Page 16 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“Yes, Sir Jonathan? Don’t have second thoughts now.”

He blinked. For a brief moment, he thought she was referring to his weakening resolve to complete his mission.

“I… I find your uncle’s methodology enlightening,” he said, recovering his voice at last. “I attempt to emulate him when excavating.”

Lord Wedmore believed in preserving as much of the artifact as possible in order to better understand how past civilizations lived, but it required more patience and dedication than most of their contemporaries possessed.

“Uncle Charles would be thrilled to hear he is emulated,” she said. “I will introduce you when he returns so you can tell him personally.”

He inclined his head, his gut sour at the thought of taking advantage of her generosity. “I would be honored.”

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly with Miss Darlington discussing her particular area of interest, ancient warfare. She was a lively, intelligent young woman, and her knowledge of war tactics during the Greek Archaic Period was…well, shocking.

To be frank, she knocked him caput supra calcem.

Head over heels.

His father had used the Latin phrase once to describe the moment Jonathan’s mother agreed to embark on an expedition with him rather than taking a proper honeymoon.

Mentally, he erased the thought. Evangeline Darlington was a means to an end, and he couldn’t afford to allow his attraction to her to affect his mission.

Toward the end of the evening, Jonathan suggested Miss Darlington and her family tour Hadrian’s Library, the ancient Agora, Tower of the Winds. “And of course, the Acropolis,” he added, “though you must have permission. I could look into it if you like.”

“That would be wonderful, Sir Jonathan,” she said. “One cannot travel all the way to Athens and not tour the Acropolis.”

He had an excuse ready for when he was invited to accompany them sightseeing, but an invitation didn’t come. As she bid him good night, he couldn't shake the sense his exclusion wasn’t an oversight. Whatever she was hiding, he would uncover it tomorrow, starting with his search of Wedmore’s trunk.

Six

The next morning Jonathan remained in his quarters until he was certain Miss Darlington and her family had left the villa. After the enjoyable evening spent in their company, he preferred to avoid lying if they asked about his plans for the day. He felt bad enough that he was invading Miss Darlington’s space while she was away.

He also didn’t trust himself not to insist on accompanying her and her family around the city. Without any of them speaking Turkish or Greek, he worried about them finding their way back. But he had a task to complete and a duty to England.

Besides, there were plenty of British tourists and French nationals they could ask for directions.

With his lock-picking tools in hand, he hurried down the deserted back staircase and entered the guest quarters. Wedmore’s trunk was where he and Petros had left it last night, undisturbed.

The earl had chosen a plain trunk with three locks secured by thick leather straps. The sides were marked with chalk and partially scraped away customs seals, telling the story of his most recent travels—Alexandria, Cyprus, Rhodes, Smyrna, and Athens. Places where Jonathan had always been behind.

Kneeling in front of it, he made quick work of releasing the locks and lifted the lid. Inside, he found neatly folded gentleman’s attire and a couple of simple ladies’ gowns. Several books were stacked alongside the clothes, their spines faded and gilded titles illegible from frequent handling. A green one looked familiar. He pulled it from the stack and sank to his haunches.

Rhythms of Ancient Life: A Study of Frame Drumming and Spiritual Transcendence by Sir Jonathan Hackberry.

He grew lightheaded staring at his only published book. Charles Wedmore, one of the most accomplished antiquarians in the world, had read his work. A smile broke across his face as he opened the well-worn cover. And it appeared that Wedmore had read it more than once.

Among the books, he found a leather-bound journal, but a brief flip through the pages revealed nothing of interest. Mundane observations about the weather, meals served aboard ship, how many whales were sighted along the voyage. Either Wedmore’s journal was a decoy, or he was researching a cure for excitement. Jonathan tossed it on the bed and ran his fingers along the trunk's edges, searching for irregularities.

There!

The slight gap between the bottom panel and the sides easily could have been missed. He removed the trunk’s contents, laying the stacks in order on the floor so he could return them exactly as he’d found them. The hidden latch clicked and the false bottom lifted without a sound. He peered inside, his pulse racing.

It was empty.

With a frustrated growl, he closed the hidden compartment.

“What now?” he murmured.

Clearly, Wedmore’s trunk had been designed to hide valuables—possibly sensitive information, given his profession. So why was it empty? Wedmore must have taken everything with him.