And one well worth considering.
CHAPTER NINE
“OF ALL THE ancient clutter in Charles’s storage room, I cannot believe you picked that baboon creature.” Gwen glared at Poppy. The ladies had adjourned to the library workroom, making it a point to close and latch the door. It would not do to be overheard or interrupted.
Dulcie had set aside her other work and had already begun preliminary sketches of the immoral baboon. Whether because it was more interesting than the shard of pottery or to annoy Mr. Shepard, Poppy wasn’t sure, although she suspected a bit of both. Mr. Shepard had retreated back to his usual table. Both of them were doing their best not to glance for so much as an instant at the other.
“Why, even I can see the impropriety of that,” Gwen continued. “Dulcie is obviously an innocent. This will be most embarrassing for her.”
“Nonsense, Gwen.” Effie scoffed. “The girl is well past twenty and even if she hasn’t seen something like that—”
“Oh, I don’t believe anyone has seen anything like that,” Poppy murmured.
“She can’t be totally unaware of male anatomy. This cannot be the first artifact she’s seen with exaggerated features. One can stroll any of the ancient galleries at the British Museum and see things far more objectionable. Some of the paintings on Greek pottery are quite explicit. Regardless—” Effie shrugged “—it certainly did not seem to upset her.”
“No, she was entirely too busy being annoyed at Mr. Shepard’s presumptuous attitude.” Poppy turned a firm eye toward Gwen. “Which means my choice was perfect. Something less outrageous might not have produced the same response.”
Poppy would prefer not to explain it to her friends but she really hadn’t noticed the baboon god’s extreme appendage. The light was not good in the storage room and her eyes weren’t quite as sharp as they once were—something else she hated to admit. Besides, she’d only seen the sculpture from the back and had wrapped it in the wool immediately to avoid getting dust on her skirt, although it did now strike her that she had wondered why the thing seemed to have a handle. But it was a good size for their purposes and behind other artifacts so probably would not be missed from among the vast array of items Sir Charles had dragged home from his various travels.
Those mementos Gwen deemed acceptable were displayed throughout their house. Those she thought especially odd or ugly, or for which there was simply no space, were relegated to a private storage room off Sir Charles’s library. Gwen and Effie had charged Poppy with selecting something appropriate to come from the legendary Reginald Everheart while they wrote a brief biography and a few assorted informational documents that might be found in any member’s file to be surreptitiously slipped into the Explorers Club records. Should Mr. Shepard become overly curious in his expected jealousy, there would be a stellar—if brief—account of some of the more intrepid exploits of Reginald Everheart. It really was a shame that the dashing, romantic hero did not exist beyond the fertile realm of Poppy’s—and now Gwen’s and Effie’s—imagination.
Reginald—Poppy always thought of him by his given name—had sprung into glorious existence more than twenty years ago when Malcolm was reluctant to accept his feelings about Poppy. It was obvious to her that the blasted man just needed a gentle shove or perhaps a firm kick in his posterior region. She was right of course. It really hadn’t taken much attention from her imaginary suitor for Malcolm to step up and declare his undying affection. For her part, Poppy promised to give up Reginald as indeed she did. And if, through the years, Malcolm never heard anyone in the Explorers Club mention the name of the incomparable adventurer and if he ever learned of the extraordinary explorer’s less than solid existence, he had never felt it necessary to say anything to his wife. The man was far wiser than he appeared and Poppy loved him with her whole heart and soul.
They had already managed to slip Reginald’s documentation into the Explorers Club files. It wasn’t at all difficult as Mr. Fennell, the club director’s secretary, was easily distracted by the latest gossip, a freshly brewed cup of tea and some of Gwen’s cook’s remarkable biscuits. They also took the opportunity to bring up Reginald’s name, feigning shock that Mr. Fennell—who prided himself on knowing everything there was to know about, well, everything—had not heard of Reginald Everheart. They did go on and on in praise of the imaginary hero and by the end of the conversation, Mr. Fennell realized he was indeed familiar with the American explorer but only by reputation as he was so rarely in London. Poppy was fairly certain a few more minutes of conversation with Gwen alone and Mr. Fennell would have been declaring what good friends he and Reginald were.
Poppy didn’t think all this was necessary. They were simply trying to make Mr. Shepard realize his feelings for Dulcie. But Effie pointed out, if Mr. Shepard thought for even an instant that Reginald did not exist, it would ruin everything. Why, he would probably think Dulcie herself had a role in this scheme and that would be disastrous. And once Effie agreed to take part in any sort of plot, she did so with the single-minded determination of a general leading troops into battle. The influence of her husband no doubt.
“Still.” Gwen’s lips pressed together in a chastising line. “You could have chosen something more appropriate and less offensive.”
“Well, then you should have paid more attention when Effie secured it in the crate,” Poppy said sharply.
Gwen glared. “You had already wrapped it.”
“I wanted to protect it.” Poppy sniffed. “I would imagine it’s extremely valuable. Why, I suspect Sir Charles would be quite upset if any of it was to be chipped or snapped off entirely.”
