Five
The air was cooler after sundown, but Jonathan’s lawn shirt clung to his skin as rivulets of perspiration dripped down his face. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the cart up the incline while Dom’s servant pulled.
Moonlight illuminated the younger man’s light clothing, his black hair shiny with sweat.
“Let’s enter through the back gate,” Jonathan said between panting breaths.
Petros grunted, straining to tug their load the last few feet to the service alley running behind the villa.
Jonathan could have sent two men to retrieve Wedmore’s trunk, but he had wanted to question Mrs. Bellini without Miss Darlington and her family present.
As suspected, Mrs. Fanny Flibberquick bore a remarkable resemblance to the Earl of Wedmore—tall for a woman, slender build, blue eyes, silver hair.
Miss Darlington’s claim that Wedmore and Flibberquick were siblings could explain the similarities, but Jonathan knew there was no living sister. Mrs. Fanny Flibberquick would have been listed on the dossier.
So she’d lied.
He grimaced. How much did Miss Darlington really know about her uncle’s activities in Greece?
As they neared the back gate, he ordered Petros to stop.
“Be as quiet as possible,” Jonathan said, “and help me carry this upstairs.”
The trunk was locked, but he had tools in his quarters. He would arrange for the servants to deliver the trunk to Wedmore’s nieces tomorrow after he examined the contents.
He left his coat crumpled in the bed of the cart and grabbed one of the thick leather handles, pausing to unlatch the back gate. The solid wood panel swung into the courtyard on well-oiled hinges.
Neither he nor Petros spoke as they passed the kitchen garden and headed for the cistern bubbling in a corner of the courtyard. He stopped long enough to splash his face, the water running down his neck and chest. Petros took a turn next and gulped water from his cupped hands.
“Is that you, Sir Jonathan?”
He jumped, biting off a startled curse.
“Oh! You’ve returned with Aunt Fanny’s trunk already?” Miss Darlington rushed toward the trunk sitting on the stone pavers. “I wasn’t expecting it until tomorrow.”
“I…erm. I thought you might want it sooner.”
“How lovely. I am surprised you personally retrieved it.” Her eyes glimmered in the torchlight when she looked up at him. “Xavier would have helped if we had known. You’ve done so much for us already.”
“It—It was no trouble, miss.” He swiped a sleeve across his face, embarrassed to be found in such a state of dishabille.
“I am grateful nonetheless.” Her fleeting smile made his heart thump harder than the exertion had.
She gestured toward the open glass doors leading to the private sitting room she shared with her family. “Should I retrieve my brother-in-law to help carry it into my bedchamber?”
“No, thank you. Are you certain you don’t want it stored until your aunt returns? It might be in your way.”
“There is plenty of space,” she said, turning on her heel. “Follow me.”
Jonathan frowned at Petros when he didn’t grab the other end immediately.
“I want to go through her belongings,” Miss Darlington explained. “Perhaps she left a clue about where she has gone.”
“It’s—” He snapped his mouth shut. He had almost told her the trunk was locked, which he would only know if he had tried to open it.
Reaching the glass doors to her bedchamber, she glanced over her shoulder. “It is…?”
“It feels full. Hopefully you will find something useful inside.”
She stopped in the threshold to face him. A lamp was lit in the room behind her, casting her face in shadows.
“I didn’t expect you to retrieve it personally, sir.” Her tone was crisper than before.
He adjusted his grip on the strap. “The other servants are busy preparing for dinner. I only wanted to help.”
They stared at one another. The splash from the fountain in the middle of the courtyard grew louder as the moment stretched. A breeze rustled through the lemon and orange trees.
She exhaled, chuckling softly. “Forgive me. Too much time in my sister’s presence has made me as leery as she is.”
Splendid. With a houseful of suspicious guests, his chance to search Wedmore’s trunk might have slipped through his fingers.
He and Petros followed her into the room and placed the trunk at the foot of the bed. As he stood, Miss Darlington’s eyes widened. Her gaze locked on him as if inspecting an artifact. His shirt had become translucent from splashing himself with water, and the thin fabric molded to his chest.
She was dressed for dinner in a lightweight pale blue gown, her ringlet curls pulled back with silver combs adorned with delicate filigree. A wash of pink stained the apples of her cheeks, but her gaze didn’t waver as she reached for a strand of hair at her temple, twirling it around her finger.
