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“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Nick, please,” Alice whispered urgently. “What are you doing?”
Nick was going off script.
Way off.
“How remarkable,” exclaimed Mr. Vidyasagar. “Then who translated it?”
“A Hatherly,” Nick said with a smug smile.
Alice kicked his shin under the table.
“Are you saying that you translated it, Lord Hatherly?” Mr. Carey asked.
Nick completely ignored her frantic signals. “The erudite example of scholarship you praised earlier was produced by none other than my wife.”
Mr. Vidyasagar’s jaw dropped, and Alice half-started out of her chair. “Nick—no!”
This was not what they’d agreed upon.
“Alice,” he whispered, “I’ll be damned if Fred, or I, take the credit for all of your hard work.”
Mr. Carey stared over his spectacles. “Do you mean to tell me, Lord Hatherly, that Lady Hatherly translated this manuscript?”
“That’s precisely what I’m telling you.” Nick leaned back in his seat.
He obviously thought he was doing something noble but now her scholarship would be buried, passed over... her translation would never see the light of day.
“Nick,” she said sternly, “may I have a word?”
He blithely ignored her. “Old Fred and I, we don’t have a way with words. But Lady Hatherly here? Words are her bread and butter and foreign languages are her cup of tea.”
“You’re having us on,” scoffed Mr. Carey.
Alice’s shoulders stiffened, her ire centering on a new target. “You don’t think me capable of such a thing?”
Nick grinned. “That’s right, you show them, darling.”
The cat was out of the bag, so to speak. She may as well admit to it now.
“Frankly, no,” replied Mr. Carey.
Mr. Vidyasagar looked more circumspect. “Perhaps you helped your brother with the translation, Lady Hatherly? As his amanuensis?”
Alice narrowed her eyes. They didn’t think she could read the text?
She’d show them.
She spread out one of the long, thin palm leaves. Drawing her finger across the etched black text, she began to read and she didn’t stop until both of the scholars were gaping at her with shocked expressions.
Mr. Vidyasagar raised his thick, dark eyebrows. “Well, this does change things.”
“My turn,” Nick said gleefully.
Alice gave him a withering glance, but he spread out a new page. He made a show of peering closely, and hemming and hawing.
“Ah, yes,” he said in a scholarly tone. “Scratch, scratch, squiggle. Flourish, little snake, big snake, big squiggle—”
