The Virgin’s Secret

by Victoria Alexander

  “I daresay their morals in matters of this nature are no better than mine. And certainly no better than the French counsel’s wife.” Quint flashed him an unrepentant smile. “Your help is most appreciated, you know.”

  “I do.” Nate sighed. “However, you should be prepared for Mother’s ire. I can’t help you there. She was concerned that you wouldn’t make it home at all.”

  “Come now, I would never miss our little sister’s coming out ball.” Quint adjusted the cuffs at his wrists. He had the look of a man who’d dressed in a hurry, as he no doubt had. “Reggie would cut my heart out, as would Mother and, probably, Sterling as well.”

  “It does seem a requirement to have all family members present when launching a sister on the seas of society.” Nate gazed over the crowd below them. “When did you finally arrive in London?”

  “What time is it now?” Quint grinned. “Obviously, I haven’t missed anything of importance, nor does it sound as if I missed anything of interest in Alexandria.”

  “Not really.” Nate paused. “Oh, there was someone asking about you.”

  Quint’s grin widened. “Someone is always asking about me.”

  “Yes, well, this was not a suspicious husband or outraged father. Do you recall Enrico Montini?”

  Quint shrugged. “Vaguely.”

  “Surely you remember him. He claimed to have discovered a seal, ancient—Akkadian, if I remember—that made reference to the Virgin’s Secret, the lost city of Ambropia. He was very cautious and wouldn’t show us the seal itself, only the clay impression made by the seal.” Nate stared at his brother. Quint had worked with the professor who was the leading authority on Ambropia years ago. “You can’t possibly have forgotten. It was a remarkable find.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Apparently he died rather suddenly a few months ago.”

  “How unfortunate,” Quint murmured.

  “Indeed. His brother, odd little fellow, accosted me a few days after you left. He was quite irate and accused us, really you—”

  “Me?”

  “Your reputation precedes you.” Nate grimaced. While he worked hard to keep their activities legitimate, there had been incidents before he joined Quint that had been, at the very least, questionable. “Montini’s brother suspects someone substituted a seal of lesser quality and age for his, which he then unknowingly presented to the Antiquities Society Validation Committee. Needless to say, they were not amused.”

  “Very little does amuse them,” Quint said under his breath.

  “Montini was discredited. His brother claims the shattering of his reputation somehow led to his death, and he wants to find those responsible.”

  The Validation and Allocation Committee of the London Antiquities Society was charged with determining the significance of the finds of its members who hunted for artifacts in the far corners of the world as well as evaluating proposals for future work. The society’s board used the committee’s decisions to determine whether to lend support to an expedition. Support that might be as minimal as the use of the society’s influential name or as consequential as financial backing.

  “You should know I told his brother you had left Egypt for Turkey. I suspect he intended to follow you.”

  “Most appreciated.”

  “One does what one can for one’s brother.” Nate shook his head. “Pity about Montini, though.”

  “No doubt he simply made a mistake,” Quint said.

  “Still, if I recall the impressions he showed us—”

  “Such things happen all the time. You and I have on occasion believed a find to be more significant than it was.” Quint paused, nodded at the gathering below them and abruptly changed the subject. Not that it really mattered. “Whose idea was it to have this ball out of doors?”

  Nate chuckled. “Who do you think?”

  “And Mother allowed it?”

  “She fretted all week about the possibility of rain and what would we do then? But you know how Reggie is when she sets her mind on something.” Nate shrugged. “And this is, after all, her party.”

  Even at age eighteen, Regina Harrington had a strength of character that would be some poor man’s undoing one day. Their sister was the youngest child and only girl, and neither her mother nor her brothers had ever managed to say no to her. Reggie had gotten it into her head that it would be a grand idea to have dancing on the terrace under the stars and reserve the ballroom for tables for dinner and conversation. She had ignored her mother’s concerns with the blithe confidence known only to young women in their first season. Besides it wouldn’t dare rain on Lady Regina Harrington’s coming out ball, and it hadn’t. It was a perfect spring night.

  Nate leaned on the balustrade and studied the crowd. “When was the last time we were in England in the spring?”

  “I’m not sure.” Quint thought for a moment. “This time last year we were in Persia, and the year before that Egypt, I think, or perhaps Turkey. I really can’t say but it’s been a long time.”

  It had been at least six years by Nate’s estimation since he and his brother had resided for more than a handful of months at a time in England, at their family’s London home or their country estate. They were more likely to be found searching for a lost city in Turkey or a pharaoh’s vanished tomb in Egypt or a forgotten temple in Persia and the treasure that would surely accompany such a find. These days they were more at home sleeping under the stars than dancing under them. Nate tugged at the scratchy, starched collar imprisoning his neck. And they’d be far more comfortable as well. Still, it was good to be home.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, I have rather missed the London season,” Quint said thoughtfully.

  Nate scoffed. “I find that hard to believe. I thought you hated all this.”