“It will be back in Charles’s storage room long before he returns home,” Gwen muttered. “Although I daresay he’ll never notice it’s missing. Still, he does have a strong attachment to all of his souvenirs.”
“Regardless, what’s done is done,” Effie said firmly. “And you’re right—as soon as the artifact has served its purpose, and Dulcie and Mr. Shepard have acknowledged their feelings and are walking hand in hand down the path to a happy future, Reginald Everheart will unfortunately be forced to cancel the lecture and exhibit. His baboon will be returned and that will be that.”
“I do hope so.” Gwen sighed. “And we have at least a month until Mr. Shepard joins his expedition.”
“I think it’s an excellent plan, brilliant in its simplicity.” Poppy thought for a minute. It did seem rather perfect. “I can’t imagine it won’t be most successful. Indeed, my dear friends, what could possibly go wrong?”
CHAPTER TEN
“THERE YOU ARE.” Livy stepped out of the parlor, directly in front of Dulcie. “I was just coming up to speak with you.”
“It will have to wait. I’m afraid I lost track of time and you know how Mother is about punctuality, especially when we have guests. Of course, I didn’t know you were the guests.”
“We were an unexpected, spur-of-the-moment addition.”
“Mother hates the unexpected.” Dulcie studied her sister curiously. “Why are you here?”
“Why?” Livy’s eyes widened.
“You were just here a few nights ago.”
Dulcie’s sisters and their husbands had already been here once this week for the obligatory weekly family dinner and rarely, if ever, came more often. Their husbands’ doing no doubt. Dinner with Mother was frequently something to be survived rather than enjoyed. Mother had an appalling tendency toward letting her daughters and their spouses know when she thought they were not living their lives precisely as she thought they should. Father was a moderating influence although he usually simply muttered and nodded, rarely interceding unless Mother was being particularly outrageous.
“Why?” Livy said again then her expression brightened. “My cook is sick. Yes, that’s it. So Thomas and I thought we would join you tonight. Besides, there is nothing I li
ke better than spending time with my parents and beloved younger sister.”
Dulcie stared. “Yes, that’s what I thought.” This was not at all like Livy. “Very well, then we should...” A male voice caught her attention and she peered around her sister to see into the parlor.
Preston sat near the fireplace chatting with someone still out of sight.
“Good Lord.” Dulcie groaned. “Mother invited Preston?”
“So it would appear.” Livy winced. “I did want to warn you. But I should also tell you—”
Another familiar voice sounded and Dulcie’s breath caught. “And is that Michael?”
Livy’s brow rose. “You mean Mr. Shepard?”
“Yes.” Dulcie leaned farther to the side and spotted Michael in conversation with Father and Livy’s husband. The most annoying sense of panic swept through her and she struggled against an irrational need to escape back to her room. It was absurd of course. She had no reason to run. He was the one who had meddled in her business. If anything, he should flee the moment she stepped into the parlor. “What is he doing here?”
“You called him Michael.”
“That’s his name,” Dulcie snapped. “Why is he here?”
“I believe Father invited him for dinner. You know how Father enjoys having those promising young members of the Explorers Club for dinner.” Livy smiled in an overly innocent manner. “Does he call you Dulcie, as well?”
“He most certainly does not.” Dulcie huffed. “And he doesn’t know I think of him as Michael, so I would be grateful if you would keep that to yourself.”
“I won’t say a word.” Livy took her sister’s arm and chuckled. “It’s going to be an interesting evening.”
“I’m glad one of us thinks so.” Dulcie drew a calming breath and let her sister escort her into the room.
“There you are at last.” Mother’s welcoming smile belied the gleam of triumph in her eyes. “Mr. Drummond has agreed to join us tonight.”
“And I understand you already know Mr. Shepard,” Father said. “He tells me the two of you have encountered each other at the Explorers Club.”
Dulcie nodded weakly. She wasn’t sure what to say. What could she say? Here was one man she wanted nothing whatsoever to do with and another she, well, wanted.
Preston and Michael both started toward her but Livy took a quick step to effectively block Preston’s approach. Dulcie could have kissed her.
Michael reached her, took her hand and gazed into her eyes. “You’re looking lovely this evening, Miss Middleworth.”
The oddest shiver of heat ran from his hand up her arm and wrapped around her heart. They had never so much as inadvertently brushed each other’s hands before. A tiny voice in the back of her head noted how perfectly her hand fit in his.
“Thank you,” she said faintly.
Mother’s brow arched upward. Dulcie never said anything faintly. Mother cleared her throat and Michael reluctantly—or at least it seemed reluctant to Dulcie—released her hand.
“You arrived just in time. Dinner was announced a moment ago.” Mother glanced pointedly at Preston. “Mr. Drummond if you would be so good as to escort—”
“Me,” Livy said brightly. “Why, Mr. Drummond and I never have a chance to talk.”
Thomas frowned in confusion. “We’re only going into the dining room.”
“And you should escort Mother.” Livy aimed a hard look at her husband.
Thomas hesitated then mustered a convincing smile. “It would be my pleasure.” He offered his arm. “Shall we, Mother?”
Mother did not look happy even if she managed to keep a smile on her face. “How delightful, Thomas.”
