Isabella stopped abruptly as her gaze fell to the name of the man who had mapped the area. She blinked, wondering if hunger could affect one’s eyesight.
Hearing the hitch in her breath, Mr Chance braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “What is it? What have you found?”
Isabella swallowed hard. This complicated matters. This new development left her shaking to the marrow of her bones.
“You might find this a shocking coincidence, sir. I assure you, I was as ignorant as you when I arrived here this morning.”
“Miss Lawton,” he snapped, cringing at the sound of her name. “Tell me who mapped the area.”
She put a hand on her abdomen to settle her roiling stomach. “Sir Geoffrey Lawton was the cartographer. My father mapped the dig site.”
ChapterThree
“Tell me this is Daventry’s idea of a sick joke.” Just when Christian had a plan to distance himself from the beauty seated at the desk, a plan to appease his brother, they’d added Lawton’s name to the suspect list.
Miss Lawton’s hand came to rest gently on her throat. “I don’t understand why Mr Daventry didn’t mention it before.”
“He couldn’t have known Lawton mapped the area.” Christian didn’t want to think ill of a man most people admired. “Or maybe Daventry didn’t consider it important.”
“No. It certainly puts me in a difficult position.” She worried her lower lip, the look in her dark eyes shifting from fear to utter bewilderment. “My father will think I’m conspiring against him.”
Christian considered the problem.
Perhaps it would work to his advantage.
“All the more reason you should study the paperwork while I make enquiries elsewhere.” If her father discovered she had broken into his home and was prying into his affairs, she might find herself in a French convent, not a seminary. “Based on past circumstances, it’s impossible for us to work together.”
Yet she put him at ease.
She was interesting, intelligent and had courage abound.
“Impossible for you,” she corrected.
“Yes, impossible for me.” Nothing mattered more than family loyalty. “It’s not personal,madam.” He couldn’t bear to call her Miss Lawton.
“Of course it’s personal.” Her laugh echoed the emptiness that consumed him of late. “I’m being punished for my father’s misdeeds. Though I understand why, it hardly seems fair.”
Fair! Rather than hurl accusations meant for her father, he fell silent. The lady did not press him further but returned to her studies.
For two hours, they spoke of nothing but the notes relating to the excavation. Twice, she moved to the table in the corner, poured another glass of wine and munched on bread.
Christian took the opportunity to flick through the documents, hunting for other clues. But his thoughts strayed to his rumbling stomach, and how he’d forgotten what it was like when one’s body cramped with hunger.
He made a mental note to order groceries on the way home and have them delivered to Miss Lawton’s abode in Hill Street. Based on her faded gown, he would lay odds she’d come to London with nothing more than a valise. He could send a modiste to the house and pay the bill, but that was a step too far.
Daventry returned with the flustered curator. “Well, did you note anything of interest?”
Christian considered grabbing Daventry by the throat and pinning him to the wall. “We believe the artefacts are genuine but were shocked to find they were purchased so cheaply.”
Brown chuckled. “Mr Purton is an experienced haggler.”
“Purton?”
“My assistant. He took care of the museum during my brief absence.”
Christian turned to Miss Lawton but she was already adding the assistant’s name to the suspect list. No wonder Daventry had hired her. She had a keen eye, a curious mind and a body made for sin.
An odd sensation came over him. A desire to see her again. A deep sense of regret for being quick to insist they could not work together.
