“Tomorrow I’ll show you some of the highlands’ landmarks.”

Mr. Gallagher pointed to the west, where the sun was beginning its slow descent behind the mountains beyond the loch. “The highest peak is Ben Lawers. I’ve always wanted to climb it.”

Maddie looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“Why not?” He smiled, a smile that began in his blue eyes and slowly reached his lips. “Think of the view from the summit. On the other side of the range lies Glen Lyon, one of the loveliest glens in all the highlands.”

“It sounds spectacular.” She was no longer looking at the mountain, but at Mr. Gallagher. He was a man of action, like her brothers. While she was…What did she have to show for her life?

“Would you like to climb it, too?” His eyes met hers once more.

“Yes,” she found herself saying. “Has any woman ever climbed it?”

There was a challenge in his blue eyes. “What does that matter? You could be the first.”

RUTH AXTELL MORREN

Ruth Axtell Morren wrote her first story when she was twelve—a spy thriller—and knew she wanted to be a writer. There were many detours along the way. She studied comparative literature at Smith College, spent her junior year in Paris, taught English in the Canary Islands and worked in international development in Miami, Florida, where she met her future husband, who took her to the Netherlands to live for six years.

She first gained recognition as a writer when her second manuscript finaled in the Romance Writers of America Golden Heart contest in 1994. Ruth’s first two Steeple Hill novels, Winter Is Past (2003) and Wild Rose (2004) both won awards in contests sponsored by Romance Writers of America. Wild Rose was selected as a Booklist Top 10 Christian Novel in 2005.

After living several years on the down east coast of Maine, Ruth and her family moved back to the Netherlands, to the polderland of Flevoland, where she still lives by the sea. Ruth loves hearing from readers. You can contact her through her Web site: www.ruthaxtellmorren.com.

Ruth Axtell Morren
Hearts in the Highlands

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Susan,

Remember, it’s never too late.

And let us not be weary in well doing, for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

—Galatians 6:9

Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

—Robert Burns,

“Farewell to the Highlands”

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Chapter One

London, 1890

“Imagine waking up, a knife at your throat—”

Since Reid Gallagher stepped into his great-aunt’s parlor, Maddie had been transported to another time and place.

He leaned forward in the velvet upholstered armchair, rumpling the lace covers on each arm with his strong hands.

“It was touch and go for a while there.” Humor underscored the quiet rumble of his words. “They stormed us on horseback, surrounding our camp in the dead of night, brandishing their knives and cudgels. All we could do was fumble for our weapons in the dark—”

Maddie sat riveted, listening to the rugged man with the lean, deeply tanned face, sun-bleached sandy hair and thick mustache a shade darker. His words evoked a kaleidoscope of images—a British surveying party in the midst of the lonely desert, the night air cool, the stillness broken by a band of rebels, the neigh of horses and bray of camels….

“Oh, dear heavens!” Lady Haversham left off stroking her Yorkshire terrier. “Was anyone killed?”

He looked down, his tone grim. “Two, including Colonel Parker, the head of our expedition. Our men rallied immediately, of course. We sleep with our weapons near at hand, so we were able to rout the group in no time—”

“My smelling salts!” Lady Haversham fanned her face. “I feel about to faint. Madeleine!” The terrier, Lilah, jumped up with a sharp bark.

Maddie hurried to her employer’s side. “Hush, Lilah!”

“Do please hurry.” Lady Haversham sat with her head against the antimacassar, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow.

Maddie reached for the tapestry bag that kept a host of things Lady Haversham might need at any given moment. In a second, she located the small vial and waved it under the elderly lady’s nostrils.

She started at the whiff. “Oh!”

Maddie immediately withdrew the vial and fetched a small cross-stitched cushion to place behind her. At the terrier’s continued barking, she took the tiny dog in her arms. “See, your mistress is perfectly fine,” she crooned, petting Lilah’s long, silky hair until the dog was quiet.

“That’s better,” Lady Haversham said. “I felt so light-headed for a moment.” She reached for her pet. “Come, my darling, Mama’s right here.”

The russet-colored terrier settled back down on her mistress’s lap. Mr. Gallagher stood beside his great-aunt’s chair, anxiety etching his brow. Lady Haversham reached out a hand, which trembled slightly. His sun-browned one grasped her pale, age-spotted one like a great bird enfolding a baby bird under its wing.

“You see, my boy, how I am. I’m so glad you’ve come home at last.” Her voice quavered while her watery blue eyes gazed up into his with relief.

Mr. Gallagher’s glance shifted to Maddie, and she was struck by their light hue against his dark, weathered features, like finding a bright blue marble amidst rough burlap. She gave a hesitant smile, wishing to reassure him. If only she could tell him a week didn’t go by that Lady Haversham wouldn’t come near to dying in one form or another.

But Mr. Gallagher had turned his attention back to his great-aunt. “Maybe I should call your physician?”

“No, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll be well if I just sit quietly.” She closed her eyes again, but kept her hold on her nephew’s hand, her gnarled fingers clutching it as if to a lifeline.

“I worry about you, living so far away in a heathen land. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you. You and Vera are my only relations.”

Something flickered in the tall man’s eyes, as if he weren’t used to having any emotional ties. “You needn’t have worried. You see me here fit as always. Don’t upset yourself anymore thinking of it.”

Lady Haversham reopened her eyes. “I can’t help it. Thank God you’re back on British soil. At least this incident caused your return, for which I am grateful. I hope you are home in England for good.”

“I’m back for a few weeks, at any rate.” His tone betrayed no joy at the fact. “Until the two governments satisfy themselves that it’s safe to continue our work.”

When it appeared his aunt had recovered, Mr. Gallagher slowly disengaged his hand from hers. “The situation as it stands now is that two bands of Bedouin presently think they own the Sinai. There are continual skirmishes between the two tribes. Our British party happened to be caught in the middle of this one. The Tuara who attacked our camp wanted to make sure we were hiding no Tiyaha among us.”

Lady Haversham waved away his description. “Oh, it’s too confusing for me. All I know is my heart can’t take the thought of you among those savages.”

“Well, you needn’t fear for now. The attack on our camp stopped all work while both the Egyptian and British authorities investigate things.” He moved back a pace and ran a hand through his hair, leaving the thick blond strands disheveled. Maddie could hear the frustration underlying the words, and she sensed he was a man who wouldn’t willingly endure enforced idleness.

Lady Haversham continued to stroke Lilah’s long hair. “Well, I am thankful for that at least. Please ring for some tea, Madeleine. I’m sure we could all use some. This news has been most upsetting….” The old lady brought her lace-edged handkerchief up to her mouth and shook her head.

“Of course.” Maddie headed for the bellpull.

With a last look at his aunt, Mr. Gallagher returned to his chair. “I’m sorry, Aunt Millicent. I shouldn’t have been so blunt.”

“It’s not your fault. You haven’t been back in a few years. It’s understandable you didn’t realize my frail condition. The least thing upsets me. It’s my heart, you see. Dr. Aldwin says I mustn’t have anything upset me.”

“I didn’t realize how…delicate you’d become since I last saw you.” He gave an awkward laugh. “I’ve been so far from British society during that time, in the company of men, I’ve forgotten how to put things more gently for a lady’s ears.”

“Good heavens, you mustn’t let yourself become uncivilized.” Lady Haversham sat straighter, letting the cushion fall to the floor and causing Lilah to let out a bark. “We shall have to remedy that now you’re back in London. Of course, I no longer entertain. My nerves can’t take crowds. But your sister and her husband can organize things.”

He leaned forward, alarm in his blue eyes. “Aunt Millicent, you know I’m not interested in attending parties—”

“Nonsense. Your friends and acquaintances want to know you’re back in town. It would be a disservice to deprive them of your company.”

He scrubbed a large hand across his jaw, as if wanting to argue the point but afraid of upsetting his aunt further.

Maddie resumed her own seat and took up her needlepoint.

His aunt settled Lilah back down. “As I was saying, Vera will hold a few teas for you, perhaps a musicale one evening.”

“I’m here only to cool my heels until the ambassador finds out what kind of trick the sultan is playing—”

“I know you don’t like to socialize. But your friends will be hurt if you come stealing into town like a thief in the night, no one the wiser.”

“I only came back because I was forced to….”

Maddie wrenched her attention away from this interesting exchange when a black-clad maid with frilly white apron entered the room. Knowing exactly how Lady Haversham preferred her tea, Maddie set about pouring the older lady’s cup first. But her heart couldn’t help being moved by the man who so clearly felt out of his element in London. She remembered her own difficulty readjusting to England when she and her family had first returned from the Middle East.

Maddie placed the cup and saucer beside Lady Haversham and took Lilah from her. “Give her a little platter of cake.”

“Yes, my lady.” Maddie set the miniature dog on the carpet, knowing she’d probably have to clean up after her within the hour. As she approached Mr. Gallagher’s chair, the dog following at her heels, Maddie felt a tremor of nervousness at addressing him directly. “How do you take your tea?” she inquired above Lilah’s barking.

“Just one lump and a wedge of lemon, thank you.” He spared Maddie only a glance then sat back, an elbow against the chair’s arm, his fingers idly smoothing his mustache, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Very good,” she said, stifling the desire to be noticed by this man. By now she should be used to being overlooked by Lady Haversham’s visitors like another piece of furniture in the room. Taking herself to task, she walked back to the tea cart. The terrier jumped onto the settee and leaned eagerly toward the loaded cart, barking her interest in its delicacies. With a grim sigh, Maddie cut her a sliver of cake and placed it on the flower-edged Limoges dessert plate. Lilah was ahead of her, already back on the ground and barking her impatience. Maddie set the treat down on the floor, where Lilah immediately began to devour it, her little body twitching in eagerness.

Maddie proceeded to pour Mr. Gallagher his cup, hoping Lilah would hold down the cake at least until their guest had departed. When she returned to him, he reached for the cup before she had a chance to set it down.

“Thank you. Perfect,” he added with a smile of approval at the wedge of lemon she had set beside the cup on its saucer.

The sudden smile relieved the harshness of his features. Maddie felt a warmth steal over her. Dismayed by her own reaction, she stepped away from him. “Would you care for a slice of cake?”

“That would be fine.” Again he gave her a smile, which affected her more than it should for such a brief, superficial exchange. A part of her yearned to prolong the conversation. Instead, she bowed her head and hurried back to the tea table.

