“Perhaps the challenge is what you and I need to resume our relationship.” He flicked his regard to the auctioneer. “I did enjoy your company and conversation.” His tone was honest enough.
And, damn, if she didn’t waver. Perhaps he was in earnest and he wasn’t bent on cheating her out of her discoveries. “Show me you’ve changed, and then we’ll talk.” About what and why? Juliana, watch yourself and stop thinking with emotions like Rathesborne warned.
“Fair enough.” His voice hadn’t lost that warm, compelling sound. “By the way, I’ll need the statuette back—the one you stole from the museum, specifically.”
Juliana’s stomach bottomed out. “I... I gave it to the duke.” It was a half-truth, of course, but the statuette was no more and currently in the earl’s rubbish bin. “He caught me stealing it. I had no choice.” Please forgive me the lie, Crispin.
“That is unfortunate.” His frown was fierce in the flickering sconce light.
“Why?”
“Now the game is on and it won’t be as fun—for you.” His gaze bore into hers.
“How do you figure?” She could barely force out the words from a tight throat.
“I cannot seduce the duke as I could you.” He raked his gaze over her bosom. “Unless you want to work together again. You and I have both learned things while apart. If we work together, imagine how much ground we could cover.”
“I must think about it and consider all my options.”
“I am your only option.” He moved a hand to her knee and squeezed it. “If you think the duke would look twice at you after what you did...”
A gasp escaped her. Was he fishing for information or did he truly know? Or did he refer to what he and she had done together? While her heart raced, she choked out, “I don’t know what you mean.” Perhaps it was best to call his bluff.
“Women who go to such lengths to disguise themselves and change their appearance have secrets to hide. I will discover yours, then you’ll have to make a choice—me.”
Oh God. Did that mean his contacts knew about her King’s agent status? A shiver of fear rippled up her spine. “I have nothing to hide.” Then she removed his hand from her person.
Again, he chuckled as if he found her the height of amusing, but the trace of compassion in his eyes sent her again into a morass of confusion. “I’m on the trail of something big, while you will tarry in Cairo, clearly on the wrong track, with disgrace in the offing and your father in crisis.” He planted both feet on the floor and leaned into her, his fingers once more on her skin, perilously close to the golden chain. His breath was hot on the side of her neck. “If you land in the drink with the duke, send for me. I will come to your rescue.”
“No doubt I can handle myself,” she hissed out, annoyed at him and herself.
He caressed his gaze over her face. “I wonder how many mistakes one person’s conscience can bear before they break completely? When that happens, I’ll take you back without recrimination, for we are both the same type of person.”
Cold fingers of terror gripped her heart, for making the wrong decision about him or at herself for wavering, she didn’t know, but with every flip flop of her thoughts, she was no doubt failing someone. Not knowing what else to do, she shot to her feet. If she didn’t leave, she’d do something foolish, and already this man’s words bordered on the truth. “You have crossed the line.” No longer did she whisper.
The people assembled in the auction all turned around and looked at them.
“And you are walking one.” He grinned and she panicked.
Her insides shook with fear. Had she been compromised? How much, exactly, did he know, if anything? Needing an outlet for her excess of emotion, she drew back her hand and slapped him with such force her palm stung. The crowd gasped. Some of the men leered. “You may take that as my answer to any question you might have.”
I hope.
Then, without a backward glance, she sailed from the room, her chin trembling but held high, tears of frustration and disappointment in her eyes. Had she failed in this mission as well?
Perhaps it was only a matter of time.
Chapter Nine
October 26, 1822
Crispin had barely settled into his breakfast before Alfred announced they had a visitor. Since Archewyne hadn’t yet made an appearance, he had no choice but to attend to the interruption.
“Who is it? We cannot linger since we’re leaving for Luxor in an hour.” Already, frantic packing was coming to an end, and the butler looked rather harried.
Their departure couldn’t come too soon, for any more time spent in Lord Ramsay’s company, and he would want to throttle the man. The outing at the illegal underground marketplace the evening before had seriously tried his patience. Seeing valuable antiquities bandied about and put up for the highest bidder had incensed him, and knowing a fair lot of the buyers were his own English countrymen merely wanting the pieces on a whim had him nearly howling with rage. The arrogance of these sorts, thinking they could plunder and rape a foreign country of their treasures. So much so, that finding nothing of value in his auction, he’d joined the earl in his. Seeing more of the same, Archewyne had had to physically restrain him more than once during the proceedings, but they hadn’t seen the piece they were after.
Adding to the stress was the fact he didn’t meet with Juliana following the conclusion of the evening, for she’d fled the area before he and Archewyne had ever found their way out of the underground labyrinth. Lord Ramsay had gone missing as well, and Crispin couldn’t help but think they might have absconded together.
Surely not. She loathed the man, but stranger things had happened... and they had been lovers in the not so distant past. Was that the sort of man she desired?
Bah. Why do I care?
“I understand that, Your Grace, but this person wishes to see you specifically.” The butler cleared his throat and recalled the duke’s attention to the matter at hand. “What shall I tell Miss Barrington?”
His eyebrows rose. “It’s Miss Barrington who’s here?”
