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Her grandfather’s stern expression shifted into a devilish smile. “That woman is unpleasant at best and a scheming busybody at worst. I don’t want her to think she can meddle with you or your sisters without answering to me.”
“Thank you.” Norah lifted on her toes to kiss his cheek. “That was a much more satisfying conclusion to her visit than it would’ve been otherwise.”
“Hmm.” He looked rather uncomfortable at her display of affection. Norah liked to think he would eventually become used to it.
In some ways, he wasn’t so different than Simon, living alone for so many years. He didn’t trust others easily. Conversing was awkward at times. But they both had a heart of gold as far as she was concerned.
She didn’t care what the Countess of Mendenhall said. She was honored to know Simon and hoped to continue this relationship with him for the foreseeable future. If he allowed it.
Chapter Eighteen
The next museumSimon visited was the Museum of Archaeological Findings on Manchester Square. The three-story brown brick mansion boasted white stone that framed tall, arched windows as well as stucco cornices. The building was a pleasure to look at, even if Vincent Evans, the man who ran it, was a pompous ass.
However, it truly was one of the better museums in all of London. Simon refused to allow his personal distaste for the man to interfere with business. Or at least, he tried not to. He and Evans had become rivals of a sort over the years.
Not for the first time, he wished he hadn’t allowed his research to take precedence over the time he spent at his museum after hiring Stockton as director. Simon had no one to blame but himself for the decline in visitors over the past six months. Thank goodness Norah had entered his life with her request for an exhibit. Otherwise, he might not have realized how the museum was declining until it was too late.
After alighting from the carriage and requesting Jarvis to wait, he walked through the well-maintained garden and entered the building. He decided to look around before he approached Evans, so paid for a ticket, shocked at how expensive it was. Simon had no intention of increasing his own admission price. He would prefer more people enjoy the collection rather than only those with money.
He meandered through the lower floor, noting only a few other visitors looking at the exhibits. One room displayed oil paintings, which were new to the museum. They didn’t seem to fit with the theme of the place, but perhaps they’d been donated.
The next floor had actual archeological finds, which Simon found more interesting. However, the exhibits weren’t particularly unique, merely groupings of items with little to no explanation of how they’d been found or what their purpose was.
“Vanbridge?” Simon turned to see Vincent Evans approaching. The tall, slender man had a receding hairline with a widow’s peak made more defined by his black hair and pale skin. His prominent cheekbones lent him a gaunt look. Evans bowed, then lifted a brow. “Have you resorted to spying on the competition?”
“It’s always interesting to visit your museum and see what new finds you have on display.” Simon didn’t add that he thought the exhibits needed to be improved.
Evans beamed as if Simon had paid him a fine compliment. “We pride ourselves on excellence.”
Rather than deny the man’s claim, Simon moved on to the reason for his visit. “I was hoping to have a word with you while I’m here, if you have a moment.”
Evans made a show of pulling a gold pocket watch from his striped waistcoat to check the time. “I suppose I can spare a few minutes.”
Simon clenched his jaw. He’d been speaking with him for less than three minutes and was already struggling to hold his patience. “Good.”
Evans led the way out of the room and down a narrow, rather dark corridor with several signs noting the area was for staff only. He opened the second door on the right where a small office was brightened by two tall windows with red velvet drapes and gold sashes. Simple yet elegant furnishings were inside, including a desk, shelving, a table, and chairs.
Evans glanced around the office, seeming to make certain all was in order. Did he worry he’d left something out that Simon might see? Evans walked to the table, gestured toward the chairs, and they both sat. “What’s on your mind?” Then he lifted a finger in the air to stop Simon from saying anything. “Allow me to guess. Does this have anything to do with the recent thefts at your museum?”
“In part, yes.” Simon was somewhat surprised the man knew of the situation since Thompson hadn’t. Though it wasn’t as if museum owners gathered monthly to share such information.
“Terrible situation.” Evans steepled his fingers, elbows braced on the table. “Who would do such a thing?”
Simon studied the other man, trying to determine why he had the impression that Evans was making an effort to look dismayed and sincere. “Who indeed?” Simon let the question hang in the air between them.
Evans cleared his throat as he lowered his hands. “Do you have any leads?”
“The police are narrowing down the potential suspects.” In truth, Simon hadn’t been in touch with the authorities for several days. Not since the morning after his injury. He didn’t think they’d made any progress on the case. Evans didn’t need to know that.
Simon found it interesting to note the faint widening of Evans’ eyes at the news.
“You involved the police?” Evans asked.
“Of course. I’m sure you heard that I interrupted someone a few days ago and was struck on the head from behind.” Again, Simon watched for his reaction.
A flash of displeasure showed on the man’s face. Almost as if expressing concern was an afterthought, Evans said, “I hope the injury wasn’t significant.”
“Actually, it was.” Simon wasn’t certain why he said that. Perhaps just to see his reaction.