She scolded herself for the pleasure it gave her to fill his request. Knowing how good her employer’s appetite was, Maddie cut Lady Haversham a large slice.

“I’ve brought back some pieces collected last year at a dig in Hawara,” Mr. Gallagher said to his aunt. “The British Museum was quite pleased with them. I’ll be doing a series of lectures while I’m here.”

“Your Uncle George had quite a collection of artifacts himself from all his travels in the Orient.”

He smiled, looking more relaxed than he had since he’d entered the overstuffed room. “Yes, I recall. He used to show me things every time I visited.”

“He had countless items. I’ve kept everything carefully stored in boxes over the years.” She sighed. “If anything should happen to me, what is to become of all of it?”

He cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable with the drift of the conversation.

“There was a pyramid at the site of our dig.”

She brightened. “How fascinating.”

When Maddie had poured her own cup, she set it down to cool and took up her needlepoint. Under the guise of rethreading her needle, she observed Mr. Gallagher, unconcerned that he would notice. His focus was on his great-aunt, as he described the project. Thankfully, Lilah had settled at Maddie’s feet for another nap.

Although he wore a well-tailored sack coat, vest and trousers, the light khaki material of the trousers and the lightweight tweed of his jacket gave Mr. Gallagher a much less formal look than the average man about London. The few gentlemen to visit Lady Haversham—her solicitor, physician and old Reverend Steele—all wore long dark frock coats with matching vests and trousers, their somber colors seeming to underscore their lofty positions.

This man’s lighter-colored garments, like the desert sand, brought a foreign element into the parlor, making the room with its heavy dark furniture and surfaces covered with bric-a-brac suddenly appear more confined and overcrowded than usual.

Maddie drank in Mr. Gallagher’s words as he described the relatively new study of how long-ago civilizations had lived their daily lives. Maddie could picture it all so clearly because she’d spent a good portion of her girlhood in the Holy Land with her missionary parents. Egypt was very close to Palestine, and Mr. Gallagher’s narrative brought back memories of desert sands, swarthy people riding their camels or donkeys and bleached huts at the foothills of scrubby mountains.

As he described the harsh conditions of the dig, Maddie pictured him in wrinkled khakis and tall scuffed boots, a battered hat shading his piercing blue eyes from the sun. She’d noticed their color as soon as she’d been introduced to him, the moment he’d taken her hand in his in a strong, though brief, handshake. She judged him to be in his late thirties or early forties.

Mr. Gallagher would probably be startled at how much she already knew about him. When Lady Haversham wasn’t discussing her various ailments, she boasted of her great-nephew, who had followed in his great-uncle’s footsteps to become an Egyptologist and surveyor to the Crown in the lands between Africa and India.

Maddie’s attention quickened when she heard Mr. Gallagher tell his great-aunt, “The Royal Egypt Fund is sponsoring the lectures. It’s in their interest to promote Egyptology with the general public.”

“Yes, your uncle was on the forefront of getting the government interested in the artifacts over there. You must tell me when you’re to lecture, although I hardly get out anymore, you know. It was a dreadful winter. I didn’t think I’d survive that attack of pleurisy. Then with my usual neuralgia, I don’t know how I manage.”

“My first lecture is at the end of the week.”

“Oh, goodness. Well, this April weather is still much too changeable for me to venture forth.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect you to take any risks with your health.”

Maddie hoped he’d say more about when and where the lecture would be.

There was a lull in the conversation, then Mr. Gallagher said, “I’ve brought back a mummified head.”

“You haven’t!” His aunt’s eyes widened. “How ever did you find one?”

His fingers stroked his chin as he mused, “Sometimes it’s when you stop searching for something that you find it.” His glance crossed Maddie’s at that moment, and she realized she’d been staring at him.

To cover her embarrassment, she blurted out, “Would you like some more tea?”

“Oh, my yes, how remiss of us,” his aunt said immediately.

He looked down at his cup as if he’d forgotten he’d been holding it. “Yes, that would be just the thing.”

Before Maddie could rise, Mr. Gallagher stood and ambled over to the tea cart. Lilah stirred, but she only twitched her nose at the toes of his boots and didn’t bark.

Maddie felt dwarfed by the man’s above-average height as he paused in front of the cart. He continued his line of conversation as he held out his cup and saucer to Maddie with a smile.

“We discovered several mummy portraits dating to the Roman period. The site around the pyramid appears to be a royal burial ground.”

“Your Uncle George always wanted to find some proof of this procedure, but alas, was unsuccessful.”

Maddie poured the tea, hoping her hand didn’t shake. Then she lifted one lump of sugar with the silver tongs and set it into the cup with a small plop, fearful the tea would splatter. All the while, she was aware of his hand holding the saucer. Strong looking, tanned, like his face, to a deep hue. Then she noticed the gold wedding band on his ring finger. Lady Haversham had told her he was a widower of many years. Maddie’s heart went out to him in sympathy, thinking how he must continue to mourn his late wife, if he still wore the ring.

She discarded the used lemon slice and took a fresh one with another pair of tongs, then placed it on the edge of the saucer. There it slipped off, and as her hand flinched, trying to retrieve the lemon, he covered it for an instant with his free one.

“Steady there.” A trace of humor laced his husky voice.

She met his blue gaze and whispered a thank-you. “Anytime,” he murmured, before moving away from her.

She sat for the rest of his visit remembering the feel of his warm palm against her skin. Warm like the Egyptian sun.

Her mother used to say, “Your hands are always like ice.” Her father would immediately reply, “Cold hands, warm heart.”

Was it true? Did she have a warm heart? Sometimes, lately, she felt it squeezed dry by her employer. She shook aside the thought, reminding herself of her Christian duty to serve.

Mr. Gallagher sat back down. “I’ll be featuring the mummy’s head at my first lecture. It should draw a crowd.”

His aunt cut into her piece of cake. “When is the lecture precisely?”

Maddie’s hand stilled on her cup as she listened to his answer.

“The first one will be Thursday morning at ten. Another will be held on Friday afternoon. We’ll judge which times draw the most attendance before scheduling the others.”

Thursday at ten. That would be perfect. Lady Haversham generally didn’t stir until noon. Maddie would have plenty of time to get to the museum and back before she was even missed.

Thursday at ten. She committed the time to memory and determined to read everything she could lay her hands on about Egyptology in the meantime.

A new fear cropped up. Would Mr. Gallagher see her at the lecture? If so, what would he think? She didn’t want to appear forward in any way. After all she was only his great-aunt’s paid companion.

Paid companion. The ugly words reminded her who and what she had been for the last decade of her life.

From a young woman who’d dreamed of serving the Lord on the mission field, to a poorly paid employee at the beck and call of a spoiled society lady, the only difference between Maddie’s position and that of the other servants was the dubious distinction of sitting at her employer’s table. In everything else, she was repeatedly demeaned by word and gesture countless times a day.

Maddie sat back with a sigh, telling herself, as she’d been telling herself each day since she’d begun her job under Lady Haversham, that she should take joy in her service. She’d almost convinced herself until this afternoon, when Reid Gallagher had entered this airless parlor and reminded her of that other world out there that once had been her world, too.

Chapter Two

“These gilded mummy masks are particularly nice specimens.” Reid held up a pair of shiny gold heads for the audience to view. His eyes scanned the packed hall of the British Museum. The Egyptian Fund would be pleased with the sold-out crowd. There were even people standing in the back.

“We also have coverings for the upper parts of the body and the feet.” As he spoke, he set down the masks and took up the carved forms, the former showing crossed arms, and the latter, bare feet molded in gold.

“These were discovered in what we presume is a burial ground in Hawara, a few miles west of the Nile. The pyramid in the midst of this area was the burial tomb of King Amenemhat III.

“We were fortunate to uncover so many undisturbed items. Because they were buried so well, looters hadn’t yet discovered them.”

Reid kept looking from the objects he described to the people in the audience, trying to gauge if they were following what he was saying. He knew from previous presentations that his audience was composed of people from all walks of life. Few would have any in-depth archaeological knowledge.

His eyes swung back from the rear of the hall toward the front. Suddenly, his gaze backtracked, thinking he’d recognized a face. He had to peer behind a lady’s wide straw hat, flanked on either side by two large bird’s wings. A young woman sat behind and to one side of it. She appeared to be listening intently to his talk. A pity that from where she sat, there was little detail she’d be able to discern of the artifacts.

“This king lived in what is known as the Middle Kingdom.” He held up a large sculpted head of the pharaoh, all the while trying to place the face of the young woman. Reid had few acquaintances in London anymore, much less female ones.

Then it came to him. Aunt Millie’s latest companion. Reid glanced once again at the woman in the back as he explained how excavations were carried out. “We use a system called stratification, where a series of layers are carefully dug.”

He walked over to the tables covered with dozens of pots and numerous pottery fragments. “These pieces of sculpture and glazed faience were obtained in this manner. Although it’s more dramatic to come across a large monument like a pyramid, as my acclaimed colleague William Petrie says, to uncover the secrets of the past, it’s much more significant to study the everyday utensils of these buried sites. Hence, our emphasis on pottery shards.”

Although the young woman sat at the very rear of the large hall, Reid was almost sure she was the young lady he’d met in his great-aunt’s parlor the other day. She’d participated little in their conversation, but he’d been impressed with her quiet, competent manner toward Aunt Millie. What a contrast to her previous companions, women of indeterminate age with their nervous titters who fluttered around Aunt Millie every time she had an attack of the vapors.

Reid himself hardly knew how to deal with Aunt Millicent’s nerves. As a boy he’d always been slightly afraid of her exacting ways. He’d been relieved the other afternoon, when he’d thought Aunt Millie about to faint, and the steady Miss Norton had given him a reassuring look. Her light brown eyes had been sympathetic, as if telling him not to worry, she’d been through enough of these spells to manage.

Reid wrapped up the lecture with a brief description of the ancient Egyptian symbols called hieroglyphics that covered several wall painting fragments on display.

As the audience poured out of the lecture hall, Reid was immediately besieged by people asking him questions. He listened patiently and replied as briefly as possible knowing from experience that he could be kept hours after a lecture if he wasn’t careful.

The hall had cleared of most people when he spotted Miss Norton again, this time making her way to the front tables. He was in midsentence with a gentleman.

“Excuse me a moment, would you?”

“Oh—what? Certainly, Mr. Gallagher, certainly.”

Reid headed toward Miss Norton, glad he’d have a chance to repay the woman’s kindness to his aunt. He stood in front of her with a smile. “Miss Norton?”

