Twelve
Once Evangeline and Sir Jonathan were alone, he retrieved the half-empty jug of wine from the table and snagged the goblets they had used during the meal. “Shall we?” he asked.
Evangeline held out her hand to take the jug and linked arms when he surrendered it.
Like most homes in the neighborhood, the courtyard was located behind the house. A tall stone wall, a lasting tribute to the masons who built it centuries earlier, provided privacy from passersby in the service alley.
A balmy gust swept over her as they stepped into the night.
The sea breeze kissed her cheeks and stirred the wispy curls at her temples.
As torch flames danced in the wind, casting ever-shifting shadows across the wall and flat stone beneath their feet, she inhaled, closing her eyes to savor the salty scent.
“After the sun sets,” she said, “I often think I never wish to leave this place.”
“Then you realize it is a passing fancy, because there are many more cities waiting to be explored. Please, correct me if I’m wrong.”
How observant he was. She struggled to suppress a pleased smile and failed.
Sir Jonathan wasn’t looking at her, though, and he couldn’t know the effect he had on her. He was studying the star-filled sky, so she indulged her whims for a moment.
He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. With his prominent cheekbones and strong chin, he was a sculptor’s dream. His body was lean, yet substantial, his strength visible in the sinewy muscles his trousers couldn’t hide.
“You are not wrong about me,” she said. “I inherited my uncle’s curiosity.”
“I thought as much.” He led her toward a bench located beneath an orange tree.
“Perhaps I should endeavor to be more mysterious.”
“I hope you never change.” His serious gaze settled on her, and she couldn’t catch her breath properly.
“Wh-why…is that?"
They sat side-by-side on the granite seat. It was barely wide enough for both of them. A cozy spot for lovers. She drummed her fingers against the stone and tried to strike the thought from her mind.
“If you want an honest answer,” Sir Jonathan said and handed her a goblet in exchange for the jug of wine, “I find it invigorating to meet a woman who employs no pretense.”
She scrunched her nose. Perhaps he would think differently if he knew what she kept from him. “I sound very boring.”
“Not to me.” He poured wine into her glass before filling his own.
She sipped her wine. “Now you’ve stirred my curiosity, Sir Jonathan. What other observations have you made about me?”
He laughed. “This sounds like a trap. I’ll say something foolish and earn your wrath.”
“I am too logical to be quick tempered. Carry on.”
He placed the jug of wine on the ground and swiveled on the bench, his knee brushing hers. Her pulse quickened. In his presence, the need to be admired for her intellect continually volleyed with her wish to be desired as a woman. Now, she simply wanted him to want her.
“You don’t strike me as a woman who is eager to put down roots.”
She furrowed her brow. “Don’t I seem like the type?”
“You’re different from most women I encounter. I must admit, I find you fascinating.”
“How so?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never met a woman willing to abandon the comforts of home to live in a tent for months on end, aside from my mother.”
“Well, I am different in that sense. I crave learning enough to sleep under the stars. I also believe it is possible to lay down roots wherever you are.”
“Please, enlighten me.”
She glanced toward the sitting room she shared with her family, her stomach fluttering.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget what Xavier said earlier.
A gentleman wanted to know when his courtship was welcomed.
She certainly wouldn’t chase Sir Jonathan away if he set his heart on her, but it was a delicate topic, and no one had ever accused her of being too subtle in her communication. Quite the opposite.
“When you mention roots,” she said, “I imagine you are referring to marriage and children. It’s what most women aspire to at my age. Some might even suggest I’m becoming too long in the tooth to marry.”
“That’s ridiculous. Your teeth are perfect,” he said and winked.
A pleasant warmth washed over her. He was too flirtatious by half.
She should upbraid him for his audacity, but she was enjoying their little dance.
She felt like her younger sister for a moment, a diamond of the first water.
While suitors had flocked to Sophia to compete for her attention in the ballroom, Evangeline had always frightened them away.
The men seemed too afraid of what she might say.
Sometimes her bluntness scared her, too.
His smile faded, leaving traces of softness on his face. “You said marriage is for most young women. Does that mean you are not interested in finding a husband of your own?”
“Now, Sir Jonathan, every antiquarian knows it is never wise to draw conclusions without adequate evidence.”
