Page 13 of A Translation of Desire (The Brazen Curators #2)

A few nights later, Rose walked to the ducal carriage out front, not looking forward to spending time with its occupant.

During their last adventure, Sinclair had bossily told her that she must listen to him, all because she dared to step away for a moment.

She didn’t like it at all, but unfortunately, Rose needed him because as much as she could find her way through dozens of markets across the world, she knew nothing about the ones in London.

He stepped out as she approached the carriage and assisted her inside.

Of course, the man appeared as polished and handsome as the last time she saw him.

She had an absurd thought to muss his hair.

Rose smoothed out her skirts as Sinclair climbed back in.

Today, she wore a brown one, a white shirt, and a practical overcoat.

She doubted she was like any of the debutantes he was seeking. Not that she cared.

Yesterday, Rose attended a tea with Lisbeth, and Sinclair had been the main topic of conversation. So many ladies were angling to catch his interest. Rose imagined any of them would make a fitting duchess. She’d been surprised when one lady had revealed he was thirty-five. What was he looking for?

“I hope you’ve had an enjoyable few days,” Sinclair said.

She sighed. “Yes, it was fine. I spent some time validating my work on the remaining tablet. Other than that, it has been teas, walks in Hyde Park, and one ball.”

He chuckled. She frowned at him. “There are only so many times I can comment or have someone start a discussion with me about the weather.”

“Come now, there must have been something entertaining at one of the events you attended.”

Rose grinned slyly. “There was. Apparently, you are the catch of the Season.”

Sinclair pulled at his cravat and grimaced. “I’m the catch of every Season.”

She gasped. “So modest.”

He fixed a lazy, confident smile on his face. “I’m a duke.”

Why did that smile make her heart beat faster? Annoyance shot through her. “If you can pick anyone, why aren’t you married? I heard you are in your mid-thirties.”

“Are you asking about me?” He cocked a brow.

She flushed. “Of course not. Just curious, what makes a bride perfect for a duke?”

He was momentarily silent but finally said, “A woman who can manage multiple homes, host society events, and ensure our children are cared for and raised well.”

Dull. Dull. Dull. “What will you and this paragon of society do for enjoyment?”

“A dukedom comes with great responsibilities.”

She cocked her head and studied him. “Does that mean you can’t have fun? What do dukes do for enjoyment? Would you want her to enjoy antiquities as much as you?”

“Of course, we can have fun, but the priority is always the dukedom. It would be beneficial if she enjoys some of my interests, but it isn’t necessary.”

Then why wasn’t he married? “I’ve met several ladies since arriving in London that adequately meet your criteria, yet you seem to be wooing none of them.”

He sighed, tired of her questioning. The carriage stopped, and he shrugged. “A discussion for another time, perhaps?”

She laughed. A short while later, they walked through the market. This one wasn’t by the Thames but in Piccadilly, and again in the evening.

“Are most antiquities auctions held at night in London?” she asked.

“Most of the disreputable ones are.”

They turned a corner, and once again, a section was blocked off by a curtain with two burly men standing in front of it.

Unlike the auction from a few days ago, these men only nodded and stepped aside as they approached.

The area was smaller but seemed to hold more relics than the previous one. She headed towards a table.

“Rose.”

She halted, sighing. “I promise not to leave this room or go somewhere that may seem improper.”

He frowned at her. “I’m not asking this because I’m worried about propriety. I need to make sure no harm comes to you.”

Rose flushed, knowing she was being bratty. What was wrong with her? “Thank you. I will be just over there.”

“I will look on the other side.”

She made her way to several tables containing stone tablets and studied them. They all had inscriptions etched in modern Persian and hieroglyphs.

“Aren’t they lovely?” an older man asked.

Rose smiled. “Yes. Do you understand what they say?”

“Would you like me to tell you?”

She shook her head. “No. This one is a memorial to a pharaoh, and this one outlines laws for a region.”

His eyes widened. “You can translate ancient languages?”

She nodded.

“Can you read this one?” the man asked, holding a tablet with a tiny amount of cuneiform text.

It wasn’t hers, but she was still surprised to see one. “Where did you get this?”

He shrugged. “Can you read it?”

“I—”

“No, she can’t,” Sinclair cut in.

She frowned at him. Rose could with her key.

The man nodded. “This text is very difficult.”

“Where did you find it?” Sinclair asked.

Like when Rose asked before, the man shrugged. Sinclair slid him some money. “Please.”

The man took the coins and leaned in closer to them. “The goods are removed from ships on the Thames. We buy a crate, and we get what we get.”

“Has anyone asked you about these types of tablets specifically?” Rose said, pointing at the stone containing the small amount of cuneiform text.

The man frowned. “I’m not sure I can remember. The market is busy.”

