The Virgin’s Secret Page 11

  “I thought we had established that I find your observation somewhat unsettling,” he said without looking up.

  She bit back a smile. “Then I suggest you read quickly.”

  “Hmph.”

  She probably shouldn’t stand here and watch him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The man was an enigma and not at all as she had expected. She hadn’t expected his nature. He was nice and funny and wicked all at the same time. Beyond that, he did seem, well, honest. A man who possibly could be trusted.

  She’d never trusted more than a handful of people in her life. And hadn’t Enrico told her over and over that men who coveted ancient treasures were, on the whole, an unscrupulous lot and not—no, never—to be trusted? Still, there was something about Nathanial Harrington that made her want to trust him. Want to believe that he would never betray her.

  What had this man done to her? She’d always considered herself a completely honest person. But from very nearly the first moment they met, Nathanial had her saying things and doing things she never would have considered doing. As when he caught her in the library and she’d come up with that ridiculous story about his once having kissed her. Which resulted in his insisting she owed him a kiss, preferably in the moonlight, although that no longer seemed a consideration. She ignored the voice in the back of her head that pointed out her actions before then had not been especially legitimate.

  And now, God help her, she wanted him to kiss her. Wanted to feel the warmth of his arms around her, the pressing of his body against hers. Wanted the heat of his desire to burn into her very soul. Wanted the—

  “Interesting,” he said under his breath.

  Gabriella blinked in surprise. “Well, yes, that’s not quite what I would…” She uttered an odd, uncomfortable sort of laugh, heat rushing up her face. Again. “I’m not sure interesting, while somewhat accurate, in that, yes it is indeed interesting if completely unexpected and not at all distasteful, but rather…quite…”

  He grinned.

  She stared, then winced. “You’re talking about the letters, aren’t you?”

  “I am indeed.” His grin widened as if he knew the answer before he asked the question. “What are you talking about?”

  “The letters, of course.” She adopted a brisk tone and moved to the chair positioned in front of the desk, a safe distance from him. He certainly couldn’t reach across the desk and pull her unresistingly into his arms. Not that she would be the least bit unresisting. Dear Lord, she groaned to herself, what had he done to her? She drew a calming breath. “Well?”

  He picked up a pencil and scribbled on a piece of paper. “As you have said, your brother considered only four possible suspects. These were all men to whom he had shown the clay impression made from the missing seal. The list includes an American, Alistair McGowan, and one Javier Gutierrez, a Spaniard.” He shuffled through the letters. “Although, he regards Gutierrez only as an agent for Viscount Rathbourne.”

  She nodded. “Lord Rathbourne is a member of the Antiquities Society and a well-known collector. I have heard of him and I have seen him on occasion, although I have never met him myself.”

  “His reputation is such that I don’t doubt he would sanction whatever means possible to get what he wanted. If Gutierrez took the seal, he has no doubt turned it over to Lord Rathbourne by now. The last two names, of course, are mine and my brother’s.” He glanced at her. “Have we been taken off the list?”

  She hesitated.

  His eyes narrowed. “You still suspect me?”

  She met his gaze. “Yes.”

  “I see.” He paused. “I thought we agreed to trust one another?”

  “I don’t remember agreeing to that at all. I recall you saying we should begin to develop trust between us, which was in reference to my brother’s letters.” She shrugged. “Trust, Nathanial, has to be earned.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Indeed it does. On both sides. My name remains, then, and I assume my brother’s as well?”

  She nodded. “I have not eliminated him, no.”

  “I daresay I cannot blame you, given Quentin’s reputation. However, I am confident he has had nothing to do with this.”

  She chose her words with care. “And would you know if he had?”

  “Perhaps not. But I do know that I will do all that is necessary to recover the seal, regardless of who has it.” His voice was hard and she had no doubt he was as good as his word. “Very well, then.” He again wrote on the paper, and she could see now it was a list of the men her brother had suspected and included the names of Nathanial and Quinton Harrington. Her stomach twisted.

  “You don’t need to add your name,” she said without thinking.

  “Why?”

  “If we are to work together, trust is indeed essential. I should give you the benefit of the doubt. Besides, thus far, aside from my brother’s suspicions, you have less reason to trust me than I do to trust you.” She drew a deep breath. “When it comes to the theft of the seal, I am willing to attempt precisely that.”

  “Why?” he said again.

  “I have no choice, do I?”

  “I should think—”

  “I can either trust that you are being forthright and honest, that you are truly trying to help me, or I can be suspicious of your every word.” She shook her head. “I am by nature suspicious, and no more so than this past year, but I am also practical. If I spend all of my time doubting, we will not accomplish anything. Therefore, in this endeavor, you have my trust, Nathanial Harrington, for good or ill.”

  “For good or ill.” He shook his head. “Not a ringing endorsement.”

  “Now and again one must take a leap of faith.” She met his gaze. “I’m not sure I ever have before.”

  “Then it is doubly appreciated.” He smiled, then with a flourish crossed his name off the list. “Now, only three names remain, and as I am confident one is innocent, I suggest we concentrate on the other two.”

  She nodded. “First, the American.” She glanced at him. “Do you know him?”

