Desires of a Perfect Lady Read online

  Cadwallender paused as if debating the wisdom of handing over the information, then passed a paper to Sterling. “Sir.”

  Olivia smiled to herself. Yes, the boy definitely had promise. Sterling twirled the combination, then nodded at his brother.

  Nathanial grinned at Olivia. “Watch this.”

  He flipped the lever, and a wall of shelves slid to the side, revealing a large opening and utter darkness beyond. Nathanial stepped into the black. Olivia shivered.

  Gabriella cast her a reassuring smile. “There are gas sconces on either side of the door.”

  A moment later light flared, illuminating the windowless room. Gabriella followed her fiancé; Sterling and Cadwallender waited for Olivia. She couldn’t quite seem to take that first step. As if, in stepping over the threshold, she would, in truth, become what she’d been for the last decade. Yet another possession to hide away from prying eyes, from the world. From life.

  “Olivia?” Sterling nodded at the room. “After you.”

  “Yes of course.” She drew a deep breath and moved into the treasure room, Sterling and Cadwallender a step behind.

  It was larger than it had at first appeared. Opposite the door, the wall consisted of narrow, footwide panels stretching from the floor to a few inches below the ceiling. A brass knob was positioned in the same center spot on each panel.

  “I think this is what we need.” Gabriella grabbed a knob on a panel toward the left side of center and pulled. The panel slid outward into the room. It was the end piece of a long, glass display case. Rows of narrow shelves were wedged between the glass, each shelf filled to overflowing with what, even to Olivia’s untrained eye, appeared to be Egyptian antiquities.

  “Good God.” Sterling stared.

  “These are just some of the Egyptian artifacts.” Gabriella nodded. “There are also Greek, Roman, Etruscan items. These collections rival any museum and, as far as I was able to determine, represent very nearly every significant age of ancient man.” She looked at Olivia. “There is also a case filled with gems both cut and uncut.”

  “The artifacts alone are priceless but the gems . . .” Nathanial blew a low whistle. “There’s a fortune in jewels, Olivia.”

  “Excellent.” Her late husband’s fortune and property was enough to fund her needs a thousand times over. His treasures should be put to better use. “And when they are mine to do with as I please, they shall go to fund a worthy cause.” As her husband had not had a charitable bone in his body, he would have hated the idea.

  Nathanial grinned, Gabriella smiled, Sterling nodded approvingly, and even Cadwallender looked impressed.

  “First, however”—Olivia’s gaze skimmed over the items created by long-dead hands—“I suppose we need to determine which of the collections we are to complete.”

  Sterling shrugged. “I don’t see why.” He glanced at the solicitor. “Mr. Cadwallender, is there anything in the will or the accompanying documents that specifies which collection we are to complete?”

  Cadwallender shook his head. “No, my lord.”

  “It’s purposely vague. No doubt to make it more difficult.” She should have known her late husband would make even determining exactly what collections were involved next to impossible. “I am to complete the collection but we don’t know if we are to complete a collection of twenty canopic jars bearing the head of whatever his name was—”

  “Imsety,” Nathanial said helpfully.

  “—or a collection of the jars of that king’s wives or . . .”

  “I should think that determination could be made by Mr. Cadwallender,” Sterling said mildly.

  The young man stared at Sterling, then nodded. “Since the exact collection is not named, I would think that any collection that could be considered complete by the item in question would fulfill the terms of the will.”

  “Excellent.” Sterling nodded. “As Nathanial and Gabriella are the experts on such things, I suggest we leave them to search in here, and we determine where the jar we are to acquire is currently located.”

  “I have that information, my lord.” Cadwallender led the way back into the library. “In drawing up his will, Viscount Rathbourne provided us with copies of the letters he wrote to the current owners of the items Lady Rathbourne is to collect as well as their responses. She, of course, has copies of these as well.”

  Sterling glanced at her. If she had taken the time to go through all the papers Mr. Hollis had left for her, she would already know this. Sterling didn’t say it aloud, but his thoughts were obvious.