“Which leaves my youngest daughter to you, Mr. Shepard.” Father had obviously taken an instant liking to Michael, or perhaps he’d rather see her on the arm of anyone but Preston. Or he might just enjoy annoying Mother. Father chuckled and followed the others.
Michael offered Dulcie his arm. “Miss Middleworth?”
She took his arm and tried not to swoon at the feel of his hard muscles beneath the fabric of his coat. This was ridiculous. She had never swooned in her life.
“What are you doing here?” she said under her breath.
“I was invited.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried,” he said smoothly.
“Not hard enough.”
“I could leave if you’d prefer.” He paused. “After all, Mr. Drummond is here.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
He chuckled and she had an almost irresistible urge to smack him.
The evening was not nearly as awkward as she had expected. Certainly Mother was annoyed that her obvious plan to push Preston’s suit was not going as she had intended, given there were three more people at dinner than she had expected, but Mother was nothing if not the consummate hostess. She was at all times gracious and charming, chatting as much with Michael as she did with Preston although she missed no opportunity to point out what an exceptional man Preston was. Michael, as well as everyone else at the table with the possible exception of Preston himself, realized Mother’s intentions when they were still on the first course. Every now and then his gaze would catch Dulcie’s and his wonderful, stormy eyes would twinkle with amusement behind his spectacles.
Dinner was something of a revelation. The conversation around the table ranged from scientific discoveries to Trollope’s latest work to keen and often amusing observations about various members of parliament and the government itself. Certainly, she knew Michael had a fine mind from the discussions she’d witnessed in the library but she had no idea he was witty and amusing, as well. He’d always seemed so very serious. It was obvious that Father, as well as Thomas and Livy, were taken with him. Even Mother and Preston appeared to enjoy the evening. This was a Michael she’d never met before, relaxed and friendly and utterly charming.
Mother did her best to steer the conversation to subjects of mutual interest—as she insisted any good hostess would—and they had nearly finished dinner when talk inevitably turned to the Explorers Club.
“I understand you’ll be joining the new Amazon expedition next month,” Father said to Michael.
“The details are not entirely set as to a departure date but I do hope so, sir,” Michael said. “I am quite looking forward to it.”
“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to wander around a hot, nasty jungle filed with all sorts of vile creatures.” Mother shuddered. “Why do you?”
“Curiosity, the lure of the unknown, that sort of thing.” Michael chuckled but his eyes gleamed with sincerity. “There is much man has not yet discovered about the Amazon and the world around it.”
“But surely a man doesn’t just wake up one day and say, ‘I’m off to explore the jungle’?” Genuine interest sounded in Mother’s voice.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I was a boy. I’ve never wanted to do anything else.” Michael paused. “My uncle Henry was an explorer. He taught me to navigate by the stars, to find true north and filled my head with stories of adventure and excitement. He vanished on an expedition to the Amazon when I was ten years of age. My family never knew his fate. After all this time, the possibility of finding any trace of him is futile, but one never knows. I could be lucky.” Michael smiled and took a sip of wine.
“How very thoughtful of you, Mr. Shepard,” Mother said softly, something that sounded suspiciously like admiration in her voice.
“As we are now apparently on the topic of explorers—” Michael turned to Father “—I was wondering, Lord Middleworth, if you are familiar with a Mr. Reginald Everheart? I understand he’s quite accomplished in global exploration.”
“He’s American,” Dulcie said.
“Everheart?” Father drew his brows together and thought f
or a moment. “It does sound familiar.”
“It certainly is a perfect name for a heroic explorer. Reginald Everheart.” Livy said the name slowly as if savoring the sound of it. “Why, it fairly screams of daring adventure and dashing exploits. I daresay, a man with that name would probably be quite handsome, as well.”
Dulcie nodded. “He is reputed to be a fine figure of a man.”
“I knew it.” Livy grinned.
“Perhaps I should change my name to something more adventurous and exciting,” Thomas said wryly, staring at his wife.
“Nonsense. I can’t think of anything more exciting or adventurous than Thomas, Lord Carswell.” Livy flashed him a smile that struck Dulcie as a bit more than merely affectionate. But then they did have three children.
Dulcie glanced at Michael and for no more than the briefest moment, his gaze met hers with a look of utter longing and desire so intense her heart stuttered in her chest. It was over nearly as quickly as it had begun but was long enough. Dulcie knew as surely as she had ever known anything in her life, knew as if he’d said the words aloud, without question, without doubt.
The man did indeed have certain feelings for her.
Then why on earth didn’t he do something about it?
“Lady Blodgett was talking about him today,” Michael said, as if the world had not just shifted off its axis and was now spinning wildly out of control. “Apparently, he’s rarely in London but is to give a lecture here sometime in the future. They were rather vague about the details. Lady Blodgett, Mrs. Higginbotham and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said Mr. Everheart is quite well-known although I confess I have never heard of him.”
“I have never paid the least bit of attention to such things,” Mother said, “but the name sounds familiar to me, as well. Perhaps he’s joined us for dinner?”
The Rise and Fall of Reginald Everheart Page 7
