Chapter 22 #2
“An archaeologist, you say.”
“That is how we met, actually,” Henry continues. “We both attended Oxford at the same time and attended a few lectures together.” Henry glances directly into my eyes. “Then we fell in love and got married shortly after.”
Briefly, I allow myself to get lost in his eyes, his smile, thinking for a split second that this is real. Then disappointment hits me as I remember we are still acting, that the look on his face isn’t real.
My father directs his gaze toward the window. “I never understood why your grandfather encouraged you to go to Oxford,” he says, not hiding the disdain in his voice. “Nonetheless, why did he let you go on this expedition while in your condition?”
He shakes his head, then turns his piercing gaze back to us. “Now that you’re settled down and expecting, I thought you would be putting all this academic nonsense behind you.”
A deadpan expression rests on his face, as if it’s expected for me to forgo my dreams once I get married and become a mother. Why wouldn’t he think otherwise? Society upheld the notion that women would never be anything beyond a wife and mother for centuries.
Still, hearing my father’s true thoughts about me and how I live my life catches me off guard.
From the accusatory look he gives Henry, I know he is scorning him for not putting me in my place, which makes me wonder how long he has held these opinions—how many times he bickered with Grandad over them.
His sentiment on the matter is not something that spurs in a matter of seconds, but one that has festered and simmered for years.
He never had the audacity to say it to my face before.
It looks as though I finally know who my father truly is.
The worst of it all is that Henry is here to witness my father’s cruel callousness.
I’m stunned into silence by his spiteful words.
Unable to look him in the eye, I stare at his forehead instead.
I will not give him the satisfaction of showing how his words hurt me by looking away.
I wish I had the voice to speak up and defend myself, tell him he lost his right to opine on my life nineteen years ago when he abandoned me.
But my mind and body are immobilized by shock, like a knife has pierced my chest.
“That is very much not the case, Major General,” Henry affirms. “I would never force Clara to push her dreams and desires aside. In fact, I encourage her to pursue them.”
I look agape at him, dumbstruck by his swiftness to defend me. Henry squeezes my hand and gives me a soft smile, signaling that he has my back.
Then he glances at my father, his smile gone. “Your daughter is an extraordinary woman, Major General. It would be a massive disservice to the field of history and archaeology to make her step away from it. Maybe if you got to know her, you would see that, too.”
My heart beats rapidly from hearing his words.
I know we are acting, pretending to be a married couple, but somehow, I believe in the words he says to my father.
The fact that he did not hesitate for a second to correct him and defend me makes me want to pull him into a tight embrace.
No one besides Grandad has ever come to my defense—ever voiced that I’m as intelligent and worthy as any man, that I deserve my place in the academic field.
And that is when I realize it.
Henry Ashford sees me, understands me, and ultimately, respects me.
I glance at Henry. My eyes scan across his beautiful face as my breath escapes my lips. With my heart fluttering erratically beneath my chest, I not only see him so clearly now—I also understand my feelings for him.
“My god,” I mutter to myself.
I cannot deny it. I am heart-achingly in love with Henry Ashford—my academic rival, the one person whom I’ve despised for years. And yet, I have loved him for weeks without realizing it, so foolishly blind that it only dawns on me in this very moment.
Naturally, I chose the most inconvenient time in my life to fall in love.
I’d think being bound to god-like powers and hunted by a villainous archaeologist wouldn’t make it the most opportune time to have such an epiphany, or to daringly act upon my feelings.
Instead, I push this realization and burning hatred toward my father aside. Now is not the time to entertain distractions—not when danger still lurks, and lives are at risk.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Henry says, standing and offering his hand. “We should get going. Thank you for your time and protection, Major General.”
Mindlessly, I follow Henry out of the office, my eyes fixated on him in awe.
He bravely challenged my father in his own domain, without giving a damn about the ramifications for doing so.
I’m so lost in my own mind that I walk right into Henry’s back—not noticing he’d stopped dead in his tracks.
I follow his stunned gaze across the room and feel my heart about to burst from terror.
“Oh, hello there!” Dr. Richmond exclaims cheerfully, a bright grin shining on his face. He rises from the settee we sat in not too long ago and takes a few calculated steps closer.
I grasp onto Henry’s hand in a desperate attempt to maintain my composure.
“What a small world to find you here,” he says.
But we both know it isn’t. He’s been searching relentlessly for us; it was only a matter of time before he not only caught up to us, but was one step ahead of us, too.
This play by Richmond is a calculated one on his part, proving that we never had a chance to outrun him, nor is there any place safe from his grasp.
I should have suspected what was happening when we hadn’t encountered another Mr. Meier upon our arrival at Dover.
“How do you know my daughter, Alan?” my father asks behind me.
“Only recently,” he replies, eyes fixed on us, an eerie smile playing on his face, knowing we’ve been found. Then he looks back at my father. “Our paths crossed in Venice.”
“Small world indeed,” my father says. I can hear a slight suspicion in his voice.
My father places a hand on Dr. Richmond’s back, politely ushering him inside his office. “Now, what is this urgent matter you wanted to discuss with me?” he asks as he closes his office door, leaving Henry and me to stand aghast by Ms. Wilkes.
Suspicions and theories start running chaotically in my mind, but that gets trampled away by one utter thought.
Run.