“I don’t know, miss. These things come all the way from Egypt, you know. Dug up from under the sand in some ancient mummy’s tomb. Who knows what heathen purpose they were for.”
“I’m sure the ancient Egyptians gave gifts to the living, just like we do. Don’t you have anyone special who might give you a trinket now and then?”
“Nobody ever gave me nothing like any of this, miss. Like I said, this ain’t just ordinary trinkets. His lordship don’t let just anyone in to see them, as a matter of fact. Seems like only gentlemen with plenty of bob.”
“Oh? But he’s opened the room for ladies tonight.”
“And it was only after much bellowing at poor Miss Lettice, let me tell you! Scared her little dog, too. Poor thing. It wasn’t his fault he got locked in that other room all day and no one could find him. He couldn’t help but make the nasty. The master said at first there would be no ladies’ retiring room. Her ladyship was quite appalled, I can tell you. But in the end, Pug went up to his pillow and the master said ladies could use this room tonight if they had need of it. And do you need it, miss? If you’re feeling faint, there are salts here, on the table. If you have difficulties with your gown, I can assist you and—”
“No, thank you. I merely needed a bit of air, that’s all. Such a crowd in the music room tonight. It was feeling a bit close.”
“Yes, Miss Burlington and Miss Lettice do have very many friends. And what lovely music they make, don’t you think, miss?”
“Er, it’s like none other.”
The maid laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly what his lordship said about it!”
“Then their father is more aware of his daughters’ talents than I knew.”
“Oh, I don’t mean Lord Burlington. No, he never says nothing kindly about their music. I meant a different lord.”
“You often discuss your mistresses’ musical abilities with gentlemen?”
“Of course not, but that’s why it is so funny. Here I am discussing it with you, and you have said the very same thing Lord Harry said when I discussed it with him just today.”
“Lord Harry? Are you in service to him, as well?”
She hoped her words didn’t imply quite enough to be vulgar, but she simply couldn’t keep herself from asking. The maid’s response would no doubt reveal all.
Really, though, the maid’s dimpling titter revealed very little. “Oh no! We were riding in his carriage.”
Bother. That much Penelope already knew, didn’t she? What she longed to know was why was this maid riding in Lord Harry’s carriage.
“I asked if he would be here tonight for the musicale, and he said he’d been rather undecided.” She giggled again. “That’s how he said it, too, in his very fine way; ‘raw-ther undecided.’ He’s such a gentleman, Lord Harry.”
Well, then clearly the girl did not know him so very well after all.
“I take it you were unable to persuade him,” Penelope noted. “I don’t see him here tonight.”
“No, I suppose not. I thought perhaps I had persuaded him, as he seemed more than eager to have me tell him all about the master’s collection here. Quite amazed by it, he seemed.”
“Oh? Lord Harry is interested in Egyptian antiquities?”
“I don’t know about that. He simply said the way I described it all made it sound ‘raw-ther enchawn-ting.’ He said I have a natural way with words.”
“Did he? How nice.” She wondered what other “enchawn-ting” things Lord Harry claimed the girl had a natural way with.
“He said he’d love to come to the musicale and get a look at the collection for himself, but I had to explain Lord Burlington always keeps this room locked up.”
“It’s not locked now,” Penelope pointed out.
“No, but only because poor Puggy got locked in the other room and made shame-shame on the carpets. I didn’t know that was going to happen when I talked to Lord Harry.”
“Ah, so he did not know there would be access to this room.”
“Pity. Perhaps if he knew he could see the collection he would have come tonight.”
“I’m sure he had very good reason not to be here tonight,” Penelope said.
After all, he would have surely known she herself would be here, yet he stayed away. Clearly the man had some pressing business elsewhere tonight. Probably he knew this little maid would be busy working so he found himself someone else to provide entertainment. After all, Lord Harry was hardly the type to go out of his way to gaze at some long-buried bric-a-brac.
“Well, miss, if you don’t be needing me I’d best get back out to my bench. Her ladyship was awfully concerned someone might go the wrong way and wander into the other room and catch sight of the wretched floor conditions. She made me promise I’d keep watch and direct guests the right way.”
“That’s fine, yes. Thank you.”
The maid stepped toward the door to make her exit, but seemed to remember something at the last minute.
“One thing more, miss,” she said, somewhat tentative. “My mistress was all a’worry for her floors, but my master cares only for his collection here. If you don’t mind, he made me promise to ask anyone who entered here to please not touch anything.”
“Very well. I’ll keep my hands to myself. I’m only here for the air, after all.”
The girl curtsied before leaving. “Thank you, miss.”
Finally Penelope was alone with the treasures. What beauty! But that delicate jar and its exquisite spoon had left her confused. Could all of this be authentic? Or had Lord Burlington fallen prey to the many forgers she heard were out there looking to take advantage of the uneducated with heavy pockets? From what she knew of him, Lord Burlington was certainly that.
Surely if any of these items were illegitimate someone would want to know about it. If only she’d brought some paper with her she might take down some notes of what she saw here; she might record pertinent details that could possibly help to bring the forgers to justice. My, but wouldn’t that be quite a tale to tell Professor Oldham? And perhaps even Anthony might take her interest in Egyptology a bit more seriously if she could in some way prevent other gentlemen from being duped.