“Yes?” she said, her eyes widening in surprise. They were the same shade as her hair, a light tawny brown.

“Did Aunt Millicent decide to brave the weather and come to the lecture?”

“Oh, no—that is, she would have liked to but she didn’t feel quite up to it—”

Of course his aunt wouldn’t have come to this crowded lecture hall. Too great a chance of catching some infectious disease. “I understand completely. I hadn’t expected her to show. You came on your own, then?”

Her cheeks deepened with color, creating an attractive effect. “Yes…”

“You’re interested in Egyptology?”

“Yes. It’s a fascinating subject. I—I heard you mention the lecture to Lady Haversham. I thought it would be educational. I used to live in Palestine, you see,” she said quickly, her voice sounding breathless.

He raised an eyebrow, his interest deepening. “Really? When was that?”

She looked away as if embarrassed. “It was years ago, when I was a girl. My parents were missionaries there for some years.”

He sensed more to the story. When she remained silent, he cleared his throat. “I hope you enjoyed the lecture.” Too late he realized it sounded as if he was hunting for a compliment.

“Oh, yes, very much so!”

Her enthusiasm encouraged him. “I’m glad. With a general audience, it’s hard to know whether one is hitting the right note. I don’t like to simplify things too much, but neither do I want to make things so technical I lose people’s understanding.”

“Oh, you adopted just the right tone, I believe. When I looked around me, everyone seemed most attentive to everything you were saying.”

His lips curled up. “No one dozing off or fidgeting?”

She returned the smile. Her mouth was wide and generous, creating the impression that when she enjoyed something, she wouldn’t stint with her feelings. He was struck once again by the color of her eyes, a warm caramel hue. His mother, a painter, had instilled in him a sense of color, line and dimension, especially for the human face.

“I don’t believe so, though the hall was so crowded, I wasn’t able to observe everyone.”

“I usually make eye contact with my audience. That’s how I saw you, although I’m surprised I spotted you, you were so far back.”

She laughed. “I was behind someone with quite a prominent hat.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I noticed the bird hat. It’s a wonder you were able to see any of the artifacts at all. I wished I’d known you were here this morning. I would have had you seated up front.”

“That’s quite all right. I was fine where I was…although it was difficult seeing any of the detail of the objects.”

“Would you like to see them now?”

She moistened her lips, her glance straying to the artifacts. “That’s actually where I was headed when you saw me. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She indicated the group of people waiting to speak to him.

“If you’re worried about them, don’t be. Come along.” Giving her no time for further consideration, nor to ask himself why he was taking the trouble with her, he took her gently by the elbow and directed her toward the front.

“Oh, Mr. Gallagher—” Reid turned to see the museum’s assistant curator approaching him. The slim young man cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “There are some gentlemen, museum patrons, you understand, who wish to have a word—”

“Yes, in a moment.” Before he knew what he was doing, he lowered his own voice, and indicated Miss Norton at his side. “A donor.” He mouthed the words, “Major donor.”

The man’s lips rounded in a silent O. Then he quickly backed away, bowing and smiling to Miss Norton.

Reid led her to the nearest table. When they reached the artifacts, Miss Norton turned to him. “You needn’t stay with me. I don’t want to take you away from those waiting to speak with you—”

For some reason, her very reluctance to keep him at her side strengthened his own resolve to remain there. “I told them you were a possible donor.”

She stared at him. “A what?”

He grinned, and suddenly he felt like a mischievousness boy despite his almost forty years. “If they think you’re a wealthy patroness of the museum, you’re sure to be escorted to the front at the next lecture.”

Her large eyes lit up with amusement. The next second she frowned. “I don’t like being dishonest with people.”

“You weren’t. I was. Being put on the lecture circuit is both a blessing and a curse. Apart from being an archaeologist for the Egyptian Fund, I’m also expected to raise money for future digs.”

“I should think that wouldn’t be so difficult. The place was packed today.”

His eyes scanned the lingering groups of people. “The fund will be pleased. The more we can generate interest in all things Egyptian, the more easily we can seek donations.”

She nodded. “It sounds a little like missionary work. They both depend on funding from home.”

“Yes, indeed.”

He indicated the first display. Miss Norton looked over each artifact, marveling at things that had been preserved for so many centuries beneath the earth. She bent over the gold masks. He was pleased to note she didn’t touch them, but looked at the brilliant surface painted with dark strokes to signal eyes and eyebrows, mouth and nose.

“What did you think of the talk?” Mr. Gallagher stood close to her, keeping his back to the lingering crowd, hoping that would keep them from being interrupted.

“It was wonderful. I never realized there was so much to know about the ancient cultures. When I lived in Palestine, it seemed we were living in Biblical times.”

She continued studying the artifacts, as he explained each one in more detail.

When they headed back to the lobby, a few people immediately came toward him. “Mr. Gallagher—” several voices began at once.

Ignoring them, he turned to Miss Norton, reluctant to end their time together so soon. “The lecture has left me quite thirsty. What about joining me for a cup of tea?”

She swallowed, and he was afraid for a moment she would refuse. “I’d love to,” she finally said, before adding, “but I really need to get back to your aunt.”

He nodded, surprised at the disappointment he felt. “That reminds me…you were very good with her the other day. I wanted to express my gratitude. I thought she was going to faint, and I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

Once again, Miss Norton’s cheeks tinted pink. “By the sounds of it, you’re used to much graver emergencies in the desert.”

“But I’m only used to dealing with men in critical situations. I have no idea how to help an elderly female.”

“Well, thankfully, it was no more than a passing moment and your aunt was perfectly fine afterward.”

“Yes.” His first impression hadn’t been wrong. Miss Norton did understand his aunt.

She moistened her lips and glanced past his shoulder.

Before she’d think of another excuse for turning down his invitation, he held up his hand. “Now, what about that tea? It’ll only take a few minutes. There’s a place right around the corner.”

Instead of replying, she took out her watch. “I have a few minutes before having to return….” Her words came out slowly, as if still debating. “Lady Haversham generally expects me there for dinner at one o’clock.”

He took out his own watch. “It’s only half-past eleven. I’ll make sure you’re back in plenty of time…with time to spare.” Understanding laced with humor underscored his words.

“All right.”

“Good then.” He felt lighthearted all of a sudden. He glanced back around him, knowing he’d have to tell the assistant curator something. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll be right with you. I just need to tell a few people I’m off.” He marked his words with a touch to her elbow, as if afraid she’d disappear into the crowd again.

“Certainly. I’ll get my things from the cloakroom.”

“Good enough.” With another brief smile, he headed away from her.

Maddie was left standing, wondering if she’d done the right thing accepting his invitation.

She retrieved her umbrella and coat, her mind in turmoil. Would she have enough time to swallow down a cup of tea and then walk all the way back to Belgravia? If she should be late for Lady Haversham…

Since she’d begun her employment a year ago, she’d never yet missed a day nor been late when Lady Haversham expected her by her side. Before she had time to wonder about the consequences, Mr. Gallagher returned and once again took her arm. How odd it felt to have a gentleman guiding her in such a protective manner.

Once out of the building, he turned to her. “Do you mind if we walk? I feel I’ve been cooped up all morning.”

“Not at all. I walked to the lecture, as a matter of fact.”

He stared at her. “You’re joking. That’s quite a hike from Belgravia to here.”

Her cheeks warmed and she glanced down. “I enjoy walking. Too much of my time is spent indoors sitting, so I walk whenever I get the chance.” No need to mention that she also did it to save the unnecessary expense of a cab or omnibus.

She sensed his scrutiny. “I imagine my aunt requires you at her side quite a bit.”

She bit her lip, striving to answer honestly, yet not be critical of his relative. “It’s the nature of my job.”

“I suppose so.” He didn’t pursue the subject. No doubt his interest in the topic of paid companions had waned.

By the time they were seated in the tearoom and the waiter had taken their order, Maddie removed her gloves and decided to forget about Lady Haversham and enjoy herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to a public eatery. She glanced around at the charming interior. Dark wood oak beams framed the low ceiling. They sat at a small, round table covered with a spotless white linen tablecloth. A small bouquet of forget-me-nots and daffodils was placed at its center.

Mr. Gallagher leaned forward. “Tell me about your time in Palestine, Miss Norton.”

She folded her hands and looked down at the tablecloth. “There isn’t much to tell. We lived in Jerusalem from when I was eight until I was fourteen.”

“You said your parents were missionaries?”

“Yes.” She was glad to be able to speak about them instead of herself. “Papa felt a call to the mission field when he was a young man—both my parents did, actually. They went to Palestine under the auspices of the Foreign Mission Society, when representatives of the society came to our church to speak one Sunday.”

“I’m surprised they took a young child with them.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Not only one. Three. I have two older brothers.”

He shook his head. “I can’t imagine being responsible for anyone but myself over there. And you all survived your time in the field?”

“Yes. I won’t say it was without incident….” Her words slowed. “My parents probably wouldn’t have come back when they did, but I had fallen ill with malaria.”

“The Middle East can be a harsh place.”

She found him observing her, his long fingers idly smoothing down the ends of his mustache. She could feel her cheeks redden under his gaze, wondering what he saw—a woman past her youth, with eyes that tended to look sad even when she wasn’t, cheeks that gave away her emotions, a too-wide mouth. Her eyelids fluttered downward as the moment drew out.

“Most foreigners succumb to malaria at one time or another. I’ve gone through enough bouts to dread the symptoms.”

She sighed. “I grew to know them quite well. It was after my third attack that my parents decided to return to England.”

He continued stroking his mustache, studying her. He had such a direct way of looking at a person, she felt he could read her innermost thoughts.

“I’m still amazed that a European woman and her three young children survived the experience as long as you did.”

“My two brothers were old enough that my parents would probably have braved it out longer, if they had fallen ill, but I was younger, and somewhat frail when I was a child.” She gazed out the window. Her parents had had to make so many sacrifices on her behalf. She turned back to him, recovering herself with a smile. “My two brothers are now missionaries in their place.”

“In Palestine?”

“No. One is in Constantinople, the other in West Africa.”

He whistled softly. “Your family is spread far and wide. Are your parents still alive?”

“Yes. Papa has a small curacy in Wiltshire.” She steered the conversation away from her family. “Tell me how you came to be involved in Egyptology, Mr. Gallagher.”

