Reckless

by Shannon Drake

  “Go to bed!” he told her, and he was afraid that his voice was not in the least cordial.

  She turned and did as he commanded.

  The chair was uncomfortable. The pillow did help.

  It was better than pacing his own cabin, listening through the night. At last, he slept.

  THE MORNING BROUGHT UTTER chaos, or so it seemed, though Camille assured Kat that there was actually some organization somewhere. It seemed there were hundreds of boxes and trunks to be transferred from one conveyance to another, and the transfers had to be done by cart. It was all going to take some time.

  They’d hired a number of carriages to take them from the docks to the train station, leaving the hands, French and English, to move the cargo. They stopped to eat at a lovely restaurant near the shore, and Kat realized that it was a meeting spot. A number of fashionably dressed people were at various tables, and one elegant, slim woman with silver hair and a lorgnette called out to Hunter.

  “Why, as I live and breathe! Hunter, dear Hunter!”

  Kat thought that he groaned. He lowered his head, then excused himself from their table and approached the other. The woman rose; he kissed her on the cheek. She seemed very anxious to give him some news, and after acknowledging the other women at the table, he sat for a moment.

  “Princess Lavinia!” Camille whispered.

  “Princess?” Kat echoed.

  Camille nodded. “She married a Greek prince—she was born a MacDonald.”

  “So she’s…”

  “Hunter’s great-aunt.”

  At that moment, Hunter arose, indicating their table with a sweep of his hand. Camille waved. Hunter beckoned.

  “It seems she wishes to speak with you,” Kat said.

  “He’s calling you, Kat,” Camille told her.

  “Ah.” She rose, forcing a smile. Hunter reached out for her, drawing her near. “Lavinia, please meet Katherine Adair, my fiancée. Kat, I’m delighted that we’ve run into my great-aunt Lavinia, Princess of Ragh.”

  “My pleasure, Your Highness.”

  “Dear child!” Lavinia seemed thrilled, fascinated. “Good heavens, I was beginning to believe that the line would die out with Hunter. Too many girls, you see. You will have sons, won’t you, dear?”

  “Aunt Lavinia—” Hunter tried to stop her. To no avail.

  “You’re truly quite lovely. No title?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “It’s not what one might imagine, anyway,” Lavinia said breezily. “Hunter, Jacob MacDonald died last week.”

  “Jacob!” Hunter seemed deeply disturbed. “How? The lad was only twenty!”

  “The same disease that plagued him as a child. You do know what it means?” she asked gently.

  “It means a young, gentle and very good man is dead,” Hunter said.

  Lavinia sighed. “And it is a tragedy. I had not seen him in forever, living in France as I was, and he and his mother up north of Edinburgh. Truly, it is sad, and I know that you’ll mourn him.” She looked at Kat. “What he isn’t saying is that when my dear elder brother passes from the earth, the title will go to Hunter.”

  “What title?”

  “Duke of Kenwillow. Not a large holding, but, nevertheless, quite respectable.”

  “My great-uncle Percy is in excellent health, and I believe he’ll live to be 110. And I hope that he does,” Hunter said.

  “Bravo!” Lavinia said. “So, you’re headed off to Egypt again?” she asked.

  “Yes, Aunt Lavinia. The train leaves in just a few hours.”

  Lavinia grinned. “Perhaps I’ll be on it. Go…shoo, have your luncheon, Hunter. I shall stop at the table and tell dear Lord Avery and young Carlyle hello just as soon as I’ve finished my tea. Fascinating. Yes, maybe I will head to Cairo, too!”

  “Lovely,” Hunter said, urging Kat back toward their own table.

  “She’s really your aunt?” Kat murmured.

  “Great-aunt, yes. And quite a girl at that. She has traveled the globe. So it’s likely that she will manage to be on the train. Let’s order, shall we? We’ve some tedious time ahead.”

  The food was excellent, and Lavinia did join them, after saying ta-ta to her group of friends. She seemed to have known Lord Avery for quite some time, and delighted in baiting him. Margaret seemed to relish the interaction between the two, laughing each time Lavinia said something tart to her father. Everyone at the table, in fact, including Alfred, Robert, Allan and David, enjoyed the tartness of the conversation.