“I, erm…” He reverted to being the awkward antiquarian who didn’t know what to do with his hands—only this time it wasn’t an act. He crossed his arms, then reached to scratch the back of his neck. “I should change before dinner. Is it late? It feels late.”
She dropped her hand at her side. “There is time. We will wait for you before going to the table.”
Jonathan thanked her, though he was the host.
“No, thank you, sir.” She fidgeted with the clasp on her glove and glanced at his chest again.
“I am pleased to be of service.”
Petros stood by silently, smirking. Jonathan narrowed his eyes at him.
“I—I hope your aunt and uncle return soon,” Jonathan said.
“So do I,” she murmured. “In the meantime, they would insist we enjoy Athens. Perhaps over dinner you could recommend sights we shouldn’t miss?”
“I would be honored.” As he slipped outside, he said to Petros in Greek, “Not a word to anyone. You saw nothing.”
Petros nodded. Jonathan strode into the villa and hurried up the stairs to his quarters to change.
Sightseeing, eh?
It was a practical activity when visiting Athens, but her guarded manner suggested she wasn’t being forthcoming. What if Wedmore came out of hiding once he heard his nieces were here? He might approach them at one of the ruins.
Clearly, the earl knew he was being hunted.
Otherwise, why would he disguise himself?
At every port, Wedmore had been several steps ahead of Jonathan.
There was a good chance he might even know Jonathan was his pursuer, which left him in a pickle.
He couldn’t accompany Miss Darlington and her family on their outings if he wanted to draw Wedmore out, and he couldn’t follow them without Wedmore’s nieces noticing.
Damnation! He needed Dom’s assistance, but his fellow Regent’s man left the villa early that morning and hadn’t returned. Jonathan had no idea where he had gone, and he wouldn’t ask. They had been trained not to question their colleagues’ mysterious disappearances.
As Dom’s valet helped Jonathan don his jacket and passed a final brush over the fabric to remove lint, it struck him. He could search Wedmore’s trunk while Miss Darlington and her family were sightseeing.
Miss Darlington and Mr. and Mrs. Vistoire were waiting in the seating area that adjoined the dining room when he came downstairs.
The table, with dinnerware arranged in the English fashion, was visible through the arched doorway.
Candles burned in both tiers of the giltwood chandelier, casting a warm glow over the fine bone china and glinting off the polished silver.
He paused, taking in the unexpected grandeur. Dom had never bothered to have the table properly set when it was just the two of them—not that Jonathan minded. He was often happiest eating from a pot over an open fire while discussing plans for the next day’s dig with the local men he hired.
“Shall we?” Jonathan gestured toward the dining room.
Once everyone was seated, he rang for the first course to be served.
Miss Darlington, who was seated across from him, smiled, putting him at ease. “I understand you and Lady Norwick have known each other since you were children.”
“We have,” he said, tension draining from him. “Her father was the local parson. Lady Audley is from the same county, but we rarely interacted.” Her father had been a duke and his, simply a baronet.
“Did you hear Lady Audley remarried?” Miss Darlington asked. “To the youngest Hillary brother, Jake.”
His jaw twitched. “I had forgotten.”
And Ben Hillary had won the heart of Jonathan’s fiancée when he stepped aside to pursue his current assignment. It was for the best, because clearly, Miss Thorne had still been in love with Ben, but it stung a little all the same.
“It has been nearly a year since Bibi and I have spoken,” he said. “I hope she and Lord Norwick are well.”
“As fit as fiddles,” Miss Darlington said before providing footnotes for her companions. “Sir Jonathan’s father was an antiquarian, too, and he traveled with his family. Can you imagine?”
“You had an unconventional upbringing,” Regina Vistoire said. Disapproval typically accompanied such observations, but he detected none from the lady.
“I never grew bored,” he answered.
Miss Darlington laughed. “My sisters and I can say the same. Uncle Charles and our great-aunt spoiled us terribly with their eccentricity. Now we expect everyone to be interesting, and I cannot lie, I find many in society are lacking.”
He grinned. Her absence of self-censorship was refreshing. “I hope I’m able to measure up to your standards, miss.”
“I suspect you will exceed them.”