  Nathanial shrugged. “Not well but I have made his acquaintance. He seems a decent enough sort.”

  “But is he the type of man to steal another man’s find?”

  “It’s hard to say. A find like this would tempt even the most honest of men. If McGowan has it…” He thought for a moment. “It might well have come into his hands indirectly. He doesn’t strike me as a thief.”

  Gabriella got to her feet and paced the room. “He hasn’t arrived in London yet but is expected to arrive any day now.”

  Nathanial’s brows drew together. “Why would McGowan be in London?”

  “For the same reason you’re in London at this time of year.”

  “His sister is coming out?”

  She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “I tend to forget that your family’s wealth means you don’t have the same concerns as others in your field.”

  He stared in confusion, then smacked his palm against his forehead. “Of course. The Verification Committee begins its meeting this week. Anyone with any significant finds or proposals for funding will be in London to present their case.” He stared at her. “It was a year ago that your brother—”

  “Yes,” she said simply, and continued, “As McGowan is not yet in London, I propose we start with Lord Rathbourne. I would imagine you know him?”

  “To say I know Lord Rathbourne would be an overstatement.” Nathanial chose his words with care. “I am aware of his status as a collector. Not merely of artifacts, but of art and other valuables. Beyond that…”

  “Yes?”

  “He married the woman my brother loved.”

  Gabriella widened her eyes. “The earl?”

  He nodded.

  “I thought he was a widower?”

  “He is, but…” Nathanial drummed his fingers on the desk as if deciding how much to tell her. “It’s public knowledge for the most part, I suppose, and it’s all firmly in the past. It�
�s been, oh, ten years now. Sterling loved Olivia—Lady Rathbourne. It was assumed, at least in this family, that they would marry. Then one day they were no longer seeing one another, the next day she had married Lord Rathbourne, and a few days after that Sterling was engaged to Alice. Which pleased both her family and ours.”

  “But she died within a year of their marriage.”

  “Yes.” He cast her a suspicious frown. “How did you know that?”

  “I probably heard it at the Antiquities Society.” She shrugged. “As you said, it is common knowledge.”

  “I don’t think Sterling ever got over it.”

  She nodded. “His wife’s death.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said quickly. “That’s what I meant.”

  Gabriella thought for a minute. “Then you know Lady Rathbourne?”

  “I suppose I do, although I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time, then, to pay a call on her and resume your acquaintance?”

  “And what do you propose I say?” He stared at her. “‘Good afternoon, Lady Rathbourne. I trust you’re well today. Oh, did you know you broke my brother’s heart, he’s never quite recovered, and by the way, we are curious as to whether or not your husband—the man you left my brother for—is a thief.’”

  “Now you’re being absurd, Nathanial,” she scoffed. “We wouldn’t want to put it quite like that.”

  “Oh.” He raised a brow. “How then would you put it?

  “I think we should pay a call on Lady Rathbourne and ask her if her husband’s collections include a recently acquired ancient Akkadian cylinder seal.” She smiled.

  “Are you insane?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said coolly. “You think this is insane?”

  “Under what pretext would we say we were calling?” He clenched his teeth. “Aside from the absurd idea of resuming our acquaintance.”

  “I don’t know.” She resumed pacing and tried to think. “Surely between the two of us we can come up with something plausible. We are fairly intelligent, after all.”

  “You don’t have a plan, do you?” He rose to his feet, his brow furrowed. “You have no idea how to go about locating this seal at all, do you?”

  She winced to herself. “Well, I suppose one might say, if one was particularly concerned with minor details…”

  “One might say what?”

  “One might say,” she said slowly, “the answer to that is…”

  “Yes?”

  “No.”

  “No!” He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears. “No?”

  “I believe I said that,” she said under her breath.

  “Say it again!” he snapped.

  “No, I don’t have a plan. There, now are you happy?”

  “Ecstatic!” He drew a deep breath. “So you are saying that you have no plan, no idea where to start, nothing beyond a list of possible suspects?”

  “I did once have a plan,” she muttered.

  “Oh?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Was that the one that involved breaking into my house and searching my brother’s library?”

  Along with an ill-fated jaunt to Egypt. She shrugged. “Apparently I’m not very good at plans.”

  “You’ve just now realized that?”

  “One doesn’t learn such things about oneself until one attempts them.”

  “Perhaps we should simply break into Lord Rathbourne’s house and see for ourselves if the seal is there. After all, you have experience in such things now.”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm, Nathanial.” She paused. “Still, I suppose—”

  “Absolutely not!” He circled the desk. “I forbid it!”

  “You what?”

  “I forbid it.” He stepped toward her. “I will not allow you to pull the kind of stunt you pulled here ever again. You could be in jail by now, or worse, shot. People do tend to shoot people they find breaking into their houses in the middle of the night, you know.”

  He was right, she hadn’t thought of that. Regardless, she straightened her shoulders. “I wouldn’t have been caught if people were in their beds in the middle of the night instead of finally returning home at a most indecent hour!”

  “If you were half as clever as you think you are, you would have been well aware that a majority of the members of this household were still out for the evening!” He stepped to within inches of her and glared.