He eased back against the small wooden chair. “The question is more, How could I help not becoming involved? I lived a good many years in Egypt when I was growing up. My father was a diplomat. When I came back to England to school, my great-uncle—Lady Haversham’s husband—took up where my life abroad had left off.”

He was interrupted by the waiter bringing them their tea. Maddie absorbed what he’d told her, watching him as he spoke to the waiter. Although he addressed the man casually, seemingly as at ease in this quaint tearoom as in the great lecture hall, she continued to sense a man outside his natural element. Today he was as well dressed as he had been at his aunt’s, in a starched white shirt, finely patterned silk tie and sack coat of dark broadcloth, yet she couldn’t help picturing him in more rugged garb, such as he must wear in the desert.

As she stirred sugar into her tea, Maddie chanced a glance at her own navy-blue dress. It was the same one she’d worn the day he’d come to visit his aunt. Well, that wasn’t surprising, being one of only three gowns she owned. It was certainly appropriate for a paid companion, but not up to standards to be seen in a gentleman’s company. She must look like a nursemaid or governess beside him. What would the waiter or the patrons sitting around them think of such a handsome man escorting such a dowdy female?

The waiter moved away from their table and Mr. Gallagher turned his attention back to her. “I really wanted to thank you today for how you are taking care of Aunt Millicent. You seem to have a way with her.”

“You have nothing to thank me for. I’m just her companion. She has a whole legion of servants to take care of her. As well as a fine physician,” she added, thinking of how often Dr. Aldwin was summoned.

“She seems to rely on you, however.”

Maddie removed the spoon from her cup and placed it on the saucer, uncomfortable with the compliment. “I’m only doing my job.”

“How long have you been a…companion?” He hesitated over the word, as if unaccustomed to the term.

“Since I left home.”

“When was that?”

“When I was eighteen.” In the silence that followed she wondered if he was calculating how old she must be. On the cusp of turning thirty, she could have told him.

He only nodded, and again, she had that sense that he was evaluating her words, taking nothing at face value. He was probably cataloging her as a spinster securely on the shelf.

She shook aside the depressing thought and imagined instead that it was probably a painstaking attention to detail that made him a good archaeologist. She was still amazed he had remembered her name—or her, for that matter. He’d hardly glanced at her during the time he was at his aunt’s for tea.

“How long have you been involved in archaeology?” she asked, returning to the topic she was really interested in.

Humor tugged at his lips, half-hidden by his mustache. “Oh, forever.”

She smiled at his evident pleasure in the topic. “You said Lady Haversham’s late husband was engaged in the field?”

“Yes. Good old Uncle George. It was he who gave me my love of archaeology.”

She hadn’t been with Lady Haversham long enough to know too much about her employer’s late husband, although she knew he had often gone abroad. “Was he an archaeologist?”

“They didn’t have them back then. He was more an adventurer and explorer. When he came to Egypt, he fell under the spell of the pyramids. He began to bring home anything he could find. It was all quite a free-for-all back then—any tourist or traveler taking what he could find, whatever the looters hadn’t gotten over the previous centuries.” His tone deepened to disgust.

Maddie rested her chin on her palm, glad to be taken away from her present world to one so close to that of her girlhood.

“By the time I came back to England, my father had been posted somewhere else. So, I began to spend my summers with Uncle George and Aunt Millicent. He was living in London by then. He’d show me parts of his collection. He had some incredible things—from Greek amphorae to Roman headdresses, but his real love was Egyptian artifacts. He had pottery, jewelry, bits of sculpture.” He sighed. “I don’t think I ever saw the whole thing. I wonder where it all is now.”

“I haven’t been with your aunt for very long. I know she has many things stored away. She often talks of her travels when she was younger. She was very excited when she knew you were coming home.”

He looked sidelong through the window at the street. “I haven’t considered Britain my home in many years.”

Maddie bit her lip, afraid she’d said something wrong. But he turned back to her and began telling her about some of the digs he’d been involved in. Once again she was transported to another time and place, her present dreary existence swallowed up by that other world.

Suddenly a clock tower down the street struck the hour. She sat up and pulled out her watch. It was half-past twelve! “Oh, I really must get back. Thank you so much for the tea.” She began to rise.

“Steady there.” He snapped open his own watch. “You have plenty of time to get back if Aunt Millicent still dines at one. Wait, and I’ll get you a cab.”

Maddie sat back down, but felt the tension grow in her. She had wanted to avoid having to take the omnibus back. What would a hansom cost? Oh, dear, it couldn’t be helped now. She had no time to cover the distance by walking.

Mr. Gallagher signaled the waiter and settled the bill. Maddie had to restrain herself from drumming her fingers on the tabletop. She gathered her bag and gloves.

Finally, he stood and she joined him immediately. “I can catch an omnibus a few blocks from here.”

“Nonsense. You can catch a hansom right out front and it will be a lot quicker.”

She bit her lip and said no more, thinking again how much the fare would cost. After they’d collected her coat and umbrella, they stood on the curb.

It didn’t take Mr. Gallagher long to hail a carriage. When it arrived, she suddenly realized that their morning together was over. It seemed scarcely to have begun. She couldn’t remember a time in her recent memory when she’d had such an enjoyable outing. Disappointment stabbed her.

“I—thank you again,” she said, stumbling over the words in her effort to express her gratitude.

He held the door open for her. “The pleasure was mine. I really wanted to do something for all your kindness to my aunt.”

Maddie held her smile in place, unable to help feeling just a bit disappointed that it hadn’t been more for him than an act of kindness for an employee of his relative. It was thoughtful of him, all the same. Not many family members would take any consideration of a paid companion.

She placed her hand in his to bid farewell, and again she felt his strength and protection—which left her a little bereft when their hands separated.

She settled in the small space of the cab and placed her belongings at her side. Lastly, she took one more look out the window and gave a wave when she saw him still standing on the curb. He was a tall, lean man, his appearance that of a rugged adventurer and explorer, as he’d described his uncle, charmingly out of place on the London sidewalk.

He returned her wave with a small salute of his own, and she had another mental image of him in the desert, a camel as his mode of transportation, a host of Bedouins his companions.

As the carriage made its way from Bloomsbury across town to Belgravia, Maddie took out her purse and got her fare ready. She sighed, knowing she’d have to make up for the money in another quarter. She shook her head. There weren’t many areas where she could cut back more than she already was. She couldn’t not buy stamps for her weekly letters to her parents or brothers.

She was back at Lady Haversham’s much more quickly than she was used to. A glance at her watch told her she still had time to wash up and tidy her hair.

When she descended the cab, she handed the coachman his fare.

“Oh, that’s all taken care of, ma’am.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The gentleman what hailed the cab for you. He took care o’ your fare.” He smiled. “And a generous tip, as well, to get you here quickly.”

She stepped back on the sidewalk, astonishment leaving her speechless.

He tipped his hat to her. “Good day t’ye.” With a snap of the reins, he was off.

Maddie looked after him a moment. She had underestimated Mr. Gallagher’s attention to detail…as well as his kindness. She blushed, as it occurred to her that it only meant he understood the reduced circumstances of a paid companion.

Remembering her duties, she turned about and headed up the walk to the front door. She’d have to thank Mr. Gallagher the next time she saw him.

If there was a next time. Then she remembered his words, At the next lecture. All at once her steps grew lighter as she hurried up the steps.

Chapter Three

A few mornings later, Reid sat in his great-aunt’s parlor for a second visit, this time in answer to a note from her. He’d been intrigued by her words that it was “about an important matter.”

Aunt Millicent sat alone in her parlor, enthroned in her high-backed armchair. Despite her diminutive size, she appeared regal in her dark brocaded gown with several gold chains down the front.

He wondered briefly where her companion was and remembered the pleasant time they’d had over tea. The young lady had been a ready and willing listener, though he’d certainly never meant to go into such detail about his work.

“Thank you, my dear, for coming so quickly.” Reid leaned down to kiss his aunt’s cheek, which was soft and wrinkled but still smelled of the lavender water she’d used as long as he could remember.

“I was happy to oblige.” He took a seat across from her. “Where’s Lilah?” he asked, noting also the absence of the terrier.

“Miss Norton took her out for her morning walk.”

He glanced toward the heavily curtained window. “It’s a bit drizzly for a walk.”

“Oh, Lilah’s walks are very short. Miss Norton will protect her with an ample umbrella.”

He tried to picture the willowy Miss Norton scurrying after the tiny dog, a large black umbrella over them both. He turned his attention back to his aunt. “And how are you on this damp morning?”

She made a face. “Not well, I’m afraid.”

He leaned forward, clasping his hands loosely between his knees. “What is it?”

She patted her chest. “Oh, the usual, dear boy. My heart. Some days I feel I can hardly breathe.”

“I’m sorry. Is there nothing they can do for you?”

“I think I’ve had every pill and potion invented, but to no avail. Dr. Aldwin says I must have total rest, but you know it’s impossible not to worry about things. I find myself lying in bed at night just thinking of you off in foreign parts, and Vera with her children. Little Harry, you know, is going away to school this autumn.” She shook her head. “I do hope they choose the right school for him.”

Reid hid his smile. As long as he could remember his aunt had been a worrier. “Well, I’m glad you sent me a note. I would have come by soon at any rate.”

“I hope I didn’t disturb you at your duties, but I really felt I had to see you after the other day.”

“Tell me what I can do for you.”

“I’ve been thinking about what we discussed.”

He tried to remember what they’d talked about. He hoped she wasn’t still dwelling on the attack on their camp.

“It’s about your Uncle George’s collection.”

Reid was immediately interested. “Yes, I was thinking about it, too, since my visit. He must have some highly valuable pieces in it, from an archaeological standpoint.”

“I’m sure everything in it is of the utmost value.”

He hid another smile, remembering how protective his aunt was of Uncle George’s reputation. “Yes, perhaps so.”

“I would like to ensure that it is well taken care of at my demise.”

He rubbed his hands over his trouser legs, uncomfortable with her behaving as if she was at death’s door each time he visited. “Yes…I suppose it would be good to make some provision if…in the unlikely event…” He coughed, uncertain how to proceed.

“I’m glad you understand. Your Uncle George would have wanted the collection to be used for the advancement of science. He told me many times he wished to leave it to some museum or university, but he passed on before he could act upon his deepest desire, and has left me to dispose of his collection as I see fit.”

“I see. Do you have anything in mind?”

“I’m much too ignorant of all he has to make such an important decision, which is why I wanted to consult with you.” She folded her hands in her lap as if in preparation of an announcement.