  Mr. Cadwallender pulled a paper from his bag and read it. “The item in question is in the possession of one Sir Lawrence Willoughby.”

  “You are a treasure, Mr. Cadwallender.” Olivia cast him her brightest smile.

  “However . . .” Mr. Cadwallender frowned at the letter. “He currently resides in Cairo.”

  Sterling’s brows drew together. “Egypt?”

  Olivia brightened. “I have always wanted to see the pyramids.” Indeed, travel to exotic places was very nearly at the top of her list. Walk in the shadow of the gods. “How exciting.”

  “How inconvenient,” Sterling muttered.

  “Your first trip to Egypt, Olivia?” Nathanial strolled into the library. “I envy you. I remember my first—”

  “Here they are,” Gabriella called from the treasure room, then joined her fiancé. She brushed back an errant strand of dark hair and grinned. “That was remarkably easy. The three other jars of Aashet were in the third cabinet I opened.”

  “Wonderful.” Olivia grinned. “Now, it’s on to Egypt.”

  Gabriella’s smile faded, and she shook her head. “I daresay the easy part is at an end. Sir Lawrence is as passionate a collector as your late husband. I have never heard of him parting with any of his artifacts.”

  Nathanial drew his brows together. “He’s something of an academic too, I believe. Studies . . .”

  “Ancient Egyptian funerary customs and mummification,” Gabriella supplied. “He occasionally comes to London for the meeting of the Antiquities Society. I met him once if I recall.” She wrinkled her nose. “A rather unpleasant sort.”

  Olivia waved off the assessment. “He could be an ogre for all I care. I am only interested in his canopic jar.”

  “Lady Rathbourne, I regret having to point this out, but according to this”—Mr. Cadwallender waved the letter—“Sir Lawrence had, on more than one occasion, refused to sell the jar to your husband.”

  “It works out beautifully then, Mr. Cadwallender, as I have no money with which to buy it.” She beamed at the young man. “Still, I am certain I can convince Sir Lawrence to turn the object over to me.”

  “I don’t see how.” Mr. Cadwallender shook his head.

  “Mr. Cadwallender,” she said firmly, “if we are to be traveling companions—”

  “Traveling companions?” Cadwallender’s eyes widened.

  Sterling’s eyes narrowed. “Traveling companions?”

  “—then you simply must have a more optimistic outlook. I have no idea how we shall obtain the jar, but obtain it we shall.” She grinned. “There isn’t a single doubt in my mind, and I would much prefer there not be a doubt in yours either.”

  Cadwallender nodded. “Yes, Lady Rathbourne.”

  “Oh, and when we are in private, do call me Olivia, and I shall call you Josiah.” She nodded toward Sterling. “You may call the earl by his given name as well.”

  Sterling smiled reluctantly, and Olivia bit back a laugh. Sterling was certainly far stuffier than he had once been.

  Cadwallender—Josiah—shook his head. “I don’t think that would be at all proper.”

  Olivia heaved a resigned sigh. “Josiah, I don’t believe you were listening after all. Propriety is no longer a concern of mine. Indeed, I intend to be as improper as I wish from this moment forward.”

  Josiah stared.

  “Now then, off with you. I’m certain you have your own affairs to settle, esp
ecially as I have no idea how long we shall be gone.” The most remarkable sense of excitement and anticipation swept through her. She’d almost forgotten such feelings were possible. “We should leave for Egypt as soon as arrangements can be made.”

  She looked at the earl. His vaguely stunned expression matched the solicitor’s.

  “Sterling’s secretary can be of assistance with that,” Nathanial said in an overly innocent manner. No doubt he too had noticed the look on his brother’s face.

  Sterling nodded. “Yes, certainly he can but—”

  “And I have matters to attend to as well. Goodness, there is a great deal to do.” She drew a deep breath. “I fully intend to leave within the next few days.”

  “As you wish.” Josiah smiled weakly, then bid them a good day and took his leave, followed almost at once by Gabriella and Nathanial.

