Chapter Twenty-Three
Dom woke early, scratching out a quick note to the Van Arsdales, informing them of his immediate return to Norfolk. They wouldn’t
be pleased, but they could hardly quibble overly with him returning to the task they’d hired him to do.
More importantly, he wouldn’t risk Tess being put in an uncomfortable position where they were concerned.
By half past eight, they’d checked out of The Metropole and were aboard the train, the countryside rolling past in the pastel
hues of early morning light.
Tess’s bare hand fit perfectly in his, her thumb tracing idle circles against his skin.
“Should I speak to them?” she asked.
“The Van Arsdales?”
She nodded, glancing at him. “About my post on the dig. Perhaps I was hasty—”
Dom squeezed her hand and shook his head. “I understand why you made the choice you did.”
“But I regret it now,” she admitted, eyes searching his. “I want to be back out there.”
“So do I,” he told her, watching the way the sunlight made her green eyes glow. “I want us working together.”
She nodded, a bit of tension in her posture seeming to loosen. “Then I’ll speak to Mr. Van Arsdale when he returns to Norfolk.”
“What if we both speak to him?”
Her lips curved him an amused smile. “Tristan did say you could convince the American to take me back.”
“Actually . . .” Dom started, then shifted to face her more fully. “I have another idea.”
Tess’s burnished gold brows winged up. “Oh?”
“Have you ever been to the British Museum?”
“Of course.” Her face softened at some memory. “Father took Tristan and me many times. I once fantasized about working there.
It’s a favorite place of mine.”
“I thought it might be.” Dom grinned, feeling the pleasure of knowing her well enough to guess at what the place might mean
to her. “I know you spoke of a museum in Wiggenstow—”
A sigh gusted out of her, and she settled closer to him. “I realize it won’t ever happen. Tristan’s right. The Americans won’t
leave anything truly valuable behind in Wiggenstow.”
She curled her arm around his and leaned close, kissing him softly on the cheek. “I appreciate that you offered to try, but
we both know what they’ll say.”
Dom leaned closer, savoring that fleeting warmth of her lips on his skin. “They’d refuse outright because it would gain them
nothing. But what if there were a way to persuade him it was in his interest to leave the finds in England?”
Tess shot him a skeptical look. “Do the Van Arsdales strike you as particularly magnanimous?”
Dom chuckled. “No, not unless there’s self-interest involved.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a folder. “But they
do like good press.”
The folder seemed to pique her curiosity; she leaned in as he sifted through the clippings.
“That was the whole purpose of bringing me to London,” he explained. “They met with twice as many journalists as I did. Wined and dined them. All for colorful write-ups in the papers.”
“The gold buckle is just the beginning.”
“Exactly.” He pulled out one particular clipping and handed it to her. “Have you ever heard of T. T. Aldridge?”
Tess frowned, examining the article. “I don’t believe so. Should I?”
“Theodore Tiberius Aldridge,” Dom told her, excitement building in his chest. “Van Arsdale’s greatest rival. Their wives are
rivals too. Always trying to outdo each other in New York society. And the two titans are forever attempting to one-up each
other in terms of wealth and success.”
“Sounds exhausting,” Tess muttered.
Dom laughed deeply. “Agreed, but it might work to our advantage.” He tapped the clipping.
Tess’s breath hitched as she read. When she looked up at him, her eyes were alight with the anticipation he felt.
The article detailed how Aldridge had recently donated an impressive collection of prehistoric bronzes to the British Museum.
A generous act, for certain, but it had also earned him resounding transcontinental praise, with glowing articles in both
the London and American newspapers.
“You think Van Arsdale might do something like this?”
“If he saw the benefit, the opportunity to outdo Aldridge. A ship burial and all its riches donated to the British Museum?
The press would be agog. Wouldn’t that tempt him?”
Tess pursed her lips, considering. “That seems too much to hope for.”
He nodded. “It’s ambitious.” And there was no certainty of success. “But we can assemble allies.”
She turned toward him, gaze sharp, curious. “Allies?”
“Fenbridge will likely be in favor of this idea.”
Tess scoffed softly. “Based on how the Van Arsdales took control of Fenbridge Hall, they haven’t much respect for his lordship.”
“True.” Dom squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm. “But Fenbridge knows the right people. As do I. Nobles. Respected
collectors. Some of them museum donors.”
“And they respect you. An antiquarian. A Prince of Princes of London.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “They like my father’s panache, perhaps.”
