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Chapter Six
Cheetham Hall, Sussex
Two days later
They had only been married for a week, Emily thought as she sat down to breakfast, but she already felt a sense of companionable comfort in the daily routine they had established.
“It’s from Aberdeen,” Deo said, breaking open the letter beside his breakfast plate. “He says,” his eyes scanned the page as he spoke, “that there is a find he wants us to investigate. Good lord, it’s at The Castle!”
“Where?” Emily said, pausing with her buttered toast halfway to her mouth.
“The Duke of Troubridge’s place. Well, well, that is a turn up for the books. You’ll like this; it’s a Celtic cross with a possible burial. How about that?” He lowered the letter and grinned at her.
“Oh!” The Duke of Troubridge! She swallowed a sip of tea, trying to compose her thoughts.
“Aren’t you excited? This is right in your sphere.”
“Yes, yes, very excited, I—I was just surprised, that’s all.”
“We will need to leave at once. It will take us several days to get there. The Castle is in Leicestershire.”
Don’t panic! Will the Duke of Troubridge even remember you? Yes, silly, he’s not in his dotage! He danced with you several times. Mama was ecstatic, she thought he was a serious contender!
“Robert must have written to the Antiquaries Society to report the find. I remember him—or was it Emrys?—mentioning it last year. Aberdeen seems to think it might be significant and urges us to investigate immediately.”
“You know the Duke of Troubridge?”
“Lord, yes. He’s one of my closest friends. We went to Cambridge together.”
“Oh. That—that’s nice.”
“He married Sarah Watson. Lovely woman, you’ll like her—she’s about your age,” he said, oblivious to her internal turmoil.
What am I going to do? The duke will be sure to recognize me. There is no help for it. I will have to reveal my true name and age. But when will be the best time to do it? Not—not now. Her craven heart pleaded.
A week of marriage to Deo had already taught her to pick her moments. He had warned her his temperament was volatile. She should have listened to him. He could go from seemingly quite jovial and happy, like now, to a thundercloud in the twinkling of an eye and for a bewilderingly wide array of reasons that made little obvious sense. As his wife, however, she thought it behooved her to learn to understand those reasons and seek ways to ameliorate them. After all, he was a wonderful man with a brilliant archaeological mind, and—she trembled a little with giddiness at the reality—he was now her husband.
Her momentary euphoria dipped. Telling him she had lied to him about her name and age were going to be two reasons for him to be quite justifiably angry with her, and she needed to pick a moment when she could manage his response. Twenty years acquaintance with her mother had taught her a lot about handling people with an uncertain temper.
“Shall we take Kester?” she asked, postponing the inevitable.
“Of course. Go and have a look at the library, my dear, and select the texts you might need. I’ll get out my dig equipment.” He rose, rubbing his hands. “This will be fun!”
She nodded and rose as well, remembering to smile. It is a wonderful opportunity. A literal dream come true, if I didn’t have this cloud of deceit hanging over me. Making her way to the library, she supposed it served her right for lying in the first place. She should have told him the truth before they were married. But she had been afraid he wouldn’t go through with it and that he would contact her parents and send her home. He might still do that!
A little voice in her head said, No, he won’t! I won’t let him!
*
They left for Leicestershire the next day. Deo had decreed they would stay in his townhouse in London on the way. What a difference there was between traveling in one’s own, comfortable, well-sprung carriage with a team of fast horses and biding one’s time in a lumbering stagecoach. The trip that had taken her over four days on her own, they accomplished in one. A long day it was, true—but a single day, nevertheless. But then they didn’t have to trudge miles on foot, carrying a heavy bag, and wait for hours for a coach, all the while terrified her father would appear to drag her home. And they didn’t have to change coaches twice with lengthy waits between each and then walk miles at the other end, again with a heavy bag.
This journey was quite pleasant, all things considered. Kester slept on the forward seat, and she and Deo shared the other. At one point Deo looked up from his book and said, “We should stay in London long enough for you to buy some clothes. You didn’t bring many gowns with you, did you?”
Startled, she said, “No, I—” She had been going to say she had planned to have her things sent on, but of course she couldn’t do that. Oh, gosh, if I go shopping in Bond Street, I could run into Mama. “I don’t need gowns, Deo. Really, what I have is adequate for grubbing about in a dig!” she protested.
He shook his head. “We will be staying with the duke and duchess. They may well be entertaining; they often are. You will need evening dress suitable for dinner, apart from anything else.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t think of that.”
