “Stone sphaera were used to cap a part of a building—likely a porch—of little import. But a golden one? If it was used architecturally, it would have only capped the most important buildings in the city.”
“Or settlement.” He nodded along. “This one was found at the dig site near the river.”
She’d hefted the globe in both hands and was peering at it through the glass of her spectacles. “Do they not usually come in pairs?”
When he chuckled, she glanced up at him, and he grinned. “I should’ve guessed ye’d ken that.”
“Of course. Incidentally, you missed the opportunity to make a joke there.”
“About balls coming in pairs?” He winked. “I thought to preserve your delicate sensibilities.”