  “Nonsense, brother dear.” Quint scanned the crowd below them. “I’ve never especially liked the unrelenting rules governing it all. The ‘You must do this’ and ‘You absolutely cannot do that.’ But the array of English beauty on display during the season is unmatched. It’s a grand feast and well worth the effort.”

  Nate chuckled. “A feast?”

  “Absolutely.” Quint rested his forearms on the balustrade, clasped his hands together and scanned the gathering. He nodded toward a group of fresh-faced, hopeful young females in white gowns.

  Nate followed his brother’s gaze but his eye caught on a dark-haired young woman. She wore a dress the deep color of ripe apricots and casually circled the terrace as if she were looking for something or someone.

  “There you have the debutantes, those in their first season. They are a first course, light and teasing to the appetite. No more than a suggestion of the offerings to come.”

  “And the second course?” The woman carried herself with the self-assurance borne of beauty, but Nate had the most absurd notion that she was somehow out of place. It was a silly thought. He didn’t know half the guests in attendance and wouldn’t have known who belonged here and who didn’t. Nor did he care.

  “There.” Quint indicated another group of pastel-clad young ladies. “This is no doubt their second or third season or more. They are somewhat more substantial to the palate but again nothing more than a prelude. As for the main course…” He narrowed his gaze thoughtfully. “Presentation of a plate, its appeal to the eye, is as important as flavor. One wouldn’t be tempted by an offering that did not whet one’s appetite.” He continued to study the crowd. “Those in more vibrant colors are married or widows many years out of mourning. Here, brother, you must make your selection of which dish to sample carefully. While an unhappily married woman makes an excellent main course, an outraged husband does tend to produce unpleasant aftereffects.”

  “Indigestion?” Nate said absently, still watching the unknown lady meander around the perimeters of the terrace. He couldn’t clearly make out her features but had the oddest sense of familiarity. Had he met her before? Years ago perhaps? Or on one of his rare visits home? Nonsense, from t
he balcony he couldn’t clearly see her face.

  “At the very least. But a widow who is content in her widowhood and has no desire to become a wife again can be a most substantial and satisfying—” Quint grinned.”—dining experience.”

  “Very tasty,” Nate murmured.

  Quint slanted him a suspicious glance. “Are you listening to me?”

  “What? Yes, of course,” Nate said quickly, and straightened. “I am hanging on every word. I believe you have come to—” He cleared his throat. “—dessert.”

  “A most important and delightful addition to a meal.” Quint shrugged. “Although dessert is entirely dependent upon one’s taste. A light and frothy confection of spun sugar and air—”

  “Similar to the first course?”

  Quint nodded. “Quite. While tasty upon the tongue, such a sweet can lead to a permanent diet, which I personally prefer to avoid. And a heavier offering, say a pudding, can be thoroughly enjoyable as long as one is careful not to develop a taste for it.”

  “Or one might find oneself eating pudding for the rest of one’s life?”

  “Exactly. And as much as I might like pudding, I can’t imagine having it every day until I breathe my last.”

  “Nor can I.” Although Nate suspected he would be ready for a steady diet of pudding long before his brother was. Not that he was ready for pudding—or rather, marriage—as of yet. Still, the idea was not nearly as repugnant to him as it was to Quint. He himself was confident he would know the right woman when she stepped into his life. Until then, he was more than willing to try whatever desserts were offered.

  “It appears Sterling has noted my arrival,” Quint said out of the corner of his mouth, directing a smile and a brief wave to their brother, who stood off to one side of the terrace beside their mother. The Earl of Wyldewood’s annoyed glare was as unyielding as the legendary beacon from the long vanished Pharos of Alexandria. “Shall we join the others?”

  “I don’t think we can avoid it.” Nate chuckled.

  Quint stepped through the door onto the mezzanine that overlooked the ballroom. Nate cast a last glance over the crowd below, then followed his brother. He had lost the woman in the apricot dress but had no doubt he would find her. He smiled to himself, noting the same sense of anticipation he always had at the start of any quest, be it for the lost treasures of an ancient people or an intriguing female. Would this be a find of great importance? Or like that poor wretch Montini, would it be nothing more than a dreadful mistake?

  Regardless, he had always been fond of apricots.

  It wasn’t as if she’d never been to a ball before. Why, when her brother had been in London, they always attended the annual ball of the Antiquities Society and on occasion others hosted by organizations affiliated with a university or museum.

  She wandered along the edges of the crowd on the terrace in as casual a manner as she could muster, as if she belonged here, her confidence bolstered by the knowledge that she looked her best. Her gown was the latest French fashion and something of an extravagance, even if she could well afford it. Regardless, her world did not demand an excess of fashionable gowns. Still, it did enhance her appearance, and she had just enough vanity to appreciate that. She was well aware that she was considered pretty, with her dark hair and deep blue eyes, although it had never been of particular concern.

  Gabriella Montini smiled and nodded at people she had never met nor ever expected to meet. Certainly, this would be easier if she’d ever before attended a ball given by an earl. And considerably less, well, awkward if she had actually been invited instead of quietly slipping in through the back garden gate.

