Page 77 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“Only a few weeks,” Evangeline said. “We are newlyweds.”

“It is good that you travel together. Your bond will grow stronger.”

When Evangeline gazed up at him, her cheeks were flushed. He drew her closer.

“May I see my uncle now, First Matron?”

Nekara spoke to the guard, then smiled at Evangeline. “Menar will escort you.”

Jonathan’s muscles tensed. The leader of the hunting party understood English. Nekara was testing them.

Evangeline bowed to show her respect. “Thank you, First Matron.”

“Nekara.”

“Yes, thank you, Nekara.”

As Jonathan and Evangeline reached the tent flap, Nekara asked, “What brings English subjects to the Ottoman Empire? It is an unusual choice.”

Evangeline squeezed his hand and turned back toward the chief’s wife. “Jonathan’s father was an antiquarian. He brought his family here years ago, and Jonathan has always wanted to return.”

“And you became performers?”

“It’s a temporary arrangement. Jonathan wants to follow in his father's footsteps, but we need the means to fund a dig.”

Nekara’s face darkened. “Are you a grave robber?”

“Never,” Jonathan said firmly. “Sacred ground should not be disturbed. I’m interested in the daily lives and ceremonies of forgotten civilizations.”

She raised one sculpted eyebrow. “I expect you will show what you have learned about ceremonies this evening. I am curious about your performance.”

Jonathan bowed. “Performing for you is a great honor.”

Menar was waiting outside. He squinted as midday sunlight thrust through the clouds. His mouth was firm, his face as still as if he were carved from teak wood. “Follow,” he said, then turned on his heel.

Evangeline hurried to keep up, two of her shorter strides equaling one of Menar’s. Jonathan stayed by her side. He studied their surroundings and memorized the path as best as he could as Menar led them through the maze of tents.

“Will we meet the chief this evening?” Evangeline asked, sounding winded.

Menar slowed his pace and glanced over his shoulder. “You met her. The Vashren is away.”

They turned a corner, and Menar stopped in front of a tent. The only thing that set it apart from the others was the hulking guard blocking the entrance. Their guide spoke to the man, and he moved aside. Jonathan’s chest tightened. Their cover story could be ruined as soon as they walked inside.

Evangeline walked in first and gasped. “Uncle Charles!”

Jonathan entered as she rushed toward Wedmore’s slumped figure. His mouth was slack, his eyes wide. The sour scent of old sweat hung in the air.

Menar pushed in behind Jonathan.

Evangeline dropped to the ground and threw her arms around her uncle’s thin body. He couldn’t hug her in return because his hands were tied behind his back.

“Uncle Charles, I told you to travel with us. Why do you never listen? You never should have left early for the wedding.” Evangeline spoke rapidly before her uncle could. “We’ve been asked to perform for the Semkari tonight. My husband is playing the drums and dancing.”

Wedmore met Jonathan’s gaze. His jaw twitched. Jonathan signed Safe and Rescue before Wedmore could say something to place them in danger. Wedmore blinked, focusing on Evangeline.

“I’m an old man, Vanna. I do what I want.”

“Vanna.” She snorted and rolled her eyes, though Jonathan noted the small shake in her voice. “You haven’t called me that in years. Just look at you. Have you been eating? You look like a child playing dress up in men’s clothing.”