Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Barbara couldn’t ever remember being this nervous about an antiquities salon, and it had everything to do with the man sitting across from her in the carriage, listening politely to her father expound upon the superiority of the ancient Greeks over all other cultures.
Every once in a while, Kenneth would glance at her and include her in the conversation, and she would go all warm and gooey inside. This man had the unique ability to do that to her, and she still wasn’t certain why.
Well, she knew why. He was a truly handsome specimen whose smile made her heart beat faster and her nether regions get all throbby.
There were enough pieces of erotic literature available to an enterprising young lady with her own library and funding to know what exactly that throbbing meant—and despite her best efforts, Margaret had been most descriptive of the marriage bed.
Barbara could admit that the idea of feeling that with this man excited her.
She wanted Sir Kenneth Fraser…and against all expectations, he seemed to want her as well.
Barbara had never encountered a man like that before.
Even now, giving every impression of listening to her father’s ridiculous claims that the Spartans were technologically superior to the Egyptian New Kingdom, Kenneth kept sending her amused little glances. As if they were both in on a joke and he wanted her to participate.
Finally, only a few streets from the Nutt home, he shifted on the squabs to ask, “And what is yer opinion, Miss Fokette?”
Yesterday he’d called her Barbara. Heavens, he’d called her Barbie, which no one had called her since she’d been four years old and Margaret had teased her. But he’d called her by her given name and listened intently as she’d expounded on her favorite topics.
And now he was doing it again. Looking at her. Listening.
The realization that he seemed to genuinely care about her opinion made her sit up straighter, made her smile. “I think, Sir Kenneth, my father has his blinders on when it comes to architecture, art, and weapons design.”
Papa began to sputter, Kenneth began to laugh, and Barbara smirked smugly at their old debate.
“Weapons design? Weapons design?” Papa’s voice got higher as he grew more irritated. “You think the khophesh sword was superior to the xiphos?”
Since she had thrown that particular example in merely to poke at her father, Barbara nodded firmly. “Absolutely. A proven success.”
As she knew he would, Papa launched into an animated—and peeved—lecture into the weaponry of ancient Greece…and across the carriage, Kenneth shared a small smile with her. The fact he’d recognized what she was doing made her feel as if she had a partner, and the feeling was quite heady indeed.
That shared amusement lasted all the way until they reached the Nutt home, the carriage pulling to a stop in the short line of those waiting to disgorge fellow academics. When it was their turn, Kenneth hopped out first and helped down first her Papa, then Barbara.
His hold on her lingered, and when they turned to the stairs it seemed so natural to slip her hand into the crook of his arm, to feel his muscles beneath her fingertips.
To rely on him.
As he’d done at the Standish ball, Kenneth modulated his pace to fit her jolting one.
She liked that he hadn’t referenced her disability again, even though she knew he must have seen her boot yesterday when he’d arrived in her library.
While another man might have noted it, or at least asked what happened, it was as if Kenneth didn’t care.
That made her like him even more.
Be honest with yourself; you are just looking for excuses to fall in love with him, are you not? You just met the man!
Excuses to fall in love?
Barbara snuck a glance at his strong profile. She was half in love with him already, was she not?
The salon was a familiar comfort, and she appreciated that the men here—mostly older academics like Papa—more or less accepted her and her contributions. Later there would be refreshments and Mr. Nutt’s lecture, but for now they were free to examine his collection.
So, still safely tucked up at Kenneth’s side, Barbara began to lead him from stand to stand, murmuring explanations and descriptions.
Just as he’d done yesterday, Kenneth’s contributions were insightful questions and teasing observations.
He made her laugh more than once, the sound unnatural in the staid and sedate atmosphere.
And yet she gloried in it.
But as more people arrived to view the collection, the conversation picked up, and Barbara no longer felt quite so on display. She was able to raise her voice more—she had to, to be heard over the other discussions around them—and felt herself relaxing.
“And this piece is the real reason we are all here tonight,” she announced, finally tugging Kenneth toward the center of the room.
“Mr. Nutt’s new false door stele.” She pointed a gloved finger down one edge of the stone.
“See these carvings? This was from the tomb of a minor official during the Twelfth Dynasty, excavated near Abydos.”