Well, there was a desk in the far corner of the room. Perhaps she could find writing implements and make some quick observations. She darted over to the desk and hurried through its drawers, finding what she needed right away. And to think, she’d been ready to consider this evening a sad waste of time!
She sat at the desk—wishing someone had thought to put a light at this end of the room—and was just about to make her first mark on the paper when a sound caught her attention. She glanced up, but the room was still empty and the door was still closed, just the way the tittering maid had left it. It almost seemed she had imagined the noise, until she heard it again.
It came from the window, on the other side of the room. Not quite a tapping, Penelope could only determine it was more of a scraping sound. And now the curtains began to move, rustled by a sudden brush of air from outside. The sound continued and it was all too obvious exactly what it was.
A burglar was breaking into Lord Burlington’s treasure room!
DAMN. BURLINGTON’S BLASTED WINDOWSILL SNAGGED his trousers and gave him a rather uncomfortable splinter in a decidedly uncomfortable place. Harris hoisted himself into the room and was careful not to utter any of his mental profanity out loud.
He failed miserably when something heavy wacked him on the back of the head.
“Bloody hell! What the devil…”
And then he saw the wielder of this something heavy. Penelope.
“Penelope?”
“Lord Harry?”
The deceptively delicate female looked quite as stunned as he felt. She did not seem quite as dizzy as he felt, however, which he counted a good thing since at the moment he was doing well to keep himself upright. If he’d had to nobly dash out an arm to save a wobbly Penelope, he was quite certain they’d have both tumbled to the floor.
“What on earth are you doing climbing in through Lord Burlington’s window?” she asked.
“Ah, Miss Rastmoor,” he said, cleverly avoiding an answer to her question. “How very pleasant to see you. And how nice that you’ve decided to strike me only once with that, er, object.”
She blinked once at him, then twice, then her gaze shifted to the item in her hands. It was Egyptian. It was made of ornately carved wood. It was easily recognizable as being from a tomb he and Oldham had excavated together. More importantly, it was an overlarge phallus.
Miss Rastmoor, of course, could have no idea what she’d just clubbed him with. She did, however, seem instantly remorseful. As was he. Blast it, but the throbbing bump she’d given him at the back of his head pounded dreadfully.
“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “Did I hurt you?”
“What, with that tiny thing? No, no. Of course not.”
“Yes…it is rather heavy, isn’t it? Are you certain I didn’t hurt you?”
Thank God the pain in his head was extreme enough to keep him from fully enjoying the complexity of this delicate situation. Miss Rastmoor waving that thing around was almost too much to take without succumbing to laughter. Laughter, though, might draw unwanted attention, and that would not be good. His presence here tonight was not exactly requested.
“I’m fine,” he said. “But what the devil…Put that thing down, will you?”
She did. Sort of. She placed it on a nearby table, on its base. The blasted thing stood ramrod straight, pointing directly up at the ceiling. It was positively indecent.
Miss Rastmoor, however, paid it little mind. “What are you doing, climbing in the window like that?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” he replied.
“I wasn’t climbing in the window.”
“Well, you’re in here. What were you doing in here, Miss Rastmoor?”
“I was here for the Burlington ladies’ musicale. And I was allowed to use the front door.”
“Yes, but what are you doing in here? In this room?”
“This, Lord Harry, is the ladies’ retiring room. I was retiring.”
He cocked an eyebrow and glanced toward the phallus. “With that?”
Perhaps she did have a clue what it was, after all. Her face went a charming shade of scarlet. She was still standing rather near to it, and after just the briefest pause she reached out and casually laid it on its side. Now it was pointing directly toward her. Harris wasn’t certain which was more disconcerting, its previous position or this. Or the idea that Miss Rastmoor might wish to, er, retire with it.
“I’m quite certain Lord Burlington would not approve of you entering his home this way,” the lady said, stepping away from the phallus and moving to casually peruse an assortment of smaller artifacts that appeared to have been placed in no apparent order along the mantel over the unlit fire.
Damn, but he’d gotten distracted watching the girl’s filmy gown float against her delicious curves as she moved. He should have been formulating an excuse. Just why had he been climbing in through Burlington’s window, anyway?
“I was coming in here to…that is…”
“Don’t bother inventing a lie. I know exactly why you are here, Lord Harry,” she said, whirling to face him.
Her gown whirled with her, and he was treated to another view of those curves, not to mention a hint of ankle. He thought perhaps the phallus twitched, but he could have been wrong. He needed to keep his mind on more important matters and make sense of her words. Could it really be she knew why he was here?
“You do?”
“Yes,” she assured him. “And you cannot expect me to approve.”
“No, actually, I didn’t expect you to even know about it.”
She smiled, smug. “Well. I do know about it.”
“And just what do you intend to do about it?”
Now she chewed her lip and seemed to consider. He watched her, hoping she was not determined to cry out and turn him over to Burlington. That would be most uncomfortable, and certainly the man would go to greater trouble to hide his collection after finding Harris lurking here. It would be damned difficult to track it down again, giving the old blighter ample time to sell it off piece by piece to his anonymous customers.