“I’d be happy to advise you in any way I can.”

“Your Uncle George was very fond of you. Alas, we never had any children of our own, so you were like a son to him.” She smiled in recollection. “You’ll never know how happy it made him when you decided to pursue his hobby.”

“We spoke often of our mutual love for Egypt and its history.” Reid had many pleasant memories of his uncle.

“Of course he could never pursue it full-time, what with his work in the consulate.” She fingered the long chains around her neck. “Those were the days. So many parties, so much delicate negotiating with the government officials, the native sultans…” She sighed. “Once we returned to England, of course, his work with the Foreign Office again kept him so occupied, all he could do was put away most of his collection, in the hopes that someday he’d have the time to catalog it properly.”

Reid nodded, remembering his many conversations with Uncle George on this very subject. But then his uncle had died suddenly in his early sixties, and Reid had gone abroad, so he’d never really bothered to think about the collection again.

“I’ve come to a decision.” Reid waited, wondering what she was going to say. “I want you to take charge of organizing the collection and together we can then decide where to donate it. I was thinking of the University College.”

Reid whistled softly. Although he’d never seen the entire collection, from what he remembered, this would be a sizable donation to the college.

“Of course, because it’s such a large bequest, I want to make some stipulations.”

“That is perfectly reasonable.”

“Yes, I thought so. Firstly, I want you to have sole charge of it, and any decisions that are made by the institution have to be approved by you.”

He sat still. “I don’t know what to say.” Her announcement certainly demonstrated a great degree of trust in him—an element in short supply these days among those working with ancient ruins, where so much pilfering and secrecy went on.

She smiled. “I’d hoped you’d be pleased.”

Reid considered the enormity of the task. “I…am,” he managed, still trying to take it in. “It will take some time. I haven’t ever seen everything Uncle George amassed.”

“Oh, it will take months perhaps. He left boxes and boxes of things, all labeled, of course. I’ve had them brought down from the attic and the stables to his study and library.”

He shifted in his seat. “I don’t know how much time I would have to devote to it. I need to return to Egypt at some point.”

She pursed her lips, and he recognized the signs of her displeasure. “Couldn’t someone take over your duties there for the time being?”

“Perhaps I should have a look at the collection first. With the help of some assistants, it’s possible we could manage to catalog the items more quickly.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t bear to have the house invaded by strangers.”

“It wouldn’t be anything like that. Museum workers tend to be very quiet, and perhaps with only one assistant, I could manage, at least enough to have the collection moved.”

“No, no. I couldn’t have it. My nerves wouldn’t bear it.” She clutched her gnarled hand to her mouth and turned away.

“All right, no one need come,” he assured her, not wanting to have to deal with a swoon. He wondered if Miss Norton would be coming back soon. She seemed to have a gentle yet effective way of dealing with his aunt.

Before he could rise, his aunt spoke again. “I knew you would understand. Would you like to look at the collection now or come back tomorrow?”

She seemed fully recovered. Reid flipped open his watch. “I have time now to begin to look at things, get a feel for the scope of the work. You said everything has been brought here?”

“Yes. You can go right into your uncle’s study and the library. I’ll ring for the maid to escort you.”

Reid stood, preferring to come to no decisions until he’d seen the state of the collection. Time enough then to think what this job of cataloging would entail. Time enough to think what remaining so long in England would mean…

The moment Reid entered the study, memories of his uncle surrounded him. The scent of his brand of pipe tobacco lingered in the air. It seemed nothing had been changed from when his uncle had last sat here. The glass-enclosed bookshelves were crammed with leather-bound volumes and portfolios. The gilt-edged desk blotter still had ink stains on its green surface. Reid stepped farther into the room and examined the desk’s surface. Even his uncle’s pipe rested against the edge of an ashtray—a glazed piece of pottery from Crete.

He turned to the black-clad maid. “Thank you. I’ll just look around.”

She gave a brief curtsy. “Very well, sir. Just ring if you need anything.”

The door shut behind her and stillness descended once again. Reid remembered his hours sitting on the straight-backed chair facing the large walnut desk, his uncle in the swivel chair in front of it. Uncle George would light his pipe and take a few puffs, the chair squeaking as he leaned back with those first satisfied puffs. Then with a conspiratorial grin, he’d show Reid an item or two and tell him the astonishing tale of how he’d come to acquire it. Then he’d finger the side of his nose and say with mock severity, “And not a word to your Aunt Millie about it!”

Reid would promise with all the solemnity of a boy entrusted with a secret by so great a man as Uncle George.

His uncle’s life had seemed one adventure after the other, and Reid had longed to grow up quickly to follow in his footsteps.

Reid smiled to himself as he picked up a brass envelope opener—a medieval knife from the early Ottoman Empire—and fingered its sharp edge. He’d had a few adventures of his own since then. It would have been nice to sit here once again and swap stories with his uncle—but sadly he’d never have the chance now.

He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, remembering what he’d come for. Behind him, against one wall, were stacks of boxes. He peered at the topmost one: Egypt: Saqqâra Pyramids, September 1839. He took out his pocketknife and carefully cut the string holding the box shut.

Everything inside was tissue wrapped. Reid took out a few items—vases, a female statuette, a broken piece of blue porcelain tile. The box was crammed full.

He set the things on the desktop and entered the next room. The library was also as he remembered it, but stacked in its wide center were piles of boxes. He whistled as he looked around.

This could mean months of work. He wasn’t sure how many notes his uncle had taken, but he’d have to uncover them if he hoped to place and date the relics stored in the boxes.

He walked slowly around the room, reading labels where they were available, opening some of the boxes and looking at the samples inside. When he reached a smaller box, with the word Notes scrawled across it in black ink, he slit it open quickly. Inside he found leather-bound notebooks.

He leafed through one. His uncle’s travel journals. He deciphered the neat ink scrawl. Some pages were stained, many were yellowed with age, while others were still clean and very legible. Many had to do with his uncle’s official functions, but others detailed his archaeological endeavors. “Eureka…” he breathed, his excitement mounting.

After skimming a few pages describing a harrowing climb into a tomb, Reid closed the worn notebook. For all his adventurous side, his uncle had been a meticulous recorder. A life’s work summed up within the pages of a dozen or so notebooks. Uncle George had been a pioneer in a new branch of science. The few pages Reid had read reminded him a lot of his own work, but it also brought to the fore how primitive his uncle’s foray into this new field had been.

He let his gaze roam around the room. Regardless of the enormity of the task, it had to be done. The record of the past needed to be cataloged and analyzed. The treasures needed to be brought to the light of day and shared with scholars.

With a sigh he eased himself down on the floor and positioned himself cross-legged on the soft Persian carpet. Opening the journal to the first page, he began to read.

August 12, 1840. Toured the inner chambers of pyramid. Intensely hot. Came to chamber of sarcophagi. Massive tombs. Crawled down narrow chamber, about two hundred feet lower…Air became thicker and staler the farther we went. Hoped no noxious gases lingering there. Wouldn’t have wanted to join the mummies resting there, only to be found by a future explorer a century or so from now.

My dragoman almost left me. He didn’t like invading a tomb…Can’t be helped, I told him. Had to pretend an indifference I was far from feeling…

Reid wasn’t aware how much time had passed when the sound of a throat clearing behind him brought him back to the present.

He looked up to see Miss Norton in the doorway, holding a tray. He stood, then immediately bent to rub the top of his legs, which had become stiff. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

She smiled. “Please don’t get up. I didn’t want to disturb you, but when Lady Haversham told me you had been here since this morning, I thought you might like some refreshment about now.”

The words made him realize he was both thirsty and hungry. He walked toward her to relieve her of the tray, appreciating her thoughtfulness.

He set the tray on a desk and flipped open his watch. It was just past noon. “I didn’t realize I’d sat there so long, although my body certainly does,” he added with a grimace as he rubbed the kinks out of his neck.

She poured a cup of tea, adding a sugar cube and placing a slice of lemon on the saucer. The simple task captured his attention. Perhaps it was the slim shape of her hands, or her graceful motions, or simply the fact that she’d remembered how he took his tea. She handed him the cup.

“Thank you.”

“I brought a plate of sandwiches, in case you were hungry. Or if you’d rather, your aunt dines at one.”

“Actually, I’d prefer just the sandwiches. That way I can work for another hour or so before leaving. I need to get back to the museum to continue with the other collection. If you could make my excuses to Aunt Millicent.”

“Certainly. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

She offered him the plate of sandwiches and he took one. “Just seeing them makes me realize I’m famished.”

She smiled, and he noted again how expressive her face was. His artist mother had dragged him through every museum in whichever country they’d been living in. Now he valued the lessons. It gave him an appreciation for the human form.

Miss Norton reminded him of paintings from the Italian Renaissance, he decided, with her pale skin and tawny hair. She had a rather thin but mobile face, her caramel-brown eyes large and her mouth generous. Botticelli. Botticelli’s Birth of Venus with its mixture of sadness and kindliness in the shapely eyes.

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until she moved away from the desk and gazed at the opened boxes on the floor. “My, I never realized there were so many things in storage.”

“Nor did I.” He leaned against the desk and took a bite from a sandwich quarter.

She peered into an open box but didn’t take anything out, which also pleased him. Most people would grab anything unusual with no regard to its fragility. He had noticed the same thing at the museum. Although she’d asked a lot of questions about the mummy masks, she hadn’t touched anything.

She paused at the open journal on the floor.

“Notes?”

He nodded. “Travel journals, but they contain quite some detail on the artifacts. My uncle did some extensive exploration in the years he was in Egypt.”

Her eyes widened with interest. “When was he there?”

He calculated. “From the midthirties to the midforties.”

“We were in Palestine from 1868 to 1874.”

“I didn’t go over until 1880,” he told her. “Ten years ago.”

She nodded, her expression pensive. “I remember our boat stopping in Alexandria. It seemed such a busy place filled with so many turbaned people. I was only a young girl, so it’s a jumbled memory.”

“I spent a few years as a boy in Cairo in the…let’s see…early sixties. When I went back out this time around, I was much older, a full-grown man of thirty.” He looked down at the remains of the sandwich in his hand. “Set on leaving England and never looking back.” He looked up, embarrassed at the words that had slipped out, probably as a result of having gone back in time since he’d entered his uncle’s study.

She didn’t seem perturbed by his reply. Instead her gaze appeared to radiate empathy, as if she knew exactly how one sometimes cannot bear memories of a place.

