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"What?"

"Only the most sensational piece of gossip I've ever heard."

"Tell me!"

"What will you give me in return?"

"Why should I give you anything? You clearly are bursting to share your information."

"I think I deserve something."

"Fine. A glass of my infamous port."

"It's too early in the day for port, naïve girl."

"I didn't mean now." As I looked at him, his appearance appealed to me more and more. He was not strikingly handsome like Colin, whose features reminded me more of the Praxiteles bust than of the typical Englishman. Instead Andrew's face was filled with character that jumped to life when he spoke.

"Will you kiss me?"

"Horrible, horrible man!" I said, laughing. "Of course not."

"Then let me hold your hand in mine when I tell you. It's the least you can do after such a heartless rejection."

I sighed and allowed him to take my hand, enjoying his attentions more than I let him know. "Your story had better be good."

"You do, of course, remember our dear friend Emma Callum?" I nodded. "It appears that her wedding to Lady Haverill's son will not take place as planned."

"Good heavens! Why not?" He held my hand more firmly as I tried to lift it from his.

"Because Emma has eloped to Venice with some Italian count."

"No!"

"Yes. Her father and brother are tracking down the couple even as we speak. She'll never be able to return to England."

"Her father will never cut her off. She'll still have her fortune-and now a title, even if it is Italian."

"You women are dreadfully prejudiced against younger sons. I feel keenly for my poor brother."

"I am sorry for Emma's fiancé. Although there is no doubt that he is out of a bad deal. Perhaps I should be sorry for the count instead."

"You are priceless. May I have my kiss now?"

"Absolutely not," I said, but did bestow on him my most charming smile.

"I'm told you've been seeing a lot of Hargreaves lately. He must be more entertaining than I thought."

"Colin? I don't see him often."

"You know I would never tell you what to do, but you would do well to watch yourself with him. His charm can be deadly."

"I assure you I am not at risk."

"Good. I'm very jealous, you know."

I wondered if I was letting this flirtation go too far but was enjoying myself too much to stop. Andrew could play the game as well as I could, and he was perfectly capable of looking after himself.

"Now, to leave this uncomfortable topic before you persist in breaking my heart further, I do have something serious to ask you." My heart stopped for a moment, as I feared he was about to propose. "My father keeps meaning to get some ridiculous papers from you. Something Ashton was studying? Alexander and Achilles, I think? Are you familiar with this?"

I sighed. "Yes, I am. I have meant to locate them for some time but keep getting distracted." This was the first time I had heard the topic of Philip's work; now I, too, was interested in finding the papers. I wanted very much to know his thoughts on Achilles.

"Why don't you let me help you? Where did Philip keep his papers?"

"In the library. But let's not look for them now," I said, not wanting to search through Philip's papers with Andrew watching me.

"I'm afraid I must press you on the matter. My father is quite set on having the monograph published. Can't imagine that anyone will ever read it. He couldn't invent a more boring topic if he tried."

"That's unfair, Andrew. I find it quite fascinating and would love to read more about it."

"Emily, Emily, I really must insist that you begin your return to society. Clearly you have spent too much time locked up with yourself if you prefer long-gone civilizations to the living one around you now."

"The people in those civilizations were not so different than we are, Andrew, and the art and literature they produced are still meaningful today. Surely even you must be moved when you read Homer." I picked up the Iliad and began to read.

Andrew immediately interrupted me. "If you force me to think about prep school, I shall have no choice but to resort to kissing to silence you."

"Then I shall say nothing more. Come with me, and I will try to find what your father needs." We walked to the library, where I sat down at Philip's desk, opened one of the drawers, and pulled out a pile of papers. The manuscript was nowhere to be found. "I'm very sorry, Andrew. Please tell your father that I shall keep looking. It's sure to be filed away somewhere."

"I'd happily do it for you if it weren't such a beautiful day. I want to go riding. Come with me?"

I did not reply.

"Emily? Are you all right?"

I nodded. "Fine, Andrew. Just a bit distracted. What did you say?"

"Want to go riding with me?"

"Not at the moment, thank you." My eyes rested on a small piece of paper, not unlike the one I had found earlier in Philip's guide to the British Museum, that was pushed into the back of the desk drawer. I waited until Andrew left to remove and open it. The handwriting was identical to that on the first note. Its message was brief: "Grave danger."

26 JUNE 1887

BERKELEY SQUARE, LONDON

Fournier has had his revenge; purchased a spectacular Roman copy of a Praxiteles discus thrower before I even knew it was on the market. Am devastated. He kindly invited me to view it next time I am in Paris, an opportunity that will come sooner than expected, as I plan to stop there on my way to Santorini in August.

Saw Kallista at Ascot last week; she had little to say to me but at the same time gave no suggestion that my attentions are unwelcome. Her beguiling innocence must explain her actions.

14

I compared the handwriting on the note with every document I could find in Philip's desk, carefully analyzing each invoice, receipt, and letter. Nothing matched. Furthermore, my husband's papers could not have been more mundane and gave no indication of what he might have been doing to receive such unsettling correspondence. I locked the note in a desk drawer, next to the other note and the gentleman's glove.

After a quick luncheon, I changed into an afternoon dress and prepared to leave the house.

"Davis? Where is my bust of Apollo?" I asked, adjusting my hat, which, although black, was still rather smart, in the hall mirror before heading to the front door.

"I'm very sorry, madam. The new parlormaid knocked over its pedestal while she was dusting this morning and broke the nose off the statue. I did save the pieces in case you wish to have it fixed," Davis replied as he opened the door for me.

"Thank you, Davis. Don't be too harsh with her; I'm sure it can be repaired adequately," I said, walking out of the house. I had crossed the tree-filled park in the center of Berkeley Square and was heading to Bruton Street when Colin Hargreaves approached me.

"Mr. Hargreaves, where have you been hiding?" I asked.

"I've been meaning to call on you for some time, but business did not allow me the pleasure until this afternoon."

"Well, as you see, I am not at home. In fact, I am on my way to the British Museum."

"Surely you do not plan to walk the entire distance? Your carriage would be much quicker."

"It's a fine day for a walk. I always feel I must take advantage of a sunny day."

"There is something most particular about which I would like to speak with you. May I join you?"

"I don't see why not." I took the arm he offered, and we continued up Conduit Street. As always, his touch made my skin tingle and brought a smile to my face.