The couple exchanged a look—Regina Vistoire’s blonde eyebrows angled slightly—leaving Jonathan with the impression they communicated on another level he hadn’t experienced.
“I am curious, Sir Jonathan,” Miss Darlington said. “Like you, Uncle Charles is a seasoned antiquarian of some renown. Several of his finds are on display at the British Museum, and one cannot turn a corner at Wedmore House without encountering one of his treasures. Do you know him professionally?”
Not in that capacity, no. Jonathan wiped his mouth with the napkin, stalling. “I spent most of my adult life abroad and never had the pleasure of meeting your uncle.”
It wasn’t a lie. He and Wedmore were both Regent’s men, but Jonathan had been recruited and trained by their commander. Once Farrin had deemed Jonathan ready for service, he was sent abroad. His path had never crossed with Wedmore’s.
“I am familiar with the earl’s work,” Jonathan said. “I’ve read several papers he published and admired his renderings in Vetusta Monumental. Very realistically sketched. I am always impressed with the attention to detail.”
“Which drawings did you admire, exactly?” she asked, bouncing slightly on the chair.
Her enthusiasm infected him, causing a familiar longing to stir to life in his heart. He missed the thrill of discovery that came with excavation.
“They are all spectacular,” he said, “but the one depicting the Greek hoplite’s full armor was the most memorable. What a boon to find the shield and spear still intact.”
“Don’t forget the short sword.” She beamed, her round cheeks flushed. “Uncle Charles returned home quite victorious.”
“I think you were as excited by his find as he was.”
“Maybe more.” Her laughter held the sound of pure joy. It elicited a genuine smile from him.
“Evangeline does all of Uncle Charles’s renderings,” her sister said.
He drew back. “That was all your work, Miss Darlington?”
“Yes, and I love it. My uncle doesn’t have the patience, and he values my steady hand.”
“As he should,” Jonathan said. “You are a talented artist. It is a shame the publication didn’t include an attribution.”
She shrugged. “They never do for ladies.”
Well, that was unfair.
“But I am always happy to help Uncle Charles, and he doesn’t take credit for my work when he receives compliments. Besides, he finds the treasures. I would have nothing to draw otherwise.”
“May I tell you a secret, Miss Darlington?” he asked.
“Please, do.”
“I find—”
She leaned toward him, her blue eyes twinkling. His mouth was dry all of a sudden. This is bad—very, very bad. She was utterly charming and seemed to have cast a spell that tied his tongue.
“Yes, Sir Jonathan? Don’t have second thoughts now.”
He blinked. For a brief moment, he thought she was referring to his weakening resolve to complete his mission.
“I… I find your uncle’s methodology enlightening,” he said, recovering his voice at last. “I attempt to emulate him when excavating.”
Lord Wedmore believed in preserving as much of the artifact as possible in order to better understand how past civilizations lived, but it required more patience and dedication than most of their contemporaries possessed.
“Uncle Charles would be thrilled to hear he is emulated,” she said. “I will introduce you when he returns so you can tell him personally.”
He inclined his head, his gut sour at the thought of taking advantage of her generosity. “I would be honored.”
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly with Miss Darlington discussing her particular area of interest, ancient warfare. She was a lively, intelligent young woman, and her knowledge of war tactics during the Greek Archaic Period was…well, shocking.
To be frank, she knocked him caput supra calcem.
Head over heels.
His father had used the Latin phrase once to describe the moment Jonathan’s mother agreed to embark on an expedition with him rather than taking a proper honeymoon.
Mentally, he erased the thought. Evangeline Darlington was a means to an end, and he couldn’t afford to allow his attraction to her to affect his mission.
Toward the end of the evening, Jonathan suggested Miss Darlington and her family tour Hadrian’s Library, the ancient Agora, Tower of the Winds. “And of course, the Acropolis,” he added, “though you must have permission. I could look into it if you like.”
“That would be wonderful, Sir Jonathan,” she said. “One cannot travel all the way to Athens and not tour the Acropolis.”
He had an excuse ready for when he was invited to accompany them sightseeing, but an invitation didn’t come. As she bid him good night, he couldn't shake the sense his exclusion wasn’t an oversight. Whatever she was hiding, he would uncover it tomorrow, starting with his search of Wedmore’s trunk.