“Yes, and she’s quite out of sorts, I believe.”
“Damn it.” Crispin dropped his fork. It fell against his plate with a clatter. “Show her in here, if you please, and for the love of God, see that she has breakfast. I worry over her health.” A woman of her caliber didn’t deserve to fend for herself, not anymore.
“Right away, my lord.” Alfred left with an expression of relief and Crispin hastily mopped at the bit of egg yolk that had splattered when he’d dropped his fork.
When she entered the breakfast room with lines of strain on her oval-shaped face and a trace of fear clouding her cornflower blue eyes, Crispin shot to his feet.
“What has occurred?” He rushed across the floor and then escorted her to the table while Alfred poured her out a cup of tea. “I can see by your expression that something rather upsetting has happened.” He exchanged a glance with the butler, who shrugged before turning to the sideboard. “Was it that prick, Lord Ramsay? Has he molested you in some way?” I shall kill him, I swear it. His vehemence took him by surprise, for he had no right to defend her or do anything else by her. They were merely acquaintances. Neither did he have evidence the cad had done her wrong. Then why the quick temper regarding the man?
“Calm yourself, Crispin.” Juliana’s hand shook as she lifted her teacup. The brilliant turquoise of her gown made her skin seem more pale than usual, but the vibrant color suited her better than anything else she’d worn. “When I woke this morning, I discovered that my room had been broken into while I slept.”
“You’re certain?” He sat down hard on his own chair. That was certainly cause for alarm. While Alfred put a plate loaded with breakfast foods in front of the lady, Crispin stared at her as his mind spun with questions. She exhibited the classic symptoms of someone who had just had a shock, so it wasn’t a calculated performance on her part. But, she had fooled him before with falsehoods, so he strove to condition
his reaction.
“Yes. It is difficult not to be.” She took a sip of tea and then reached for the tray and the sugar tongs. “My belongings were tossed about in a haphazard way. Every article of clothing I own was taken from the armoire as well as my trunk. It was all in a jumbled heap this morning. What was more, the mosquito netting around my bed was disturbed.” Juliana shook her head and gave into a shiver. “To think a thief went through my things, came close to me while I was out...” The upswept masses of her golden hair gleamed in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. A tress tumbled from its pin to dance about her left shoulder. “How could this have happened? I am always careful to lock both my door and my windows every night.”
“Criminals are opportunists.” But he frowned. “You heard nothing?”
“Not even the scrape of a sole against the floor.” Absently, she stirred a spoon through her tea. “I suppose I was overly tired from last night.”
What the devil did that mean? Had she done something strenuous that had left her more fatigued than usual? Focus, Crispin. “The thief was experienced. Was your father robbed as well?”
A wash of tears welled in her eyes. “I wouldn’t know. It seems while we were out last night,” the delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow, “the ambassador was taken into custody and is no doubt even now in the Cairo prison.”
“My poor girl,” Crispin murmured, and forgetting himself, he reached across the table and grasped her fingers. “You were targeted, but beyond that, I’m so sorry to hear of your father’s troubles.”
“As am I.” A crystalline drop of moisture fell to her cheek. “Which is why it is imperative that I complete this mission. Then I can turn my attention to finding the director’s killer.”
“Perhaps both crimes are related.” He glanced at Alfred. “Fetch Archewyne. Tell him it’s urgent.” And quite concerning. Once the butler left, Crispin continued, “Was anything of value taken?”
“Yes. It took me an hour or so to put everything back to rights. After that, the theft was easily discovered.” She nodded and her chin trembled. When she met his gaze, shock reflected in her eyes. “The book of ancient Egyptian fables is gone.” Her teaspoon clanged overly loud when she laid it onto her saucer. “And, I’m sad to say a few pages of notes I’d jotted down regarding my theories about Moses and his history within palace life.”
Damn and blast. A cold shot of foreboding slammed down his spine. “Anything else?” He dropped his gaze to her neck and then stifled a sigh. The golden chain was still there, which meant her piece of the staff was still in her possession.
“Not that I could tell. After I put my room to rights, I took a quick inventory. The few pieces of jewelry I own are still in their cases.” Then she gasped as she held his gaze. “That’s not true. There was something else taken, an antiquity.”
“What? Not your staff piece, I assume?” At least he’d have verbal confirmation.
“No, that is still on my person.” Her smile was wan as she drew the golden eagle from beneath her bodice where it fell with a thump against her chest. “Thank goodness I wore it to bed, for even I don’t trust anyone in Cairo. There is something to be said for instincts.”
“And the object taken?”
“A small soapstone statue depicting what I believed to be Moses holding a young girl on his lap was taken.”
“Who was the child?”
“I’m not certain, but my theory is that it is a daughter of the queen. A royal princess whom he was tasked with tutoring. Some scholars dispute that fact, of course, but it makes sense to me. If Moses was raised in the court, he was someone of high bearing. It’s only natural that the queen would wish her offspring taught by one such as him.”
“Why did you not tell me you had such a thing?”