He set down his sandwich and brushed the crumbs from his fingers. “Egypt was just the challenge I needed at the time. I sought action and adventure.”

“Did you find it?”

He squeezed the lemon into his tea. “I found my fair share.”

She took a few more steps around the boxes. “Your uncle seems to have been a man of adventure, as well.”

“Yes, his journals make for some interesting reading. I wish I had the time to delve into them more fully.” He set his cup down, frustrated once again as he thought of the task ahead of him. “My aunt wants me to catalog all these artifacts.”

She turned her attention back to him. “My goodness. Can you do it all yourself?”

“Hardly. But she insists no strangers are to come to the house.”

“I understand,” she said. “Her nerves.”

“Tell me, just how badly off is she?”

She folded her hands in front of her. “She is under regular medical care.”

“Is she—” how could he phrase it politely? “—as serious as, well, you saw her the other day?”

“It’s hard to say. I’ve been here scarcely a year.” She pressed her lips together as if debating whether to say more. “She dismissed her previous companion, I’m told,” she went on more slowly, “and the one before that.” She gave him a small smile. “So far, I seem to have suited her, but I’m new yet.”

He remembered how particular his aunt could be. It was unfair to ask Miss Norton to make any judgments about his aunt. She was only an employee, after all, her position at the mercy of Aunt Millicent’s whims. “I apologize for my questions. I realize you probably don’t think it your place to form any opinions.”

“I may form opinions, but as to voicing them…” She shrugged and turned away from him to study something in one of the boxes.

“All right, fair enough.”

She straightened. “I had better leave you to your lunch—and work.”

“Thank you for the refreshment. It was just what I needed.”

“I’m glad I could be of help.” She paused a moment. “I—I wanted to thank you for…taking care of my cab fare the other day. It was most generous of you.”

He waved away her thanks, having already forgotten about it. “It was the least I could do for keeping you so long over tea.” He had no idea how much paid companions earned, but he imagined it wasn’t much. He could hardly conceive of a life at the beck and call of another. He was used to the independence of working far away from civilization and its strictures. Occasional loneliness was the main drawback, and he’d learned to deal with that.

Miss Norton nodded, her cheeks bright pink, making her look more strikingly than ever like her famous portrait counterpart. What was such an obviously bright, not unattractive, young woman doing in such a position?

He looked away, having steeled himself over the years not to notice any woman’s charms. There’d only been one woman in his life.

“I thank you, all the same, for your thoughtfulness. It was most kind of you.”

Uncomfortable with her gratitude, Reid cleared his throat and picked up his teacup once again.

“Well, let me or any of the servants know if you need anything while you’re here.”

He frowned at the way she lumped herself with the servants. She was too intelligent and refined. Probably, as most paid companions, a gentlewoman down on her luck, reduced to the semiservant position. He remembered that she said her father was a curate. She was probably helping to support her elderly parents.

She had reached the door when he had a thought. Just before she disappeared through the doorway, he said, “You wouldn’t be interested in helping me catalog some of this stuff, would you?”

As soon as he uttered the words, he already regretted them. He usually considered things carefully before making a decision.

What did this young woman know about ancient artifacts? He didn’t need someone who would require careful supervision. It would be difficult enough sifting through his uncle’s notes, trying to match them to the heap of antiquities.

As Reid watched the surprise in her eyes turn to excitement, something tugged at him. A sense of compassion stirred within him as he thought how narrow her life within these walls must be.

She had lived in the Middle East and had some knowledge of the ancient world. More importantly, she knew how to follow instructions and how to be silent, two qualities he valued highly in any assistant.

“Do you think I could be of help?”

He nodded slowly. It just might be the perfect solution. His aunt couldn’t object to her as a stranger, and she was right here, available any time he chose to come by.

“I told Aunt Millicent I’d need help. I don’t think she realized the scope of it. Since she balked at any suggestion of an outsider, I don’t think she’d have a problem with someone in her employ lending a hand a couple of hours a few days a week.”

“I’d certainly be willing to do anything to help.” Her gaze roamed over the boxes around her. Then she drew her two eyebrows together. “I don’t know if she will allow me to assist you, however.”

“If you’d rather not, just say the word. It’s no problem.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that at all. I think it would be fascinating work. It’s just…well, perhaps you’d better broach the subject with your aunt.”

He nodded. “If you’re concerned about Aunt Millicent objecting, don’t. I’ll handle that aspect of it.” If his aunt could force him to remain in Britain for a few months, she’d have to agree to some of his conditions, as well.

“I…” She hesitated, and he wondered again if she was having second thoughts about undertaking the work. “I—what I mean is…don’t be discouraged if your aunt says no.” She pressed her fine lips together and looked down, as if hesitant to say more.

He breathed a sigh of relief that that was her only qualm. “I’ve known her since I was a boy and learned how to get my way. Being a favorite nephew does have its advantages upon occasion.”

A smile tugged at her lips, and he was heartened. She really had a most sympathetic face. There was something radiant in it when she smiled.

He rubbed his hands together, his eagerness to begin the task starting to grow. “Very well, then. I’ll let you know when you’re to start.”

Her eyes lighted up and he felt a tingle of warmth steal into his heart, as if he’d given a child something delightful on her birthday. It occurred to him there wasn’t much brightness in her life. If he could give her a little bit, then maybe his time in England would not be altogether wasted.

Chapter Four

Maddie’s gaze went from the small limestone fragment on her left to the battered notebook on the table in front of her. She compared the description:

Profile of king? Young prince? Standing on left. Sun God Ra with bird’s head on right. Offering of bull, chickens. Seated monkey. Found at KV 2.

If this artifact matched the description in Sir Haversham’s notebook, then it meant that everything in the box may have been found at the same location.

Maddie blew away the strands of hair tickling her forehead, sensing the excitement in her begin to grow. She scanned the fragments of pottery laid out on the long table before her. The last fortnight had involved painstaking work, first, unpacking a portion of the boxes and trunks and piling the remainder against one wall of the library. Then began the detective phase of deciphering the spidery handwriting in the stack of notebooks and various loose sheets of paper and matching descriptions to contents of boxes.

She glanced at Mr. Gallagher bent over a black stele covered in hieroglyphics. Her hunch that his attention to detail made for a good Egyptologist had been confirmed for her over the time they’d been working together. He had been uncompromising in his process of carefully unpacking each box and laying out the contents in a separate area, labeling what could be readily identified.

He’d given Maddie a quick training in some of the common artifacts from steles, sarcophagi fragments, plaster casts of wall reliefs covered in pictures, amulets, potsherds, faience vessels, wood carvings and basalt statue pieces. Mr. Gallagher had also given her a crash course in ancient Egypt, charting out for her the Old, Middle and New Kingdoms when the pharaohs had ruled. She’d gazed in fascination at the drawings he showed her of the massive tombs they’d built for themselves, some reaching skyward in the form of pyramids, others stone chambers underground, only recently rediscovered by the explorers and archaeologists traveling the length of the Nile River.

She realized how well he’d laid the groundwork before he’d ever set her to work to assist him with identifying the artifacts. It was only in the past few days he’d allowed Maddie to begin reading his uncle’s notes.

She hesitated to interrupt him now with her discovery. She’d learned in the last two weeks how single-minded his concentration was once he began to work. It only took one instance, when she’d read the barely disguised impatience in his eyes, to keep her from disturbing him unnecessarily.

Her times of unhindered concentration were another story as she remained at the beck and call of her employer. She turned now as a parlor maid entered the room and motioned to her.

Maddie rose and removed the white apron she’d worn when working among the artifacts. After folding it and placing it on the back of her chair, she left the room.

“Lady Haversham wants you, miss,” the maid said.

Maddie no longer bothered to ask what the trouble was about or if it couldn’t be taken care of by one of the staff of servants. Lady Haversham had made it clear when she called for Maddie, only Maddie would do, whether it was to pick up a fallen handkerchief or take Lilah out for a walk in the backyard.

“Thank you, I shall go to her at once.”

As soon as Miss Norton left the library, Reid tossed aside his pencil and straightened on the tall stool.

In the scant hours he had Miss Norton’s able assistance each day, it seemed his aunt couldn’t do without her for more than half an hour at a stretch. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, debating how to resolve the issue.

His concentration shot for the moment, he pushed back from the table and stood. Clearly, his aunt had no idea how much work was involved in what she’d set him to do. He gazed at the multitude of artifacts neatly laid out on every available surface in the large room. It wasn’t even half the stuff. His eyes lingered on the gilded bust of a young Egyptian prince—one of the prizes of the collection so far.

He still didn’t know where Uncle George had picked it up. He’d have remembered seeing it as a boy. It was most likely from the Valley of the Kings area. His uncle had spent several months in Thebes exploring the temples and tombs in and around Karnak and Luxor.

He wandered over to the space where Miss Norton had left her work. Taking up a pencil, he tapped it lightly back and forth against the tabletop between his fingers, his mind returning to his first thought. He hated the time wasted. He knew Miss Norton’s first duties were to his aunt, but he didn’t think he was being unreasonable in requiring her services in the midafternoon hours when his aunt had her accustomed nap.

The sound of the door reopening interrupted his thoughts. He turned with relief to see Miss Norton. His relief was short-lived as her first words were, “Excuse me, I need to run to the post for a moment.”

He merely nodded, realizing it would do no good to express his displeasure to her. She had no control over his aunt’s whims.

She approached the table where he stood. “I—I’m glad you’re up from your work. I didn’t want to interrupt you earlier, but I think I found something.” She pushed the notebook toward him.

He was immediately attentive, following her words as she read the journal’s entry and showed him the fragment. “And look here, the entry before this one describes a wooden crocodile figurine.” She held up a broken carving, her arm grazing his. She immediately moved away. “Well, this one was in the same box.” Her voice rose, its lilting tone conveying her enthusiasm. Reid focused his attention back to what she was saying, his arm still feeling her light touch.

“I was just going to read the next entry when I was called out.”

He took the notebook from her.

We found a cache of faience and terra-cotta cooking vessels, ornamental vases near the Theban necropolis.

Reid surveyed the articles before him, idly smoothing down his mustache with thumb and forefinger. His excitement grew the more he compared the journal entry descriptions with the objects ranged on the table. “I think a good many of these would qualify…yes,” he murmured, examining a terra-cotta pot on legs. “And it would confirm my feeling that he found these near Karnak.” He turned to her with a smile, his earlier displeasure dispelled. “Well done, Miss Norton, your first breakthrough.”