“Well, I would like to order you to stop, but I don’t suppose you will agree to that, will you?” she said.
“Uh, probably not.”
She frowned. “No, being a man, I didn’t think you would.”
“Perhaps if you understood the urgent nature of things…”
Now she appeared actually horrified. “Lord Harry! I assure you, I do not wish to understand anything more about this than I already do.”
“But it’s a very complex matter,” he tried to explain. “It’s not nearly as sordid as you might think, Miss Rastmoor.”
“Oh?”
“It’s become a matter of life and death.”
It was clear she was unconvinced. She rolled her eyes.
“Honestly, Lord Harry. I’m quite certain no one has ever died from, er, lack of completing your goal.”
“You’d be surprised the level of desperation, Miss Rastmoor. A man in my position would go to great lengths.”
“Please, sir! I don’t want to hear anything about your great lengths. But how on earth can you expect me to condone this? And with everyone just in the next room! It’s…it’s indecent.”
“If you’d let me explain, you’d understand it’s being done with the noblest intentions.”
This certainly gave her pause. Her fair brows arched up and her blue eyes went round.
“Noble intentions?”
“Of course! You don’t think I do this simply on a lark, do you?”
“Actually, I had rather thought so.”
“Well, I don’t. I abhor being reduced to creeping about like this, but there is no other way. Now if you don’t mind, my time is rather limited, so you may either leave quietly, or stay and watch.”
“Watch? Good heavens, sir!”
“You’re right. That might implicate you, as well. Then I suggest you should leave, Miss Rastmoor.”
“Of course I will, but…”
“But?”
“Have you told her about me?”
“What?”
“Your little maid.”
“My little what?”
“Your maid! The one you were sneaking in here to meet, no doubt. I saw you with her earlier today, you know, and I have to say it’s rather unfair of you to be pretending to be engaged to me all the while you’re planning assignations with her.”
“Planning assig—? Miss Rastmoor, you misunderstand. I wasn’t—”
“I suppose I am glad to hear you have noble intentions—at least you claim to have them—but what can possibly be noble about climbing through a window to engage in…well, in what you claim to be desperate to engage in!”
“Oh, for Hades’ sake.”
The blasted girl thought he was here to shag a servant! By God, he’d set her straight right away. He’d inform her that, in fact, he was here to…no, that was no good. He couldn’t very well tell her he was here to take inventory of Lord Burlington’s antiquities collection so he might plot a return trip to rob it all, could he? No, actually, he couldn’t. She’d likely rush off and warn the man.
Hellfire. He’d just have to pretend to be shagging a servant.
“You found out my secret,” he said, producing a rather dramatic sigh.
“You can’t truly be serious about your so-called noble intentions, can you? I’m a very modern thinker, of course, but surely you aren’t serious about marrying a…a…”
“A servant?”
“She seems quite a pleasant girl, and she does seem completely taken with you, but—”
“You’ve spoken to her?”
“I have, and I suppose I should have suspected your motives when she told me how interested you were in learning which rooms in his lordship’s hous
ehold would be locked tonight,” she said, knitting her brows to contemplate things.
Clearly it was a complex matter for her, as she wandered the room while she spoke.
“I take it you assumed this was all the better for you to plan an illicit rendezvous, meeting her here in a locked room. Pity she didn’t get a chance to notify you that Miss Lettice’s pug soiled the carpet in the other room causing Lord Burlington to have to make this the ladies’ retiring room, instead.”
“You discussed Miss Lettice’s pug with her?”
“She mentioned it, yes. Now I see why it was of such interest to her.”
Botheration. So Miss Rastmoor had been making friends with that silly little maid he’d met yesterday, had she? Why the devil would she feel compelled to do that?
Because he was supposed to be her fiancé, of course. She’d be understandably miffed to find he was about to botch the performance by gallivanting around town with another female. Yes, he could see it in her eyes. She was miffed. He supposed he was fortunate she truly hadn’t known who he was when she’d struck him with that phallus. No doubt she would have swung the thing quite a bit harder.
“Then I suppose my plans for the evening are spoiled, aren’t they?” he asked, pretending to be very downcast.
“Absolutely. I can’t have you dallying with someone right here under the noses of half the people I know. Heavens, Lord Harry, what would they think?”
“It would certainly help motivate your brother to wish our engagement ended.”
“Yes, it might, but it would also make me look a dreadful fool,” she said, stopping by the table with the phallus and absently adjusting its angle so that now the bloody thing pointed straight toward Harris.
“We certainly can’t have you looking the fool, Miss Rastmoor.”
He’d been sauntering along after her, so he was near enough to touch the phallus just enough to shift it away from him. She noticed and frowned at him. Like a rebellious child, she shifted it back. He, in turn, re-shifted it again.
“Do you have some special prejudice toward this item, sir?” she asked, moving it back into place.
“No, I just would prefer not to have it staring at me,” he said, putting it where he’d had it.
Passion and Pretense Page 9