Juliana shrugged. “I didn’t feel it was relevant with all the other information I’d already given you, but that statue...” Her sigh might have come from her toes for all its force. She planted an elbow on the table and dropped her chin into her hand, the perfect picture of dejection. It even reflected in her eyes. “I’d found it in the marketplace shortly after arriving in Cairo, so it must have come from a cache of similar treasures pertaining to the queen.”
He blinked as his eyebrows rose. “Which means there’s a tomb somewhere with more of the same.”
“Yes. That is the hope, though my main objective is the staff.”
Mine too. “Did you alert the authorities?”
She snorted. “To what purpose? They would do nothing, ask me where I’d been the evening before, and then proclaim it my fault for keeping late hours.” The distaste that wrinkled her brow was contagious. “What care they if an antiquity was stolen? The problem is large in the country as it is.”
Yet was it coincidence that the artifact stolen from her corresponded to the history of the very relic they both sought, and on the heels of her being in Lord Ramsay’s company? “I apologize in advance if this sounds crass, but I must ask. Did you go home with Lord Ramsay last night?” Heat crept up his neck from his audacity.
Shock replaced the confusion and fear in her expression and... Why the deuce did she look guilty? “Of course not. How dare you accuse me of such a thing.” In her ire, she threw a toast triangle at him. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
The bread glanced off his shoulder and landed harmlessly on the floor.
“He is well within his rights to ask that question,” Archewyne said as he entered the room. No doubt he’d been informed of the proceedings by Alfred, who was two paces behind him. “After the events of last night and your disappearance, as well that of Lord Ramsay’s, you can see how assumptions would be made.”
Twin spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. “You must think my character quite low to even suggest such a thing.” She took refuge in her tea and refused to look at either of them. “There is nothing more between Andrew and me.” But the guilt remained.
What the devil happened between them at that auction? Crispin glanced at the earl, who remained enigmatic as he took a seat at the table. A tiny gasp escaped her and she tightened her fingers around her cup. “Do you think the thief was after my staff piece?”
“It’s a fair possibility,” Crispin said with a nod. And too coincidental.
“You’ve told us everything of value contained in that book of fables?” the earl questioned. He refused any sort of refreshment when Alfred asked, leading Crispin to assume he’d already eaten.
“Of course.” A crease formed on her brow. “You know all that I do on the subject.” She poked about on her breakfast plate, never actually eating anything.
“You’ll swear it, Miss Barrington?” Archewyne’s intense gaze never wavered from her face.
Another huff of frustration escaped her. Finally, she looked directly at him. “I will, and on that you have my word. I have no reason any longer to lie.”
“I believe her,” Crispin told the earl. Then he turned his full attention to Juliana. “I believe you, and if I may be so bold? In light of this new information, you will now consider yourself part of the expedition to Luxor.”
Her eyes rounded. A spark of excitement danced deep in the blue depths, which spoke to her forgetting the training she’d lived with. “Is that true?”
Archewyne came up to the mark splendidly. “Of course. We can hardly leave if you’re in the path of potential danger.” He waved a hand. “Herrick will accompany you back home so you can pack your things.” He stood. “Have a care. We will linger in Luxor for a few months, so anything you cannot live without needs to come with you.”
“What of my father?” She dragged in a ragged breath. “I cannot bear to think of what treatment he’ll receive in that prison.”
“But at least there he is relatively safe.” Archewyne cleared his throat. “If events should reach a breaking point, I shall send a representative back to Cairo straightaway. It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.” With that, the earl departed
the room, and over his shoulder he said, “I wouldn’t tarry if I were you. We’re departing the house in one hour sharp.”
“Thank you.” She nodded and gently pulled her fingers away from Crispin. Once she’d dashed at the moisture on her cheeks, she pushed to her feet. “Shall we gather my belongings? I rather doubt the earl will wait for us.”
“You have no idea.” Crispin scrambled to his feet regardless of the loud rumble of his stomach. Perhaps they’d have tea while onboard the dahabiyah Archewyne had booked for their passage to Luxor. “As it is, the trip down the Nile will take, at the very least, four days. But most likely we’ll arrive in six. Tourist boats take ten, but we won’t stop at sites along the way.” A pity, that, for he would have adored taking in the sights with her.
As they waited for a carriage, Juliana glanced into his face. “Should I even ask why you’ve accumulated a couple of new bruises since I last saw you?”
He tugged on his suddenly too-tight cravat. “I might have had strong words with one of the auctioneers last night.”
A smile curved her lips. “This country is eroding your good nature, Your Grace. Too much more time here, and you’ll become a rough and tumble lord, more suited to fisticuffs in a salon than a cultured duke of breeding, going about the ton with beautiful women on your arm.” Amusement threaded through her tone.
“As if that is such a bad thing.” But he grinned as well. At least she’d noticed him.
November 2, 1822
They made great time during the trip, and only spent one day floundering when the winds died down to nothing.
During the voyage on the dahabiyah, the room he and Archewyne planned to share—for the ship was crowded and all six staterooms were taken—but with the advent of Juliana, they’d both gallantly given the room to her, which meant they either bunked with the crew down below or spent each night in chairs on the deck.
Either way, it hadn’t been much of a hardship, with the exception of sore muscles.
What the Dashing Duke Deserves (Lords of Happenstance, #3) Page 12