“And yours,” she insisted.
He let out a harsh breath. “Van Arsdale sees me as someone he’s bought and paid for.”
Tess turned his hand, laying her hand atop his and lacing their fingers. “Then we call on those collectors you know. Anyone
particularly estimable?”
Dom studied their entwined fingers, then looked into Tess’s eyes. So bright and beautiful. Just like her. His chest filled
as if it might burst with the love he felt for her.
“I have a few ideas,” he told her, then bent to steal a too-quick kiss.
“You know this is a great risk for you,” she said quietly. “Van Arsdale might withdraw his patronage.”
Dom nodded, shifting in his seat. “We’ll need to speak to Eve, though I have every reason to think she’ll agree. When she
hears of how they’ve behaved . . .”
“I’m eager to meet her.”
“She’ll be pleased to meet you.”
“How can you be so sure?” She pushed at him playfully.
“My sister Allie said it best.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. “She said I look happy and haven’t in a long while.”
This time Tess leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that made him groan.
“If you don’t mind the risk, then I’m with you.” She drew her finger along his jawline, a stroke he felt wend through his
body, making him ache for her and the next time they could be alone.
As the train carried them north, he tried to keep from pulling her into his lap and ravishing his bride-to-be in a public
train carriage.
They talked about their plan and how best to approach Fenbridge. Their whole scheme took shape—one that might change everything.
“I suppose this is all my fault,” Eveline Prince said as she stood in the drawing room of Foxdene. “I’m the one who asked
you to visit Lady Goddard’s that day.”
Dominic’s sister was not happy with the plan to persuade the Van Arsdales.
“Yes, and we’ll be sure to tell our children that Aunt Eve played a part in our first meeting,” Dom told her with a wink.
Miss Prince rolled her eyes. Then she looked over at Tess and her expression softened.
“I mean no offense to you at all, Miss Hawthorne. I’m thrilled for both of you.” She approached until they were almost toe-to-toe.
“Thank you,” she said more quietly, “for being the reason my brother seems more himself than he has in a very long time.”
“He’s done the same for me.”
“Congratulations,” she said with a warm smile, “again. Please know none of my reservations are about you.”
“I understand.” And Tess did. The dig mattered to Eve Prince. She could see it in her eyes, the excitement in her voice when she spoke of what they’d found before her arrival and what had been discovered in the last two days.
A silver bowl in perfect condition had been recovered, along with silver spoons that indicated they may have been Byzantine
in origin due to their design and inscriptions.
Miss Prince turned back to her brother, who sat on a settee next to Tristan.
“You understand what I’m afraid of.”
Dominic nodded. “I do. Of course, I do. But it’s a risk worth taking.”
Tess cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s gaze her way. “As much as I don’t want to create enmity between siblings or with
you, Miss Prince, since I’m very much looking forward to having you as a sister . . .” She hesitated and took a breath. “I
know that I am the reason Dominic is determined on this course of action.”
“That’s not entirely true.” Dominic stood and approached her, taking Tess’s hand gently in his. “Do you think it didn’t bother
me to see the way they treated the dig, the artifacts? The notion of them all being shipped to America never sat right with
me.”
“Nor me,” Miss Prince put in. “But it is what we agreed to. Van Arsdale could fund a dig of this scope when others wouldn’t.
We can say whatever we like about them, and they probably deserve it all, but he is generous when he’s determined to succeed.”
“The man has more money than he knows what to do with. Of course, he treats it lightly.” Tristan spoke, and everyone turned
his way as he’d remained mostly quiet. “I wasn’t bothered at first. I knew Tess’s goal was to excavate that mound, and if
Van Arsdale could be the means, then I was content with whatever the consequences might be.”
“And the thousand pounds he offered,” Tess reminded him.
He managed to look momentarily abashed. “It was convincing for both of us,” he reminded her in turn.
“Agreed.” Tess had to acknowledge that she had signed Van Arsdale’s contract like the rest of them, even if it made her stomach
knot. “It was their arrival that changed everything.”
Eveline Prince nodded, though she hadn’t been present to witness any of it. “Tristan filled me in.” She cast a gaze at her
brother and then Tess. “Do we know where the gold buckle is now?”
“We don’t,” Dom told her. “We assume they’re traveling with it. Hopefully safeguarding it.”
“And showing it off to everyone they meet,” Tess couldn’t help adding.
Miss Prince crossed her arms and paced on the pale floral rug all the way to the edge of the room and then back again.