  This was the home of those vile Harrington brothers, and this was where she hoped to find evidence that one or, more likely, both of them had stolen the Ambropia seal from her brother. Not that she had any real proof yet, but they were at the top of Enrico’s list of possibilities and an excellent place to start. She stepped through the tall French doors thrown open to the terrace and walked into the ballroom. Should the opportunity ever present itself, she would have to thank whoever had the odd idea to have the dancing out of doors. It made her task much less difficult. And this time she had a plan.

  Gabriella accepted a glass of punch from a passing footman and inquired as to the location of the ladies’ retiring room. Not that she had any intention of retiring, but it would provide an excellent excuse should she be discovered. All part of her plan. Admittedly, it wasn’t an excellent plan, but it was far better than the last, which hadn’t involved the least bit of sensible forethought and could have had disastrous consequences. Disaster was inevitable when one acted on emotion and impulse rather than rational thought.

  She should have learned that lesson years ago, and thought she had. But she’d never anticipated how sorrow and anger could build inside a person for months, until it banished sanity from even the most sensible head. Still, it was something of an adventure, and ended without serious incident, though it was not especially successful. It had been years since she’d had any kind of adventure whatsoever that could not be found between the pages of aged, dusty manuscripts and the yellowed notebooks of long dead explorers. And she did so long to get away from books. For that alone it was perhaps worth the deception involved.

  “Emma, my dear girl!” An older woman swept up to her in a flurry of satin skirts and exuberance. “How are you? It’s been simply forever since we’ve seen one another. I heard you and your mother were in Paris.”

  Gabriella ignored the panic twisting her stomach. The lady had obviously mistaken her for someone else, and it seemed wise not to correct her. The last thing she needed was for anyone to realize she didn’t belong here. She forced her brightest smile. “It has been a long time.”

  “You are as lovely as always. At least I think you are.” The older woman squinted her eyes and peered at Gabriella. “Do forgive me, my dear, I have misplaced my spectacles once again.” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “It’s one of the banes of growing older. All sorts of things that used to work quite well no longer perform even adequately. I won’t bore you with a long list. Suffice it to say eyesight and forgetting where I’ve put something are among them.”

  The woman couldn’t clearly see her? Relief and a touch of gratitude for this stranger washed through Gabriella. Not enough, however, to tell her that her spectacles dangled from a jeweled broach pinned to her expansive bosom. “Nonetheless, you do appear well.”

  “Oh, I am. Quite well, thank you. And I have always been dreadful about misplacing my things so I really can’t blame that on age.” She leaned closer and laid a hand on Gabriella’s arm in a confidential manner. “Age is a lovely excuse, you know. One is allowed to be eccentric rather than merely scatterbrained.” She straightened and glanced around the room, which was rather pointless Gabriella thought. “Is your charming husband with you this evening?”

  “Yes, of course. He’s…” She paused. Not having a husband, she wasn’t at all sure where one might be found. But she did know where she wished to put her plan in motion. “In the library, I believe. Yes, I think that’s what he said. Do you know where it is?”

  “Through the main doors into the corridor and then just a few doors down.”

  Just past the ladies’ receiving room. How convenient. “I really should find him.”

  “Yes, indeed, you should be getting back to him.” The older woman shook her head. “I wouldn’t let a husband as handsome as your Lord Carpenter wander about freely. I should find my husband as well. Not as handsome as yours and certainly not as young, but age looks better on him then it does on me.”

  “I can’t believe that.”

  “Neither can I.” She laughed. “Do pay a call on me soon, my dear. It has been far too long.” She smiled, nodded, and took her leave.

  Gabriella did hope someone would tell her the location of her spectacles. Preferably after Gabriella had left the ball. She headed toward the library and hoped she didn’t run into anyone’s husband, or a
nyone at all for that matter. Fortunately, there was no one in the corridor. She found the library door, pressed her ear against it, heard nothing, then drew a deep breath and pushed it open as if she had every right to be there. As if she was simply another invited guest.

  She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Thankfully, the library was indeed empty and well lit. She would hate to have had to stumble around in the dark. Antique swords and pistols were mounted on the walls on either side of the doors. A large desk sat at the far end of the room. Flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows, it was the dominant feature in the room, as she imagined the desk of an earl would be. The remaining walls were covered with tall book-lined shelves interspersed with portraits of long dead ancestors. She sniffed in disdain. Pirates and thieves the lot of them, no doubt. A smaller desk, probably for use of the earl’s secretary, was placed off to one side of his lordship’s.

  She crossed the room to the smaller desk and wondered where to begin. It had been remarkably easy to learn that the earl’s secretary also handled whatever paperwork his younger brothers’ activities required. A few casual conversations with some of the older members of the Antiquities Society bemoaning how terribly complicated verification of finds and requests for funding had become. And hadn’t it been so much easier in those long ago days when they were the ones uncovering the artifacts and treasures of forgotten civilizations? Why, one could scarcely accomplish anything these days without hiring clerical help, which certainly was a financial burden unless one was independently wealthy. Or had a clever sister who could handle such matters, or an earl for a brother who was willing to provide the services of his own secretary.