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Simon cast a glare at Stockton, not appreciating the man’s doubt. The director’s apology to Miss Wright on Simon’s behalf was unacceptable. Simon expected a certain level of support from the director. “You may go.”
“My lord, I only thought—” he began.
“We will discuss it later.”
“Very well.” With a stiff bow, Stockton departed.
Simon turned back to Miss Wright, trying to think of an explanation for the incident, but her focus remained on the exhibit, much to his relief.
“This is amazing. I am so honored by the work you’ve done.” She reached out to touch his arm, as if she’d forgotten her servants stood nearby.
Only then did he realize he was still in his shirtsleeves. Her touch burned, even through her gloves. Thoroughly unsettled, he stepped away to retrieve his suit coat from the back of a chair and shrugged into it. Should he apologize for his state of undress?
“Did you do it all yourself?” she asked.
“Not everything.”
She turned to look about the room. “How do you think the unveiling will be done?”
“A curtain will hang in the doorway. If you’d like, you could say a few words in the outer room. Then you and your sisters would pull aside the curtain and lead the way into the exhibit.” He pointed to the replica of a shaft. “People can start here and gain a sense of what it might be like to stand in one, then move on to the other items before exiting the display over there.” He pointed to the far wall where an archway led to the next room.
“You’ve added so much more to it than just the items I provided.”
The remark had him studying her expression to see if that was good or bad. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell, though she was obviously pleased overall with the exhibit.
“I know there are differing ideas as to whether there’s any treasure buried on the island, as well as who hid it there,” he said. “Why not present what we know and allow the visitor to decide what they want to believe?”
“My lord, you are brilliant.” Norah’s beaming smile had him smiling in return. “Ella and Lena are going to love it as much as I do. How can I ever thank you for this?”
“Perhaps by allowing me to remain home the evening of the unveiling.”
She laughed, seemingly unaware he was serious. The lovely sound washed over him like rain on a parched desert. “That’s not possible. Everyone will want to speak to you about your work and my father’s. He would appreciate this very much, as well.” She blinked several times.
Concern shot through him at the thought of her crying. He had no experience with tears. He stepped forward to touch her arm, uncertain what to say to comfort her. To his surprise, she placed her gloved hand over his for a moment, the connection again sending a sizzle over his skin, leaving goose pimples in its wake.
Then she released him to move toward the display case and examine the contents more closely. “I have received acceptances from nearly forty people already. I wouldn’t be surprised if well over fifty attend.”
“Oh?” He knew he should think of the news as a good thing, but the thought of all those people made him uncomfortable. Crowds were normally something he avoided. He never felt as if he belonged.
“Do not worry. I have the refreshments in hand. We’ll offer champagne, of course. Can you show me where the refreshment table should be placed? We’ll have music as well.”
By the time Miss Wright departed, Simon’s head spun. Her excitement and the details she’d planned were a force, much like standing on a cliff near the sea in a gale. It was almost enough to make him consider attending the party. Bemused, Simon went up to his office to update Stockton and to give him a piece of his mind. No longer would he allow anyone to cause him to doubt himself.
“My lord.” The museum director jumped to his feet the moment Simon reached his office. “I am terribly sorry for the misunderstanding. You see, I—”
“If you ever speak disrespectfully to me again, you will need to find yourself a new position. Do I make myself clear?”
“Of course, my lord. Again, my apologies.” Stockton’s gaze fell on something past Simon’s shoulder. “If you’re done with the supplies, I’ll have Emerson clean up the area.”
Simon turned to see a thin man near his own age dressed in a modest brown suit standing behind him. “Emerson?”
“He replaced Wallaby,” Stockton said. “I’m sure you remember me telling you that several days ago.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Simon shook the man’s hand, ignoring Stockton’s question because he didn’t remember anything of the sort. Was his memory so poor or were his listening skills the problem? While aware of his absentmindedness at times, moments like this were highly disturbing.
Hadn’t he just told himself that he wouldn’t allow anyone to make him doubt himself? Yet once again, the unsettling feeling washed over him, making him wonder what else he’d forgotten.
Chapter Four