She returned the smile, her face blushing. He thought once again of Botticelli’s Venus.

Reid snapped his fingers, remembering something he had intended to do that day. Now was as good a time as any since Miss Norton would have little chance to do any more work that day. Her discovery made up for any lost time, however, and he could easily continue where she’d left off and gain a few hours’ progress.

“Before you head out, I have something for you.”

Her brows rose. “Something for me?”

He went to his portfolio and pulled out an envelope. “Your first fortnight’s wages.”

Her wide eyes grew rounder. “Wages?”

“Yes, I realize we never went over them. I thought what I usually pay a part-time assistant would be satisfactory.”

Since she didn’t reach out her hand to take the envelope, he held it out to her.

She took a step back. “Oh, Mr. Gallagher, I think you misunderstood. I never expected wages.”

He laid the envelope beside the notebook. “I think it’s you who misunderstood. I never would have requested your help in any capacity but a straightforward business transaction.”

She moistened her lips, deepening their rosy hue, and turned her face away from the table. “Of course, I understand that, but I never expected you to pay me in addition to what I’m earning from Lady Haversham. I—I feel d-dishonest collecting what amounts to two salaries at the same time.”

“No need to. They are wholly separate services you’re rendering. I made it clear to my aunt I needed an assistant and you’ve proved an able one. She agreed to share your services.” Before she could protest further, he ended the discussion. “I don’t expect to argue about this. It’s a paltry enough sum and you deserve every penny. Much of this work is tedious but it’s got to be done, and my time is limited. If you don’t accept it, I’ll have to find another who will.” He folded his arms across his chest.

Still she hesitated. Finally, she picked up the envelope and held it by the corners. “Very well. I shall only accept it on behalf of my brothers’ work in the mission field.” There was something, while not defiant, yet firm, in her quiet words.

He shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “You can do whatever you please with the funds. They’re yours.”

She bowed her head. “Thank you.” Without another word, she left the library.

After she’d gone, Reid sat at her place and continued with the notebook she’d worked on, glad that he’d hired Miss Norton. Aside from the interruptions, she was a most helpful assistant—quick to learn, interested in the subject matter, quiet and steadfast in her work habits. He couldn’t think of a better work partner. He remembered her pleasure when he’d complimented her on her discovery. Her tawny eyes had lit up, color suffusing her cheeks, and her rosy lips had widened into a generous smile.

Reid shook aside the image. He had no business noticing Miss Norton’s attributes other than those directly related to the work involved. He turned his attention back to his uncle’s notes.

Little by little he matched more objects with those described in the journal. Several times, Reid stood and went to another part of the room, thinking he’d seen an object like the one described by his uncle. Little by little, piece by piece, he began to amass a picture of an excavation site. The thought flitted again through his mind of what an able assistant Miss Norton was.

Maddie paused at the top of the stairs, her hand on the newel. After a trying afternoon of waiting on Lady Haversham, the evening was finally her own. It mattered little that it was almost nine o’clock. She was grateful for at least one hour of peace and quiet before retiring.

She gazed down the length of the grand staircase, feeling the pull of the library. She could hardly wait until tomorrow to take up the thread she’d discovered in the late Sir George’s notebook. She loved finding herself in the world of adventure Mr. Gallagher had opened up to her.

She debated a second longer. She didn’t like going into the library outside of the daylight hours, feeling like an intruder, but her curiosity was too strong. Finally, she took a step down. Just another peek at the notebook, she decided, to reread the entry she’d stopped at.

As she approached the door, she perceived a crack of light under it through the gloom of the corridor. She turned the knob slowly, but as the door opened, she breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Mr. Gallagher.

Then she frowned. Had he been here all afternoon and evening…and everyone unaware of it? She cleared her throat softly. He looked up immediately. “Oh, you’re back, Miss Norton.”

“I didn’t know you were still here. Or did you leave and return?”

Only then did he seem aware that night had fallen. He glanced at the darkened windows before rising. With a loud yawn, he took a leisurely stretch, making Maddie aware of the lean, taut length of him. She shifted her gaze to his rugged face. “No, I’ve been here all afternoon. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

She gave a surprised laugh. “It’s past nine o’clock.”

“Is it?” He didn’t seem unduly concerned. “Come, look what your discovery has led to.”

She hurried to his side. Her wonder grew as he showed her all the artifacts that he’d labeled in the time she’d left him. He’d even pinpointed the area on a map tacked up to the wall.

“I was able to locate pieces from two other cartons of artifacts.” He stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your careful observation this afternoon certainly helped me put a dent in this project.”

She warmed at the brief words of praise then sobered, remembering the generous sum of money he’d paid her that very afternoon. “I’m sorry I had to leave so abruptly. I wasn’t much help to you. My goodness, this represents hours of work.” She shook her head at the array of meticulously labeled objects ranging from broken bits of pottery to carved masks.

“Don’t worry about it.” His low voice soothed her. “I’m just grateful you noticed the connection. It took some astute observation.”

She said nothing. Suddenly she frowned. “Have you eaten? Did you ring for the maid for any refreshment?”

He shook his head, looking a bit sheepish. “To tell you the truth, I cleanly forgot all about the time of day—or night,” he added with another glance at the dark windowpanes visible through the long, parted velvet drapes. “I could use something now. With your permission, I’ll rummage through my aunt’s pantry.” A sly grin tugged at his lips. “I used to sneak down in the middle of the night as a boy. Let’s see if I can remember where everything is.”

“Come along,” she said with a laugh. “You don’t have to do any sneaking. I’m sure Lady Haversham would be upset if she knew you’d sat here so many hours without having something sent up.” As they extinguished the lamp and exited the library, she said, “What were you doing up at midnight in those days?”

“Oh, I’d get to reading some adventure story and wouldn’t be able to put it down even after I’d been told to put out my light. By the time I’d finished the book, I’d be famished.”

She smiled in understanding. “That reminds me of how I felt this afternoon when I had to leave off reading your uncle’s notebook, as if a good story had been snatched out of my hands at the most exciting spot.”

He chuckled. “I would have left it for you, but I felt the same, like I had to pursue that lead. My own trail had grown frustratingly cold and I wasn’t making any headway.”

She pushed open the kitchen door. “Well, I’m glad I gave you some kind of start today.” She turned up the gas lamps and headed toward the pantry. “What would you like? There’s some cold roast from dinner.”

“Nothing too much. If you have an apple, maybe a piece of cheese.”

“Are you sure that’s all you need?”

“Yes, I really should head back to my rooms. I need to get an early start tomorrow at the museum.”

She nodded and ducked into the pantry. A few minutes later, she set a plate of thick slices of bread and cheese and quartered apples before him.

“Thank you,” he said, from where he sat on a stool at the worktable. “This is more than adequate.”

She offered him a glass of buttermilk.

“Won’t you join me?” he asked with a gesture at the plate.

Her heart skipped a beat at the invitation. Suddenly the cavernous kitchen took on intimate proportions. “No, thank you. I’ll just have a glass of buttermilk.”

“I hope I’m not keeping you up.”

“Not at all. I had just read to your aunt and was going to head up to my own room. I couldn’t help coming down to look at the notebook again. Just to be sure I hadn’t fooled myself this afternoon.” She smiled.

“I can understand perfectly. It’s the reason I couldn’t leave this afternoon.”

“Your uncle must have been an interesting man.”

He nodded, munching on an apple slice. “He was. You must have gotten a sense of the risks he took on his travels.”

“I’m amazed at the number of times he barely escaped with his life.” Maddie rested her chin on her hand, finding the same level of companionability with Mr. Gallagher that she’d experienced in the tearoom.

They continued speaking about Egypt and the discoveries made there over the last decades. Mr. Gallagher tore off a piece of bread. “Unfortunately, there has always been a spirit of competition amongst the different national expeditions—the Brits trying to beat the French, who are trying to beat the Germans—with who can unearth the most artifacts.” He shook his head. “We’d have probably made more headway and prevented some of the needless destruction if we’d worked together.”

When he’d finished the light snack, she offered him some more, but he declined. “I really must be going. Thanks for the fare. It should hold me till morning.” He gave her another grin, and she realized for the countless time in the last fortnight how ruggedly handsome he was.

“A-are you staying far from here?” she asked, hoping the question wasn’t too personal.

“Not too far. I’m at the Travellers Club in Mayfair. It’s an easy walk.”

She wondered at his staying at a club instead of with family or in a flat of his own. As if reading the question in her mind he said, “It didn’t seem worthwhile getting my own rooms. When I come to London, it’s usually for a short stay. It’s more convenient just to put up at my club.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” She well knew how dismal a rented room could be. Did he have a place to call home in Egypt or did he live as a nomad in the desert? She wished she could ask but knew she’d never dare. He held the door open for her as they exited the kitchen together.

She escorted him to the front door where he’d left his jacket, thinking all the while that it was a pity such a man was so alone. She knew he had a sister in London in addition to his aunt, but he didn’t appear terribly close to them.

The night was fresh but not cold when they stood on the stoop.

He took a deep breath, a look of disgust clouding his chiseled features. “I don’t know how people live in this city. The air smells of sulfur and you can never see the stars.”

She glanced up at yellow-gray aureoles of the gas lamps against the dark sky. “I guess we forget what clean air and a night sky are like.”

“On the Egyptian desert you can begin to comprehend what a ‘blanket of stars’ really means. Between the cold dank winters and soot-filled air, I don’t know why anyone would want to inhabit London.”

She didn’t know what to say. That not everyone had a choice? That not everyone had the freedom he seemed to have?

He grinned. “Don’t pay any attention to me. I’ve never liked this city and feel like a mule with a bit in his teeth every time I’m forced to step back in it.”

“I—I hope for your sake then that your time here will be short.” She said the words while fighting the wish that his stay would be lengthy.

“Thanks…though it looks like I’ll be here for a while.”

“May the Lord grant you the grace then to support it.”

“I am grateful for the guidance He gave you today in making the connection in that journal.” He took a step away from her. “I’d better let you get some sleep. Thanks for the snack. Thanks even more for your help in the library.” He stood a few seconds longer, and she wondered if he was as reluctant to leave as she was to have him leave.

“Well, good night,” he said at last, taking another step away.

“Good night, Mr. Gallagher.”