  “Well, then.” She planted her hands on her hips. “If we can’t break into his house and we can’t call on his wife, how do you propose we find out if Rathbourne has the seal? Do you have a plan?”

  “I didn’t say we couldn’t call on Lady Rathbourne. I asked what reason we would have for such a…” He paused.

  She studied him. “You have an idea, don’t you?”

  He nodded slowly. “Perhaps.”

  “Possibly a plan?”

  “Possibly.”

  She grinned. “I knew you would come up with something.”

  His brow rose. “Did you?”

  “Well, not until a moment ago.”

  A reluctant smile curved the corners of his mouth. “And how did you know that?”

  “Faith, Nathanial.” Her grin widened. “I leapt.”

  Nine

  I must say, this is all very interesting.” Merrill Beckworth narrowed his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses and considered them curiously.

  Nate slanted a quick glance at Gabriella, seated in the chair beside him. She wore her own clothes today, a dress not quite shabby but certainly well worn, a sensible hat, serviceable gloves, and appeared as poised, serene, and collected as if she sat in the office of the director of the Antiquities Society every day. And why shouldn’t she be calm? For her, sitting in front of the massive desk in a room filled with dark woodwork and shadows, surrounded by shelves crammed with books, the odd artifact here and there and the occasional travel souvenir, was not the least bit reminiscent of sitting in front of one’s father’s desk, waiting for one’s duly deserved punishment to be meted out. Nate resisted the urge to squirm in his chair.

  “More tea, Miss Montini?” Mrs. Beckworth asked.

  “Yes, please.” Gabriella held out her cup and the director’s wife efficiently refilled it. Still, some of Gabriella’s composure might well be attributed to keeping a tight rein on her annoyance with him. She hadn’t been at all pleased to discover their destination when they had arrived. He’d hurried her out of the house this morning without telling her, arranging for a maid to accompany them for propriety’s sake, but without telling her where they were going. It had taken him nearly two full days simply to arrange the meeting, and he was not about to let any reservations she might have interfere. It wasn’t a great idea, but it was better than nothing.

  In spite of Gabriella’s impatience, the past two days hadn’t been a complete waste. She had found any number of things among the library bookshelves of interest to her. She seemed somewhat fond of memoirs. And he had found any number of reasons to stay in the library by her side. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman like her. She was lovely, of course, as well as brilliant, not to mention stubborn and headstrong and annoyingly independent. But prying anything of a personal nature out of her was bloody well impossible. He’d never known a female to be so reticent about her life. It was as intriguing as it was frustrating. As was her resistance to all his attempts to kiss her again. Which only made him want her more.

  “Mr. Harrington?” Mrs. Beckworth offered the pot.

  Nate shook his head. “Thank you but no.”

  Mrs. Beckworth smiled, refilled her own cup, then settled in a chair a bit behind and off to one side of the director. She was a good twenty years younger than her husband, somewhere in her mid-to late thirties probably. In spite of the severity of her tightly pinned hair and the simplicity of her nondescript gown, Nate suspected that she was the kind of woman who had once been considered a beauty, and even now was still quite love
ly. Although there was no accounting for attraction, he couldn’t help but wonder what had drawn her to the older, somewhat portly scholar.

  “Gabriella, why didn’t you come to me before now?” Merrill Beckworth pinned her with a firm look. “Indeed, it seems to me we have seen little of you this past year.”

  “My studies have kept me busy, sir.” She paused then met his gaze directly. “And, frankly, given the nature of my brother’s last appearance here…”

  “My dear girl.” Mrs. Beckworth leaned forward in her chair. “No one would ever think ill of you for your brother’s behavior.”

  “My absence is not due to the society’s opinion of me under these circumstances,” Gabriella said firmly, setting her teacup on the table between them and folding her hands in her lap. “But rather my opinion of the society.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Beckworth’s eyes widened and she sat back in her chair.

  Nate winced.

  The director chuckled. He directed his words to Nate but his gaze remained on Gabriella. “Were you aware of Miss Montini’s outspoken nature?”

  “I have noticed it, sir,” Nate said wryly.

  Gabriella smiled in a polite manner. “I prefer the term ‘forthright’ to ‘outspoken,’ sir.”

  “I have known Miss Montini for some years now. Since she began her studies at Queen’s College, I believe.” The director cast her an affectionate smile. “Despite her gender, she has one of the finest scholarly minds I have ever run across. She’s quite remarkable. Did you know, Harrington, this young woman remembers everything she has ever read?”

  Nate glanced at Gabriella. In spite of the ambiguous nature of the compliment, and the blush that colored her cheeks, she remained completely composed. “No sir, but it does not surprise me.”

  “Then you are more intelligent than you look,” Beckworth said in a dismissive manner, and turned his attention back to Gabriella. “I have long thought the manner in which your brother and the society parted company last year was a great shame.”

  “Such a pity,” Mrs. Beckworth said under her breath.

  “Indeed, if he had not been quite so…irrational—”

  Gabriella didn’t so much as flinch at the word. There was a great deal about her Nate didn’t know, but Beckworth was right, she was remarkable.