  The moment the door closed behind them, Olivia turned to Sterling. “Think of it, Sterling, Egypt! Land of pharaohs and Cleopatra and ancient wonders. Oh, it will be glorious, simply glorious.” She had the irresistible urge to pirouette around the room. “I can scarcely wait!”

  He stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, and indeed perhaps she had. She certainly hadn’t felt like this in longer than she could remember. Her life was starting anew, and, regardless of the circumstances, this . . . well, adventure was the only word for it. This adventure was the perfect way to begin.

  “Don’t be absurd.” Sterling’s brows drew together. “I have no intention of going to Egypt.”

  Six

  Livy stared at him as though he had just grown an additional head. “What do you mean you ‘have no intention of going to Egypt’?”

  “Exactly what I said.” Sterling shook his head. “I have no intention of going to Egypt, nor have I ever had any intention of going to Egypt.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why on earth not?”

  He was not about to tell her why the mere thought of so much as stepping foot upon the sands of that exotic land struck fear into his very soul. His reasons were absurd, and he well knew it. Still, they were his reasons, they were private, and there was no need to share them with her. Or anyone else for that matter.

  “Aside from the minor fact of a war only recently concluded?” He strode across the room to a decanter of whisky, poured a healthy draft into a glass, and drained nearly half of it in one swallow.

  “The war doesn’t seemed to have deterred anyone else.”

  “Regardless, I have my reasons.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What are they?”

  “They are none of your concern, and they have nothing whatsoever to do with the matter at hand.”

  “They have everything to do with the matter at hand. I need to go to Egypt. You said you’d help me. I warned you there might be travel involved.”

  “When you said travel, I assumed perhaps Scotland or maybe France even possibly Greece.”

  “Why on earth would you think Scotland?”

  “I don’t know,” he snapped. “I just did.” He met her gaze firmly. “But I never imagined Egypt. Egypt is an uncivilized, dangerous place, and no one in his right mind would go there willingly.”

  She ignored him. “You said you had not traveled for many years, and you would look forward to it.”

  “I would look forward to it if it were Scotland or France or Greece.” He blew a long breath. “And in truth, my traveling experience is limited to a tour of the capitals of Europe with my family when I was a boy.” He had once planned a grand tour as a wedding trip when he had planned to marry Livy. But his father had fallen ill, he had married Alice, and any plans for extended trips were out of the question. He had taken over some of his father’s duties then, and when he had inherited his title and the myriad responsibilities that accompanied it, he’d had no time for visits to foreign lands. “If I recall correctly, it was a great deal of trouble, most inconvenient, and often tedious.”

  “I have to go to Egypt,” she said in a hard tone.

  “No, you don’t. I can send an emissary to negotiate with this Sir Lawrence and obtain the jar.”

  “Perhaps you weren’t listening?” She glared at him. “If Sir Lawrence would not sell the jar to my late husband for what was no doubt an extraordinary sum, what makes you think he would hand it over to you?”

  “I am the Earl of Wyldewood,” Sterling said in what sounded even to him like an overly pompous manner. “I am also on the board of the London Antiquities Society. I have resources Viscount Rathbourne did not.”

  “I doubt that.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Very well then. Don’t go to Egypt.” She crossed the room and poured her own glass. “You may render your assistance in terms of providing funding for my travel. Mr. Cadwallender—Josiah—and I will simply go without you.”

  “You’re not going anywhere with that . . . that boy.”

  She sniffed. “He’s scarcely a boy. A bit young perhaps, but that might be best. He’s not so old as to be afraid of a little inconvenience. Afraid of the unknown. Of danger perhaps and adventure.”

  Sterling sucked in a sharp breath. “I am not the least bit afraid of adventure!”

  “Hah!” She snorted in disdain. “Then tell me of your adventures, Sterling. Tell me of an adventure the Earl of Wyldewood has had.”

  “ ‘Adventure’ is rather a vague term, is it not?”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s quite specific.”