“Very good, Miss Fokette!” came a jolly voice from behind, and Barbara and Kenneth stepped aside to welcome Papa and his friend, Mr. Sinter, to stand before the stele. “You’ve learned to read hieroglyphics faster than most!”
Mr. Sinter was a large man with a thick white beard and a large stomach, and surprisingly delicate hands. Chuckling, he thrust one of those hands out to Kenneth. “Klaus Sinter, young man. Although I’m not the host, allow me to welcome you to our little circle of academics!”
Looking amused by the enthusiastic welcome, Kenneth accepted the handshake without releasing her. “Sir Kenneth Fraser, at yer service, sir. I’m learning so much.”
“That so, eh?” Mr. Sinter winked at Barbara while simultaneously nudging Papa. “Many a young man has developed a matching passion to impress a lady, eh?”
She felt a blush climbing her cheeks and steadfastly refused to glance at Kenneth. Imagine, assuming a man would pretend an interest in antiquities just to impress her!
Still, she could feel when he glanced down at her. And she was impressed.
“Perhaps,” was all he said, which caused Mr. Sinter to chuckle harder.
“Come now, Nicklaus,” Papa objected. “You’re embarrassing my daughter. If it’ll get you to stop, I’ll allow you to tell me all about this thing. A stele? What’s so special about it? Looks like a heap of rock to me.”
It was comical, how quickly Mr. Sinter gasped in affront and pulled Papa to stand in front of the display. When he launched into an explanation as to the rarity of a false door stele, its proper description, Papa snuck a glance over his shoulder at Barbara, a small smile on his lips.
She couldn’t recall ever being so grateful to him before, and found her shoulders slumping in relief.
“Jolly auld men are just the worst, aye?”
Kenneth’s murmured question jerked her back to the present. When she looked up at him, he was watching her with what looked like concern. Barbara realized his question had been a purposeful distraction.
Unable to help herself, she smiled gratefully up at him.
“Thank you for being so polite to him.” And for lying about why you are here, if that is what you did.
“Mr. Sinter is not only a respected Egyptian art scholar, but a broker himself. He has connections in Egypt and across the continent that many of us do not have; I believe he is the one who arranged for Mr. Nutt to acquire that false door stele.” She nodded to the artifact. “And more than that…”
When she trailed off, uncertain how to finish that sentence, Kenneth leaned closer. “More than that?” he murmured, his lips less than a foot from hers, the position somehow intimate despite being in the midst of a crowd.
Barbara drew in a shuddering breath. “There are some men who believe a lady—a young, unmarried one at that—has no place in the world of antiquities collection. My father encouraged my interest young, and my grandfather left me a…well, a small fortune with which to pursue my passion, but when I fell in love with ancient Egypt I struggled to find a mentor.”
Understanding flashed in his warm gaze, the topaz ringing his irises seeming brighter. “And Mr. Sinter was that mentor?”
She nodded, heart beating faster at his proximity. “He—he is well-known, and respected, and when he accepted me into the community, the others did as well. I have often written to him for advice or asked his opinion about pieces before I acquired them.”
Nodding, Kenneth glanced over his shoulder to where Sinter had welcomed two more men, chatting jovially with them. “He strikes me as the sort of man who enjoys what he does and wants everyone else to as well.” That delicious brown gaze dropped to her again. “Like ye.”
Her breath caught. “I have never had someone who was interested in learning,” she admitted in a whisper.
His dimple flashed. “Ye do now.” Kenneth lifted his chin, finally releasing her from his spell as he nodded over her shoulder. “Those are canopy jars, aye?”
Feeling somewhat unsteady after the intensity of the connection between them, Barbara forced herself to take a shaky inhale as he took her arm once more and led her to a display along one wall, a little out of the way.
As they approached, she forced her attention—and her unfortunately out-of-control desire—back to the here and now. She was surrounded by magnificent antiquities, and it was silly to consider a mere man when so much brilliant history was on display.
On the other hand, when that man was Kenneth… “Yes,” she finally answered him. “Canopic jars, from the Twentieth Dynasty.”
“This is the one for the liver.” One long, tanned finger pointed them out. “That one is the lungs.”
“Very good.” She found herself beaming at him as if he were a talented pupil. “You have been paying attention.”