  At last, the men left to see that the trunks and personal baggage had been loaded. Lavinia declared her pleasure with the lot of them. “I simply despise women who sit at home and believe the world will come to them! The world is out there and ours to take! So, we will all ride out on expedition.”

  “Actually, I’d intended to remain at the hotel,” Margaret said.

  “When there are discoveries to be made?” Lavinia demanded.

  “Um, I prefer to discover being waited upon,” Margaret admitted. But that seemed to please Lavinia, as well.

  “And, of course, there is the fine art of watching those who come and go from the hotel,” Lavinia said.

  “Watching people?” Margaret asked.

  “Oh, that is an expedition of discovery in itself,” Lavinia assured her. “Well! I shall have to make arrangements. I don’t want the train to leave without us. It is time to board.”

  THE TRAIN WAS QUITE ELEGANT, actually, but no matter how well appointed, it remained a train.

  Hunter had seen to it that his compartment was next to Kat’s. Camille and Brian had the sleeping compartment behind his, while Emma was just in front of Kat.

  The men went to assure themselves that all was loaded properly, and Lavinia, who had indeed managed to join the group, seemed to be well aware of the arrangements. “Bless Lord Avery,” she told the women, “because he hires his own cars, and we won’t have to be transferring here and there and everywhere. It will still be tedious, children, but much nicer than if we were average tourists hoping to catch this train or that!”

  Kat knew that she would have been happy to be an average tourist, for she had never been anywhere. Their compartments were small, but the car ahead, the club car—again, specifically hired for the comfort of Lord Avery—was quite pleasant, fitted out with sofas, a bar and beautiful little cherrywood tables, specifically for tea.

  At last, they were off, and they gathered in the club car. Lavinia, who often did the season in Cairo, as it turned out, spoke about the wonders of the sights. “The trip down the Nile is exquisite. And the Valley of the Kings!”

  “We won’t be taking the trip down the Nile,” Hunter said.

  Lavinia’s face fell. “Oh, dear, you can’t combine work with a lovely vacation?”

  “We’re going to dig,” Hunter reminded her.

  “Perhaps there will be time somewhere for a few excursions,” Lord Avery said, both amused and exasperated by the woman.

  “For some of us, perhaps,” Hunter said.

  “We are students, after all,” Robert Stewart said. “Shouldn’t we be learning?”

  “We learn as we dig!” Alfred Daws said seriously.

  “And yet,” David Turnberry said softly, looking at Kat, “every once in a while, there must be a break from work. And there must be a time of a day, and a time of truth.”

  He was looking at Kat. She felt extremely uncomfortable. And so she turned back to their bawdy, titled newcomer. “Lavinia, have you actually ever worked a dig?” she asked.

  “Good heavens, yes! I have ridden camels across a sea of sands, delved into the dirt and the wind. It’s magnificent!”

  Tea was served by a Frenchman in resplendent attire, and suddenly, to Kat, this seemed like the greatest adventure in the world. And by day’s end, there hardly appeared even so much as a note of discord among any of them.

  The following afternoon, they stopped in Paris, and there were joined by the art instructor from Oxford, Mr. Thomas
Atworthy. He was an elderly fellow, around Lord Avery’s age, but sprightly and interested in everything around him. His tongue could be as tart as Lavinia’s, and he was definitely Bohemian, having little regard for titles and wealth.

  “So, you are my student!” he said to Kat, looking her up and down. “Your father is the fellow creating such a stir back home!” He peered more closely at her. “You will receive no pat on the back from me if you try to work off the laurels of another.”

  “I’ve no intention of doing so.”

  “And you’re to be married. Does that mean that I am wasting my time?”

  “I hope that marriage will not prevent me from seeing, or lifting a pencil or a brush,” she replied. He seemed pleased with that. He wanted to take her walking in Paris, to see how she managed to sketch some of the sights. That wasn’t possible, even though Margaret and Camille both brought up the possibility of a lovely afternoon in the glorious city before they moved on. But the men did not want to linger.