  “The Earls of Wyldewood have had all sorts of adventures.” At least previous earls had. Sterling couldn’t imagine when they had found the time. And the world was a far different place now than when his ancestors had held the title. In 1885, the opportunity for adventures for a respectable British lord struck him as extremely limited.

  “I’m not talking about any Earl of Wyldewood other than you.” She sipped her whisky. “Do tell, Sterling. Surely you have had one adventure.”

  “Most certainly.” He scoffed as if the idea that his experience with adventure was minimal was absurd. “I simply can’t think . . . at the moment . . . so many to choose from . . .”

  “Come now. One adventure, no matter how insignificant.”

  “I’m trying to recall . . .”

  “Perhaps something of an amorous nature then?”

  He raised a brow. “I would certainly not be inclined to reveal details of an amorous adventure with you.” Not that he’d had anything that could even remotely be called an adventure. Indeed, his dalliances with women through the years had been sadly very few and quite far between.

  “Perhaps because you haven’t had one?”

  He cast her the kind of knowing smile he’d seen his brother Quinton employ with women. Of course, Quinton had had any number of adventures, amorous and otherwise.

  She considered him for a moment, as if to determine whether his adoption of Quinton’s smile was genuine. Sterling wondered if she cared about any amorous adventures he might have had.

  “My apologies, Sterling, that was altogether too personal and, well, intimate I suppose. I had no right to ask you about your exploits with women. I do hope I did not offend you.”

  “Not at all, Olivia,” he said in a gracious manner that belied his relief.

  “Still . . .” She swirled the liquor in her glass and studied him thoughtfully. “Has there never been one instance when you did something completely unexpected? When you forgot for a moment that you were the stiff, stodgy, dull Earl of Wyldewood.”

  “I am neither stiff nor stodgy.” Indignation colored his words although an annoying voice in the back of his mind pointed out he might be the tiniest bit stiff, but surely he wasn’t stodgy or dull. “And no one has ever referred to me as dull.”

  “Perhaps not to your face,” she murmured.

  He ignored her. “Besides, I don’t think something like that would be considered an adventure.”

  “Admittedly, I am stretching the definition somewhat to accommodate you. The thought that you have had no ad
ventures whatsoever is most disheartening. I should think doing something out of the ordinary, a single unexpected, unplanned, unprepared act would constitute adventure of at least a mild sort. Anything that makes your blood rush through your veins and a buoyant feeling rise in your soul.” She took a thoughtful sip. “At this point, I would think you would be willing to grasp at any straw that might be considered an adventure. If only to ease my assessment of you as stiff, stodgy, and dull.”

  He clenched his jaw. “I am not stodgy.”

  “And if it’s disheartening for me, it must be most disappointing for you to realize you have reached the ripe old age of . . . How old are you now?”

  “Thirty.”

  “Ah yes, thirty. The ripe old age of thirty without a single adventure.”

  “I’ve had adventures.” He ground out the lie through clenched teeth.

  “Simply none significant enough to come to mind.” She shook her head and sighed. “It’s possible, I suppose, that your brothers got all the adventurous bones in your family.”

  “My brothers do not bear the responsibilities I do. And it’s been my experience that adventures rarely end well.”

  “Perhaps it would be best if I had Nathanial accompany me to Egypt.”

  “Nathanial is about to be married.”

  “Yes, of course, although I suspect Gabriella would be more than amenable to a trip to Egypt as well.” She thought for a moment. “Quinton then. Quinton is an adventurous sort, and I daresay he would be a stimulating traveling companion.”

  “I cannot begin to imagine what dangers might befall you with Quinton by your side.” Aside from Quinton’s penchant for the seduction of whatever woman might catch his eye, he had the most alarming tendency to find trouble wherever it might lurk. “I will not allow Quinton to accompany you.”

  “ ‘Allow’?” Her voice rose. “You don’t have the right to allow or forbid me to do anything.”

  His voice matched hers. “I am if I am funding this quest of yours.”

  “Then I shall find the funds elsewhere.”