“Of course.” He grinned. “Perhaps some gentleman will be lucky enough to catch your eye someday?”
She toyed with a strand of her hair, her confidence blossoming.
Their conversation certainly sounded as if it were on the brink of a courtship.
“I’m not opposed to marriage or motherhood, but I have no intentions of settling for a typical union.
To be frank, I didn’t exert much effort into husband hunting in London.
My time was occupied with preparing to join my uncle in the field. "
“You crave adventure,” Sir Jonathan said.
“Indeed, but I believe marriage itself can be a wonderful adventure when two people are well suited to one another.”
“I am coming around to your way of thinking, Miss Darlington.”
Giddiness fizzled inside her, rising like champagne bubbles to the surface. She couldn’t wait to tell her sister about this promising conversation. Who knew when they had set off for Athens Evangeline would cross paths with a man so perfectly suited for her?
“We spoke of my work earlier,” Sir Jonathan said. “I want to know more about yours. What inspired you to study ancient warfare?”
She angled her body toward him on the bench. “Have you ever heard of The Art of War by Sun Tzu? It was translated into French in the late seventeen hundreds.”
“I’m familiar with it. Do you read French?”
“I comprehend it better than I speak it, but when I discovered the book in my uncle’s library, I hadn’t been reading English for long when my sisters and I went to live with Uncle Charles.”
“Your brother-in-law told me. My sympathies on the loss of your parents, Miss Darlington.”
She inclined her head, accepting his condolences. “It was a long time ago, and I only have fond memories of Papa and Mama. My sisters and I have been well-loved and cared for all our lives.”
“That is lovely,” he murmured.
“It really is.” She sighed, wishing she could’ve had more time with her parents, even though her uncle and great-aunt were wonderful.
“I had trouble settling in at night at first,” she said. “New bed and all that. Uncle Charles read to me from The Art of War until I grew tired. He summarized it in English, of course.”
Sir Jonathan cocked his head. “And your uncle thought Chinese military tactics were appropriate bedtime reading for a young girl?”
Evangeline chuckled. “Well, not exactly, but I was very stubborn about it. He had promised that I could choose any book I wanted, if I stayed in bed after my great-aunt tucked me in. Uncle Charles doesn’t break his promises without a compelling reason.”
“It sounds like he was good to you.”
“Yes, my sisters and I were fortunate to have a guardian like Uncle Charles. I suppose I would be a different person altogether if it weren’t for him. I doubt Mama would have cultivated my interests in warfare.”
“That explains the origins of your interest, but what is it about the study of warfare that resonates with you?”
“I cannot say exactly.” She tapped the corner of her mouth, considering his question.
“Maybe I want to make the world a better place. Conflict is born of action and reaction. Understanding past leaders’ motivations, strategies, tactics, and the consequences of those decisions improves one’s ability to predict outcomes of future battles. Or diffuse them before they begin.”
“How does this knowledge apply to modern warfare when ancient civilizations didn’t have access to the same weapons?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “The motives never change, even when the weapons do. One side wishes to assert power over the other and raid their resources, and the other side fights to keep their independence and protect wh—”
A prickling sensation began at the back of her neck. “What…is…” She shifted on the bench, checking the house to see if they were being watched. Sir Jonathan turned, too.
“What is it?” he asked.
She half expected to see her sister or brother-in-law spying on them from the bedchamber window, but only a sliver of light peeked through the split where the curtain panels met.
“Is something wrong, Miss Darlington?”
She couldn’t shake the trickle of unease just below her skin. “I don’t know.”
Lord Dominic’s windows were shuttered for the night.
Her gaze paused on the double glass doors that led to her own assigned bedchamber before the compulsion to look over her shoulder grabbed her.
The neighboring villa across the service alley stood in silence, its windows like gaping holes of blackness in the white stucco walls.
“Evangeline.” When Sir Jonathan touched her arm, she startled.
She blinked his face into focus. His brows dropped low on his forehead; a flicker of torchlight reflected in his eyes. Her mouth felt dry.
“D-do you ever have the feeling you’re being watched?”
Sir Jonathan frowned, rising from the bench to scan the area. “Do you feel it now?”
“Yes.” A shiver passed through her.
“Stay here while I check the street.” He stalked toward the weathered gate nestled into an arched opening in the wall.
“No, don’t.”