  So Kat’s only view of the exquisite city was from the station and through the windows of the train. Soon they were traveling again, and the countryside stretched before them.

  In the first days, Hunter was at her side for all social occasions, and she wondered if he hadn’t simply acquired such an acute distaste for David Turnberry that he had determined that she would not be anywhere near him. He played his part as her fiancé rather well, and as each day passed, she realized that it was not at all unpleasant to have such a man as Sir Hunter as her intended.

  Several times, she found herself pressed between a hallway wall and David when they were headed in opposite directions. He would linger ever so slightly against her every time, his eyes speaking volumes of pain and accusation. They were still such beautiful eyes. She was so sorry to have hurt him.

  The nights were quiet.

  They had just crossed the border into Italy when the tutor, Thomas Atworthy, decided that Kat must begin lessons, something not particularly easy with the train in constant motion. But he sat with her in the club car, pencils and paper at hand, teaching her about shadow and shading, giving her his disgruntled approval when she produced sketches, telling her that art was not just what was seen in the one dimension, but what went on in the depths. She discovered that crusty as the fellow might appear on the surface, underneath he was very kind and knowledgeable, and she became most fond of him.

  They were moving into Tuscany, with its glorious views, when she found herself sketching the scene she remembered from the station in Paris. Camille had come into the club car and watched with wonder.

  “That’s incredible!” Camille murmured.

  “No, it’s not,” Thomas countered. “The shading here is lacking. And here! What have we spoken about all week, my dear Miss Adair! I wish to see depth. Life, the action that occurs beyond the obvious!”

  “No, no!” Camille said. “That’s…I looked out the window that day, and you have drawn what I saw. Quite perfectly, really. So much detail. How did you do that?”

  Kat looked at her sheepishly and shrugged. “I have that sort of memory. Most often, for little snatches of things…I don’t know. But what I remember, I usually do with accuracy.”

  Camille reached for her arm, drawing her to her feet. “Mr. Atworthy, forgive me. I’m going to steal your pupil for the afternoon.”

  “That’s quite all right. I was ready for brandy and a cigar. Oh, dear Lord! Here comes Lavinia. Well, it will not be a peaceful cigar, that is all I have to say!”

  Ignoring the professor, Camille dragged Kat through the cars and back to her compartment. It was the largest of the sleeping accommodations, naturally, for they were two, and also, they were the Earl and Countess of Carlyle. There was a large table to one side of the compartment, and all kinds of maps and papers were spread out on it. Camille produced a clean sketch pad and sat Kat down at the table.

  Kat looked at her expectantly.

  “Do you remember the day we met?” Camille asked.

  “Of course,” Kat said. “At the museum. You were working with a map.”

  “Yes, well, that map has quite disappeared. Do you think you could reproduce it?”

  “You can’t just acquire another?”

  Camille shook her head. “That map was nearly a hundred years old. It was the work of one of the first eminent British Egyptologists to go into the country after Napoléon was defeated. He had access to documents we’ll never see again. There were little landmarks sketched in on it. Would you see what you can remember of them? Oh, I know that I am asking the impossible. But would you try?”

  Kat nodded. At first, her fingers hesitated on the paper. She felt that she wavered as she tried to draw coastlines and natural features. But then, when she had the base of the project sketched in, she began to remember. It was almost as if the map had been etched into a permanent place in her mind.

  Camille stood silently by her side.

  They were both so intent on the work that they jumped when the door to the compartment opened. Brian strode in, followed by Hunter.

  Brian arched a brow. Camille’s hand was at her throat.

  “What on earth have we interrupted?” Hunter asked.

  “Look!” Camille announced with pleasure. “Kat is recreating my map!”

  Hunter crossed to Kat’s side, studying what she had drawn. Their gazes met briefly, and she was pleased to see that he seemed to consider what she had done quite remarkable.

  “I can’t testify to any accuracy,” she said.

