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The realization of her attraction was alarming. She’d met numerous gentlemen over the last year but had never felt this hum under her skin, as if her senses were somehow attuned to him.
Then again, if she’d found someone who caught her interest, how perfect that he was a reclusive gentleman who avoided social engagements. She wouldn’t be tempted to deepen their brief association. And Vanbridge’s obvious preference for researching history was yet another strike against him. She wanted a husband who cared more for her than whatever he found carved on a rock or buried in the ground.
The admission nearly caused her to grimace, making her feel even guiltier because of what she’d said to her father before his death.
While she would like to eventually marry and have a family, that would be several years from now—after she’d filled her life with experiences and activities that she hadn’t been able to enjoy while living in a remote area.
However, she wasn’t averse to a minor flirtation with the handsome marquess. Especially when their association would be so brief.
“My lord.” Norah dipped into a curtsy, pleased when Vanbridge bowed. He hadn’t bothered to do so yesterday. No doubt he’d forgotten. “I’m so pleased you’re here.”
He appeared nonplussed at her warm greeting. She shouldn’t delight in throwing him off balance, but she did.
The marquess cleared his throat, then nodded at Mr. Stockton before gesturing toward his office door. “Shall we have a look at what you brought?”
“Yes.” She smothered the unexpected urge to say something flirtatious. She never did so normally. Not when doing so might cause an unwanted suitor to have unrealistic expectations.
Vanbridge unlocked his office door and held it open for her.
Norah stepped inside, eager to see this version of his workspace. Her expectations were met with disappointment. Nothing showed his personality. Not like his personal study had.
Only a simple desk and chairs were in the room, along with a pleasant watercolor on one wall. At least there was a chair before his desk here. She took a seat and adjusted her skirts before setting her reticule carefully on the floor.
The marquess started to close the door only to stop, making Norah wonder if James had frowned at him. The footman was rather protective of Norah and her sisters.
After leaving the door partially ajar, Vanbridge rounded the desk and sat, looking over the empty surface as if he expected something to be on it. Those small moments of uncertainty brought forth an urge to aid him, as if he needed a friend to guide him.
How silly. He was a marquess, not a young boy, and older than her own twenty-two years if she were to guess. No doubt those moments of hesitation were caused by how rarely he went out in public. He seemed to feel the need to think through what he should do before he acted. If only she didn’t find that so appealing.
Resisting the urge to wave a hand before her suddenly flushed face, she drew a slow breath instead and reached for the reticule only to halt. She needed to state her argument for the exhibit carefully. Handing over the artifacts without a proper explanation wouldn’t do.
“May I tell you a story?” she asked.
He looked at her for a long moment, his green eyes steady. “Yes.”
The simple reply after he considered the question released a flurry of butterflies inside her. Heaven forbid if this man ever graced a ballroom with his presence. The ladies would swarm him.
She shoved aside the ridiculous notion and gathered her thoughts. This was important, and she needed to take care with not only what she said but how she said it.
“Over twenty-five years ago, an adventurer met a lady and shared his dream of finding buried treasure on a remote island. The lady was so intrigued by the man and his passion for the quest that she gave up everything to help him pursue it.” She drew a breath to ease the well of emotion that filled her as she considered just what her mother had given up. That wasn’t her concern today. “But the story began long before that.
“In January of 1698, Captain William Kidd worked as a Scottish privateer. He and his crew overtook an Indian vessel, theQuedagh Merchant, said to have 15,000 British pounds onboard. Kidd captured the ship and took the loot, causing a protest to arise throughout the British Empire. Upon learning he’d been accused of piracy, Kidd sailed for New York with the hope his influential friends there would aid him. After all, he believed what he’d done was legal. But he was arrested anyway.”
“What happened to the treasure?”
“Excellent question.” She smiled. “He hid it for safekeeping before his arrest so he might use it to barter for his freedom.”
Norah pulled out a booklet from her reticule and handed it to him. “Perhaps you’ve seen this publication printed in America that details the life, trial, and execution of Kidd.”
“I can’t say that I have. Pirates aren’t a focus of mine.” His frown concerned her. She would much rather his interest was caught.
“I understand,” she said. “But that’s exactly why this exhibit will be perfect for us both.”
“How so?”
“A different sort of exhibit could bring new visitors to the museum. And you would provide a fresh view on my father’s artifacts rather than adding them to any pirate-related items the museum already has.”
“Hmm.” He read the headlines on the front page of the booklet, then met her gaze with a raised brow as if intrigued. “This contains letters from Kidd’s wife?”
