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Chapter One
London, England, May 1876
Norah Wright staredin disbelief at the director of the Museum of Antiquities. “What do you mean he’s not here?”
The stocky, middle-aged man adjusted his round spectacles and cleared his throat. What little grey hair he had was swept over the top of his balding head in a failed attempt to hide it. Someone should tell him he needn’t bother.
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Wright. I do realize this is the second time his lordship has failed to keep your appointment.” Mr. Stockton pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and popped open the lid as if checking the time would somehow bring his employer to the museum. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping him.”
Norah scowled. She had a suspicion of the reason—the fact that she was a woman. Over the past six months, she had encountered more than her fair share of prejudice from men. As a petite blonde, men seemed to assume she didn’t have a thought of her own, nor could she function without their assistance.
However, she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. That the mysterious Simon Webb, the Marquess of Vanbridge, had failed to meet her a second time was no reason to make assumptions. Perhaps he had a valid excuse, though she was highly doubtful of it.
Leo Stanton, the Earl of Marbury and her soon to be brother-in-law, had warned her that the marquess was a bit of a recluse and rarely attended social events. Marbury had offered to send a message to Vanbridge on her behalf, but this was something Norah wanted to do on her own.
Since it was a business matter for Vanbridge’s museum, she’d been certain he would keep the appointment. When he hadn’t shown up for the first meeting, she’d relented and used Marbury’s name when making the second one, not that it had done any good.
“Why would he agree to the meeting if he had no intention of keeping it?” Norah asked, holding tight to her patience.
“It’s not that he doesn’t intend to keep his appointments. More than likely, he simply forgot.”
“My time is just as important as his.” Norah patted her reticule, which contained the carefully wrapped items she wanted to show the marquess to see if he would display them in his museum. “I even brought the artifacts with me.”
“Oh?” Mr. Stockton’s brows rose with interest. “I would be delighted to examine them. I’m certain I can make the proper arrangements for you if they’re of value.”
“No.” Marbury had advised her to talk with Vanbridge. No one else would suffice. “I must speak directly with the marquess. These artifacts will not be stuffed in a corner or placed on a dusty shelf.”
“I can assure you that I—”
“No, thank you.” Norah had only just retrieved the items from the previous museum that had “displayed” them. However, she’d had trouble finding them, despite knowing exactly what she was looking for. How could anyone else possibly view them? That was not what she’d had in mind when she’d started this quest.
Her father, David Wright, had died nineteen months ago while digging in a shaft for treasure on Oak Island in the wilds of Nova Scotia. The items in her reticule, along with a journal her father had kept, were the few items of David Wright’s they still had.
Norah intended to find a museum willing to display the artifacts and share her father’s story of treasure hunting to honor his memory. Never had she realized how difficult finding the right museum would be. The men in charge made vague promises of displaying the pieces but never followed through. Her father’s artifacts were merely more items in a building filled to the roof with random relics.
That simply wouldn’t do.
Norah wanted a special exhibit to honor David Wright’s years of work. Seeing how poorly the two other museums had treated the display of the artifacts made her even more determined to see it done properly. She was not about to hand over the items to another museum employee who wouldn’t follow through with her request.
“I must speak with the marquess personally.”
“Of course.” Mr. Stockton’s lips tightened with displeasure.
Norah lifted her chin, not caring if this man thought her a meddlesome female. She knew what she wanted and intended to get it. While she wasn’t the dutiful daughter that Ella was or the sunny one like Lena, this was something she was well-suited to do. Something sheneededto do.
With nowhere else to go, Norah and her sisters had arrived in London a few months after their father’s death to meet their estranged grandfather, the Duke of Rothwood.
However, they had been less than welcomed. The duke had cut all ties with his only child, Lady Bethany, when she’d chosen to elope with David Wright. Unfortunately, their mother had died six years earlier, having never reconciled with her father.
It had taken Norah and her sisters months to convince the duke to finally lower his defensive walls and allow them to truly become part of his life. While Norah could use her grandfather’s name to convince the marquess to aid her, she preferred not to.
“The only thing I can offer is to make another appointment,” Mr. Stockton said with reluctance. “I will make certain his lordship is aware of it. Perhaps I could send a message to remind him of the meeting.”
The way the man’s brow puckered as he mentioned the latter suggested even that might not bring the marquess to the museum.
Norah considered her options. No purpose would be served in making another appointment. It would be a waste of her time. She could think of only one option. If the marquess wasn’t going to come to her, she would go to him. She chose to ignore the voice in the back of her mind that reminded her women didn’t pay calls on men. Especially unmarried ladies to unmarried men.
But this was a business matter, she told herself. Society’s rules didn’t necessarily apply.