  She looked down quickly, saw his hands. He had wonderful hands. Ever so slightly bronzed, for he eschewed gloves when riding. His fingers were long, his nails clipped neatly. The clench of his fist was powerful, she was certain, and the touch of his fingertips could be…

  She cleared her throat, looking over at Camille. “There may be more. I think I should stop now and take a look at it again in the morning.”

  “Fine. And actually, we’ll be off the train tonight, in hotel rooms! The world will stand still for a bit,” Camille said.

  “Is this so important, then?” Kat asked.

  “It may be,” Camille said. She looked at Hunter. “Of course…it won’t be perfectly accurate.”

  “We three know what we are looking for in the desert sands,” Hunter said. “And we all know how hard it can be. Even if we had something that was perfectly accurate, it doesn’t mean we would make a discovery.”

  “Well, with the loss of the map, it is the best that we have,” Camille reminded them.

  Hunter looked at Kat again. “Yes, it is.”

  There was a tap at the door. It was Lavinia, they quickly discovered, for she didn’t wait to be invited in but opened the door. “Tea, children! Do come. We wile away the next few hours and then we’ll have made Rome at last!”

  BETWEEN THEM, LORD AVERY, Brian and Hunter had determined their course and decided that one night in Rome would do no harm, though the closer they came, the more eager they were to reach their destination.

  There were elegant hotel rooms on the Via Veneto where the ladies might have time to enjoy long soaks in baths, and where they could sleep one good night before the rocking of the train and the motion of the ship on the journey to Brindisi and then to Alexandria. Kat’s room was connected to a spacious, elegant parlor, with Hunter in a room across the parlor. Lavinia was at her other side, and Emma in the smaller quarters just beyond her, with the Avery and Carlyle suites just across and the others spread out beyond them. Though she had been raised listening to a great deal of French and had certainly been tutored in the language, Italian was new to her. How she loved the sound of the language! And Rome…Rome was magnificent, with so much that was ancient.

  When everyone had taken time to rest, bathe and refresh, they were to meet in the elegant parlor between Kat and Hunter’s rooms. Soaking in a long bath had been delicious, but Kat was not accustomed to too much creature comfort, and so she was quickly ready. She found that Camille had brought the sketch p
ad to the parlor, and she opened it, viewing her drawing of the map as she remembered it. Sitting there, contemplating, she remembered a series of little waving lines and put them in. There had been symbols in certain areas, and she began to recall more and more.

  There was a tap at the door and she answered it. David, Alfred and Allan stood there. “Where is the fourth Musketeer?” she asked teasingly.

  “Ah, gone to fetch Lady Margaret and her father,” Alfred said, striding in, smiling. She still felt somewhat uneasy when he looked at her.

  “There’s coffee in that samovar,” she said, directing them to a tray that had been set on the end of the piano. “Delicious. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything quite so delicious as Italian coffee.” She shut up, determined that she was not going to babble because they made her nervous. Pretending that they were all friends and nothing had ever happened, however, was very difficult.

  David looked at her, trying to smile, offering his usual pained gaze. She smiled in return. Meanwhile, Alfred was standing before her sketch.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  She walked over to close the book. “Oh, just something I’m working on, not very good,” she said.

  “Oh, but it is!” Alfred reached for the book. She held tight, smiling through clenched teeth.

  “Really, it’s not!”

  “But it is! Oh, please, Kat, let us see your work!”

  “Yes, do, please!” David had come over, as well. Everyone, it seemed, had a hand on the book.

  She could continue wrestling for it or simply let go. She chose the latter.

  They set the book back down on the table, opening to the page of the map. They all stared at it for several long seconds, then back up at her.

  “That’s quite incredible. You can copy anything so?” Alfred asked. “What a talent.”

  “That’s hardly talent, I’m just copying,” she murmured.

  “Where is the original?” Allen asked.

  “Oh, lost in a pile of paperwork, I believe,” she said lightly. There was a tapping on the door again. “Excuse me,” she murmured. But the door had already opened. Lavinia, of course, in a lovely blue gown that complemented her silver hair. She carried a parasol and a light traveling cape.