“I am sorry, Cleo, I did nae think. All the way tae London, all that I could think about was yer letter and how much danger having deciphered the code puts ye in. I did nae give a thought tae yer reputation and for that, I apologize, but the sooner we solve this mystery, the sooner ye will be safe.”
“I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, Arthur, more than you will ever know, but I have been unable to make sense of the riddle that I translated. I know that it has something to do with King Arthur, but that is where the extent of my knowledge ends. I know naught else on the matter and it is driving me mad. I feel as if I have come so far, only to be brought up short of the prize.”
“Instead o’ meeting me at my townhouse as I first proposed, I will come to ye at Dustshore’s place if ye think that ye can slip down tae the back door tae meet me.”
“Yes, I believe that I can do that.”
“Midnight?”
“Yes, I will meet you then.”
Their conversation was once again cut short as their companions approached. “Miss Wallace, shall we move on to the Greek exhibits, they were after all your father’s favorite and I would very much like to hear what you can remember about his work there.”
Not wishing to draw suspicion, or to hurt Dustshore’s feelings, Cleo nodded her agreement. “Yes, of course.”
“Do join us, Irondale, if you find that you have the time,” Dustshore invited.
“I will,” Arthur answered and fell into step beside them. His hand brushed against Cleo’s as they passed through the doorway together causing a shiver of something that she did not fully understand to pass through her entire body. It felt like a mixture of longing compounded by loneliness, and something deeper that pulled at her insides with a strength that she could not deny. It was the same feeling she felt every time she looked into his stunning blue eyes.
There is something far more between us than what I am willing to admit and yet I cannot deny its power over me. When he is not near me, I wish for him to return. When he is near me, I cannot escape this feeling as if I am drowning and he is the only air in the room. How can I feel this way when I barely know him?
Cleo looked back and forth between both of the earls and could not fathom how she had found herself in such a tangle. Her aunt had all but promised her hand to the Earl of Dustshore, while Cleo’s heart cried out for the mysterious Earl of Irondale.None of this is right, nor does it matter, while my father’s murderer remains free to roam about and do further harm to me or others.She felt ashamed of herself for momentarily losing sight of her mission,and all for the sake of the touch of his hand.
The four of them spent several hours walking around the museum together discussing the various artifacts, but Cleo and Arthur were not given another moment alone. Cleo even managed to speak with some of the men that her father had worked with on various projects there but had not gotten any closer to solving the riddle or identifying her father’s killer. When they parted ways, her father’s former colleagues promised to pay call upon the morrow for tea and to speak more of her father’s time among them.
Cleo, the Lady Chapman, the Earl of Dustshore, the Earl of Irondale, and Aunt Caroline all walked out of the museum together. The Dustshore carriage was waiting for them on the street. The Earl of Dustshore helped Cleo up into the carriage before she had time to bid Arthur a proper farewell. “Do they not make a fine couple?” Cleo heard her Aunt Caroline ask Arthur. “We are hoping to hear of a proposal any day now.”
“O’ marriage?” Arthur asked, a tone of shock and something else tinging his voice.
“Of course, My Lord. What other proposal do you suppose it could be?” Aunt Caroline’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Brown. I am tired from my long journey and am in need of rest to rejuvenate my mind and body.”
“Of course.” Aunt Caroline patted Arthur’s arm in sympathy. “A bit of rest and you are sure to feel better.”
“Aye, I ken ye are right. I will bid ye ado.” Arthur bowed over Aunt Caroline’s hand, then the Lady Chapman’s, before he turned to walk away.
“Come to supper tomorrow, old chap?” Dustshore called after Arthur. “We will be returning to Oxfordshire in but a few days’ time and I was hoping to put together a dinner party for the professor’s friends here in London.
“Aye, I thank ye. I would be honored tae attend.”
“Excellent, until then, Irondale.”
“Until then, Dustshore.” Arthur nodded his head, then walked around the side of the building and was gone.
Cleo had been sitting in a state of disbelief throughout the entire intercourse. Her aunt’s declaration of her intention to see Cleo wed to Dustshore was not a revelation, but it had deeply embarrassed her that her aunt had spoken of it aloud to Arthur in front of everyone. What had caused her even greater surprise had been the look of complete and utter desolation in Arthur’s eyes at the news. She had never seen such a look on his face before and it broke her heart.
“Are you well, Miss Wallace?” Dustshore asked, looking up into her face as he aided the elder two ladies into the carriage, before climbing aboard himself.
“Yes, just a bit tired is all,” she answered in an attempt to cover her true feelings about what had just transpired. Dustshore himself seemed to be completely undaunted by the entire affair. “Did you mean what you said about hosting a dinner party for my father’s London friends and colleagues?”
“Yes, of course.” He looked at her face in inquiry as to why she would ask such a question. “Why would I not?”
“I had the very same notion but had been too afraid to ask such a favor of your hospitality.”
“Nonsense. Never be afraid to ask me for anything. As I explained before, I wish for us to be friends. I am glad that my choice to honor your father’s memory in such a way pleases you. I saw how well you were received among them and thought it might be nice for you to spend more time with them. Were it my father, I would wish the same.”
“Thank you, My Lord. I cannot tell you what this means to me.”