With a wave, he turned and began walking briskly down the gaslit street. Maddie stood watching him until he’d disappeared into the evening mists. With a sigh she stepped back inside and closed the door behind her. Why did it seem she was enclosing herself inside a tomb like those of the pharaohs while Mr. Gallagher had fled to the only freedom available?

Had the last decade of her life been nothing but a futile servitude? She’d believed she was following the Lord’s will for her life, but seeing it now through Mr. Gallagher’s eyes awakened all the long-ago dreams of the call of the mission field in a faraway land. Had she missed her true calling?

Chapter Five

The next afternoon Maddie sat in the parlor, once again overseeing the tea service. This time not only did Mr. Gallagher sit with Lady Haversham, but also his sister and her three children.

Over the din of the two rowdy boys, Lady Haversham said to her great-niece, “Reid must get out in society a bit while he’s home. You know I can’t do as much as I’d like. I was counting on you and Theo to organize a few things.”

“Of course, Aunt Millicent. You know we’d love to.” Vera Walker adjusted the lace fichu at her neck. “What about a musical soiree here Friday a week?” She turned to her brother, her tone gaining enthusiasm. “I could invite your old school chums Harold Stricklan and Steven Everly. Did you know Steven was just made vice president of Coutts Bank? Theo just ran into—”

Before she could finish the sentence, her oldest son rushed by her and bumped into her knee, sending tea sloshing from her cup into her saucer and onto her silk dress.

“Harry! See what you’ve done to Mama’s frock! You naughty boy!”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” He didn’t stop but whipped around the settee, closely followed by his brother.

“Timmy!”

At the same time his sister, who was sitting on the floor beside the sleeping Lilah, petted the dog too briskly and Lilah sat up and began to growl.

Lady Haversham leaned forward in her chair to see what was being done to her pet. “Careful, child! Madeleine, take the children to the garden, please.”

“Yes, my lady.” She rose immediately, knowing the command had been coming. Stifling a sigh, she rounded up the children, who jumped at the chance to be free of the confines of the parlor, and herded them downstairs.

“I had to let go their nursemaid. The woman was unreliable—” were the last words Maddie heard as she closed the parlor door behind her.

Harry, the oldest boy said to his younger brother, Timmy, “I bet I can beat you at jacks.”

“No, you can’t!”

The two continued arguing.

“Hush, children, until we’re outside.” Maddie took the two youngest firmly by the hand and began walking toward the staircase.

She herself wouldn’t have minded a brief respite in the garden if it weren’t for the fact she would have no peace for the next half hour.

Once in the backyard, the boys forgot their game of jacks and started running around the bushes.

Maddie clapped her hands, trying to get their attention, knowing Lady Haversham would be upset if any flower beds were trampled. “All right, children, what would you like to play? What about graces?”

“That’s a girl’s game!” The two boys made faces, their shouts drowning out their sister’s assenting voice.

“What about hoops and sticks?”

“Blindman’s bluff!” The boys jumped up and down until Maddie complied. It was no use arguing with them, she’d learned. She procured a large silk handkerchief from her pocket. “Who’s to go first?”

“You! You! You!”

“Very well.” She tied the scarf around her eyes. Before she could prepare herself, the older boy, an oversize ten-year-old, grabbed her from behind by the elbows and twirled her around. She groped the air in front of her to keep from losing her balance.

“You can’t catch me!” Harry’s voice came from a few feet away. Immediately they all copied him. Maddie swung around as each voice neared her but she was never close enough, and she didn’t want to take the easy way out and catch Lisbeth, the youngest. She knew she was moving farther down the garden, as their voices rang out from that end.

From past experience, she knew the boys would have her at their mercy until they tired of the game and needed her attention for a new amusement. In the meantime, she needed to grit her teeth and play along, hoping not to trip along the uneven brick walk, and praying she wouldn’t damage one of Lady Haversham’s prized bushes.

Tired of the women’s chatter around him, Reid wandered to the window, teacup in hand. He’d been sorely tempted to follow his niece and nephews out but Vera had insisted on his participation at that moment in planning her soiree. As the two women worked out the details of an afternoon musicale, he took a sip of tea and peered down into the garden, wondering what his unruly nephews were up to.

He spotted Miss Norton first, barely visible under an apple tree’s bower of blossoms. Her hands were upraised and she appeared to be calling out to the children. He didn’t see any of them at first, then one by one he saw them all up in the tree. His lips twitched in a smile until he discerned that Miss Norton was trying to get them to come down and not having an easy time of it.

Remembering the unmannerly behavior of the children the short time they’d been in the parlor, he set his teacup down on the tea tray and headed toward the door.

Vera broke off in midsentence. “Where are you going, Reid? We haven’t decided on the guest list for the musicale.”

He was already halfway across the room. “You and Aunt Millicent take care of it. Just let me know the date and time, and I’ll show up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll only be a moment.”

Before Vera could ask him anything more, he shut the door behind him.

When he reached the garden, he heard the children’s shouts and laughter.

“You can’t get us unless you climb up.”

“You must get down immediately, Harry, and you, too, Timmy. Your sister might hurt herself. Where are you, Lisbeth?”

The six-year-old girl only giggled in glee.

“You know your aunt won’t like it that you’re in her apple tree. It’s her best orange pippin.”

“We won’t come down till you come up!”

“You aren’t playing by the rules. Now come down, Timmy.”

In reply, the boy shook the tree branch at her and a shower of blossoms littered the ground. “It looks like it’s snowing!”

“Oh, you mustn’t do that. Your aunt won’t have any fruit in the autumn if you knock the blossoms off now.”

Reid reached the tree and spied Lisbeth first on a lower branch. “Whoever thinks he can beat me in a race around the square gets a half crown.” He turned away from the tree, calling out over his shoulder, “Last one down’s a rotten egg.”

As he walked toward the garden gate, he heard scrambling and shouts as three small bodies shimmied down the tree.

“Lisbeth’s a rotten egg!” The boys called over their shoulders as they caught up to Reid. Lisbeth began to cry.

Miss Norton removed her blindfold and smoothed her hair before going to crouch by the weeping child.

“There, Lisbeth, why don’t you come along with me, and we’ll show those boys you can beat them in the race?”

Reid’s niece sniffed.

“Where’s your handkerchief, honey?”

Leaving the child with Miss Norton, Reid herded the boys into the mews. They ran down the alley until they reached Belgrave Square. Reid took them to the nearest tree and marked out the starting place. “You’ll run inside the square, all around and end back here.”

Harry’s chest puffed out. “That’s easy.”

“We’ll see. Now, let’s wait for your sister and then when I say ‘go,’ run with all your speed. Watch that you don’t cheat by cutting the corners or you’ll be disqualified.”

As Miss Norton crossed the street and approached them, holding his niece by the hand, he smiled. “I thought you could use some reinforcements.”

“Indeed, thank you.” She shaded her eyes and looked across the large, tree-studded square. “Are you sure it’s not too far for the children?”

“They needn’t complete the course. I’m only hoping to rid them of some of their excess energy.”

“Yes, I see.” Her eyes twinkled, and he noticed again how exactly her eye and hair color matched, a rich, caramel color like the toffees he used to enjoy as a boy.

He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the boys. “All right, on your mark.” They lined up at the spot he indicated. “Go!”

He jogged alongside them, making sure not to overtake them. Lisbeth soon trailed behind and began to cry. By the second corner of the square, he glimpsed Miss Norton, who’d once again taken the girl by the hand and walked along beside her, encouraging her. Harry ran ahead of Timmy by a good lead, but as the older brother rounded the third corner, his foot tripped on a tree root, and he went flying headlong.

Reid ran up to him, the boy’s sobs reaching across the large square. The fall hadn’t looked serious enough to merit the boy’s wails. Reid knelt by him.

His nephew clutched one knee in both hands. “I…th-think it’s br-broken…!”

The trouser leg was torn and the knee scraped. Reid probed the area around it gently, but determined that no further damage had been done. Timmy leaned over his brother, panting heavily. “Does this mean I won the race, Uncle Reid?”

This only made Harry sob the louder. “You didn’t win! That’s not fair! Tell him he didn’t win, Uncle Reid! I was ahead. You saw me!”

Reid smiled at Timmy. “I think it means there’ll be a rematch once your brother’s fully recovered. What do you think, Harry? Does that sound fair?”

He swiped a sleeve across his runny nose. “I would’ve won fair and square if that tree root hadn’t been in my way.” He glared at his younger brother. “I would’ve beat you today, just like I’ll beat you by a furlong anytime we race!”

“I wasn’t the one who fell on my face and then cried like a girl!” Timmy began hopping on one foot and then the other. “Waaa!” he bawled in imitation.

Miss Norton and Lisbeth reached them. Miss Norton knelt on Harry’s other side. “Is he badly hurt?”

“Nothing more than you see. Come on, champ, let’s see if you can stand.” He held out a hand to his nephew. “’Attaboy.”

Harry wiped his nose again. “It hurts something awful, Uncle Reid.”

“Skinned knees always hurt. The trick is not to let on to the ladies.” He winked in their direction. “Come on, let’s show the others what a brave fellow you are.” Draping an arm around the boy’s shoulders, Reid urged his nephew forward. He turned to Miss Norton. “I’ll take him to the kitchen and get him cleaned up if you take charge of the other two.”

“Of course, thank you. Come along, Timmy, Lisbeth.” She took them each by the hand and directed them back to the house.

Timmy resisted. “I don’t want to go back yet.”

She pulled him gently forward. “Your mother might be getting ready to leave.”

Lisbeth tugged on her other hand. “I want to stay outside, too.” Timmy took advantage of Miss Norton’s inattention to break away from her and dart toward the middle of the square.

“Timmy!” The single word stopped the boy in his tracks. Timmy stared round eyed at Reid’s sharp tone. “Take hold of Miss Norton’s hand if you don’t want to feel the palm of mine on your backside.”

Timmy debated for only an instant. He dragged his toes in the dusty path but he didn’t disobey. As soon as he was at Miss Norton’s side, he gave her his hand and put the thumb of the other in his mouth, staring at his uncle as if he’d suddenly sprouted horns.

As they walked toward the house, Reid said to Miss Norton, “Don’t let them forget who’s in charge.”

She gave him a quick look. But she said nothing, only pressed her lips together and looked down at the ground. “Yes, sir.”

Wondering if he’d said something wrong, he walked alongside her and the children in silence to his aunt’s house. He’d been only trying to help. Had he offended Miss Norton in some way?

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