Eight
As Jonathan and Dom climbed the winding path leading to the Acropolis, Jonathan muttered, “When the Regent’s Consul promised me adventure, chasing ghosts wasn’t what I had in mind.”
Dom let out a gravelly sigh and ducked beneath a low-hanging branch. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. I would rather be shot than look at one more pile of rocks.”
“They are ruins, and they are a link to otherwise forgotten civilizations.”
“Eh, I don’t understand the appeal.”
Jonathan aimed a narrow-eyed glance at his companion. Dom was a philistine. It was a wonder they got along as well as they did.
Despite their differences of opinion when it came to ancient ruins, Jonathan shared in his frustrations. Dom had been following Evangeline and her family for six days, and Wedmore hadn’t made an appearance. Yet again, he was outmaneuvering them.
“Do you ever wish we had trained under him?” Jonathan asked.
“It would be damned easier to track him if he’d shared his secrets.” Dom whipped off his hat and intercepted a rivulet of sweat with a handkerchief before it dripped into his eye. “Hellfire, it’s bloody hot.”
For a man who should have grown accustomed to the Mediterranean sun after five years at his current post, he perspired like a vicar caught with his drawers down.
It was scorching hot, though. Jonathan’s own shirt was plastered to his torso, and his lightweight ivory jacket was beginning to feel more like a fur pelt.
“You still haven’t found anything incriminating?” Dom asked.
“Nothing.” Jonathan had been searching the guest quarters every day Evangeline was away from the villa, hoping to find whatever she might have removed from the trunk’s false bottom.
Clearly, she had acquired skills her lady’s education wouldn’t have covered. She might have picked the lock before Jonathan had a chance. She had certainly gotten into the trunk later and found his book.
“Let’s hope Wedmore shows himself today,” Dom said.
“The sooner you find him, the sooner I can stop being a prisoner in my own home.” He gestured to the guard-house ahead.
“It cost forty shillings. I had to listen to the Disdar’s droning over coffee before he granted permission to visit. You owe me doubly.”
At the gate, Dom stated his name and the Turkish guard allowed them entrance. The grounds were teeming with tourists. Jonathan searched for Miss Darlington and her family.
“If Wedmore doesn’t make contact,” Dom grumbled, “we move forward with our plan. I cannot stomach another day of sightseeing.”
“You mean your plan. And I already rejected it. We are not holding them hostage.”
“Only me.” Dom grimaced but offered no more arguments. It was Jonathan’s assignment, after all, but his colleague was right.
“No more hiding,” Jonathan agreed. “Join us for supper, and we will say you’ve returned. But stay out of sight today. Miss Darlington is very observant. If she sees you, she will likely recognize you this evening. Just keep an eye out for Wedmore.”
“There they are,” Dom said.
Jonathan’s gaze strayed to Evangeline. Her lemon-yellow parasol blocked the view of her face, but he had memorized her features from the dimples in her cheeks to the tiniest mole just above the left side of her mouth. If he were a master artist, he could recreate her likeness in perfect detail.
With a subtle downward flick of his fingers, he signaled for Dom to check the perimeter for signs of Wedmore while he followed the group toward the Parthenon.
Dom veered to the right as Jonathan picked through the weeds en route to the breathtaking structure with its towering columns. With any luck, the trio wouldn’t notice his approach right away. Perhaps he could overhear something about the ladies’ uncle.
“Is the temple everything you imagined, dearest?” Regina asked, staying a few steps behind with Xavier and allowing Evangeline to guide the exploration.
Jonathan had overheard the trio addressing each other often enough to start thinking of them by their given names. Dom would be appalled.
Evangeline exhaled, gazing up at the partial frieze. “It is stunning, Gigi.”
Jonathan had been similarly overcome the first time he stood on this once sacred ground, feeling tiny and insignificant, his existence but a blink on humanity’s timeline.
“I must admit, even I am awed,” Xavier said, passing Evangeline’s large tote of art supplies to his other hand.
“Record this moment in your travel diary, Evangeline.” Regina lifted her face toward Xavier, smiling playfully. “On this day, the eleventh of August, my husband was impressed.”
“It is not my fault I’m difficult to impress, chérie. My goddess sets a high standard.”
When he rested his hand on the small of her back, Jonathan looked away, an uncomfortable spectator to their casual display of affection.
Evangeline clicked her tongue, her manner teasing as she gathered her tote from Xavier. “While you two make calf eyes at each other, I want to explore on my own.”
She didn’t wait for their consent before setting off on a path around the Parthenon with her art supplies in hand.
“Don’t wander far,” Xavier called.
“Be careful,” Regina added.
Evangeline snorted. “What can happen? You would see if someone carried me down the hill.”
She spun a slow circle to point out the open space and lit up when she saw Jonathan. “Sir Jonathan! You made it. I feared your work might keep you away.”
Her comment twanged a nerve in him. His former fiancée had often accused him of being too absorbed by his work, not realizing he had been diligently trying to protect her.
“Present company and the location are more appealing than my work,” he said.
“I doubt that is true.” Evangeline turned toward her sister and brother-in-law. “Sir Jonathan and I are off to explore.”
Regina inclined her head, the worry line between her brows easing.
Evangeline’s smile widened as she linked arms and guided Jonathan toward the Sanctuary of Zeus Polieus, a roofless structure believed to house oxen for sacrifice.
“I must admit to being very curious about your latest research,” she said as they stopped in the shadow of a column. “I’ve been reading your book and find it fascinating. I would love to explore your thoughts on drumming rituals as they related to ancient warriors returning home from battle.”
A rush of energy flooded through him. His work had always been solitary, and he welcomed a collaboration.
“Nothing would please me more, Miss Darlington. Perhaps after supper this evening?”
“Splendid. Another night of intellectual discourse sounds delightful.”
He couldn’t agree more. He offered to carry her large bag, and she surrendered it.
As they strolled toward the Erechtheion, Jonathan took over the tour, sharing with her what he’d learned about the ruins from his father.
Various groups of travelers ceased their conversations as he spoke, murmuring affirming words such as interesting or brilliant.
Perhaps he hadn’t mingled with the right crowds in London.
When they approached the Porch of Caryatids, Evangeline lowered her parasol and tipped her head back. The sunlight struck her curls, the color reminiscent of a sunset. Her lips were parted as she gazed at the spectacular sculptures—five ladies in Grecian robes supporting the structure.
“Isn’t it the most marvelous work of art you have ever seen?”
He smiled, his gaze never straying from her. “Lovely.”
“Yes, the way they appear to be holding the roof with such grace and ease.” She held her hand out for her sketchbook, oblivious to his true admiration. “I want to sketch them.”
He handed over the tote, chuckling softly.
Her complete absorption in the art was refreshing, even as it bruised his pride.
She barely seemed to register his presence as he offered to hold her parasol while she sat on a rock.
He stood guard, shading her with the parasol, fascinated by her hand flying over the paper and the charcoal recreating their surroundings.
Her talents would be invaluable in the field.
While she worked, he allowed his mind to wander—imagining the two of them together on a dig.
“Evangeline!” Her sister’s sharp tone snapped him out of his reverie, but she kept working.
“Yes, Regina?”
“You’re soiling another gown. The poor maid will be happy when we’re gone.”
“Oh!” She stood quickly, brushing the dust from her backside.
Jonathan’s gaze strayed to her bottom.
Xavier forcefully cleared his throat. Jonathan flinched, heat scorching his face. When he met the other man’s gaze, a mixture of amusement and censure was in his eyes.
“Mind yourself, sir,” he said in French.
Jonathan ducked his head and suggested they tour the amphitheater together as a group.