The duke sighed and slid him some more money. The man grinned. “You are awfully nice, sir. One man came in a few days ago, asking if I had any more and where I got them. He didn’t look too friendly.”

Rose wondered if it was the solicitor. Sinclair handed him his card. “If you come across more tablets with similar text or have more details about the man who approached you, please send me a message. There will be a reward provided.”

The antiquities seller’s eyes widened as he spotted Sinclair’s title on his card. He bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Sinclair held his arm out, and Rose took it, but once they escaped the auction room, she asked, “Do you think it’s Mr. Abbas?”

Sinclair frowned. “I didn’t find him intimidating, so I’m unsure if it is the same person.”

“Well, you are a duke. You probably find no one threatening.”

He scowled at her, and she frowned. “Why did you tell him I couldn’t read the text?”

“We have no idea what he would do with that information.”

“I translate ancient words. What nefarious reason could he have for wanting such details?” Rose asked tartly.

They glowered at each other. Laughter interrupted their staring contest. They turned to find Sebastian Devons and another man delightfully watching their interaction.

*

Augustus scowled at Devons and Derry as the men grinned at him and Rose. They seemed to be enjoying themselves far too much.

“What are the two of you doing here?”

Devons shrugged. “We thought we would stop by the market as well.”

He raised his brow skeptically at his friend, wondering what he was up to. Derry added, “We had a business meeting in the area and remembered that you would be attending the auction here tonight. I’m guessing you didn’t find the tablets.”

“No,” Sinclair stated.

Derry eyed Rose curiously. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m the Marquess of Derry.”

She nodded. “Good evening.”

Devons asked, “Are you enjoying your adventure with Sinclair?”

She stared at them quizzically, and Augustus wanted to pummel them. Something was afoot.

“Enjoyment is not the word I would use to describe it. Unfortunately, we haven’t located the tablets at either of the auctions we’ve attended.”

Devons frowned. “I was certain they would turn up at one of these. I wonder if a private curator, after attending your talk, decided they wanted the tablets and had someone steal them.”

If that were the case, they would never find them , Sinclair thought. Something seemed amiss. Most stolen artifacts and antiquities went through the two auctions they’d attended. It was strange they hadn’t turned up.

“A seller did mention a man attended the auction a few days ago and asked about cuneiform text. I wonder if it’s the solicitor.”

“One of the reasons I hope to see you both here is that I received an update from one of my investigators. He discovered where Mr. Abbas was staying. Unfortunately, the solicitor left last week. The tavern owner said he was in a hurry,” Devons explained.

“Then he is the one who took them?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know. My men didn’t see any signs of the tablets. They are trying to locate where he went next.”

Augustus wasn’t confident it was him. “Do you think they will be able to find him?”

Devons frowned. “I’m not sure. He seems as if he is being intentionally evasive.”

Sadness flickered across Rose’s face, and Augustus hated it. He would find her tablets. They couldn’t have just disappeared. There had to be a trail. He glanced at her reassuringly. “We will find them.”

Devons and Derry regarded him with amusement, and his neck heated. He didn’t have time for his friends and whatever they were up to. While Mr. Abbas’s movements were suspicious, they still needed to explore all options. Perhaps Hawley would know of other places to visit in search of the tablets.

The scholar was likely at the Den. He would return Rose to Lisbeth’s townhouse and then head to Devons and Derry’s club. “If you will excuse us. I need to see Miss Calvert home.”

His friends nodded, and Devons said, “My investigators will keep looking.”

Rose smiled. “Thank you for all of your help.”

Augustus escorted Rose out to their awaiting carriage. Once in, she frowned at him. “I still don’t know why you didn’t want me to share with the seller that I could decipher the tablet. Perhaps he can be an ally in our search?”

He snorted. “A smuggler?”

Her eyes flashed. “Thankfully, this is our last auction. I’ve grown tired of your ducal bearing and opinions.”

Augustus scowled at her. “My requests have all been for your own good.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t want to see you harmed because some reprobate sees a beautiful woman wandering a market alone.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Beautiful? I don’t need flattery.”

Shock coursed through him. Rose truly couldn’t believe that she wasn’t stunning. His eyes swept over her thick dark hair and large brown eyes before landing on her plump lips. He leaned forward. “You must know you are lovely.”

She pressed her lips together, causing his cock to twitch. Damn it. He didn’t want to desire this woman. No good would come from it. Still unable to resist, he ran his thumb across her full lower lip. “This mouth could tempt a saint. It begs to be kissed.”

A tense silence hung between them. He should apologize, but then she asked, “Are you that saint?”

He growled and pulled her over onto his lap.

Her bottom molded against his cock as he pressed his mouth against her plump one.

This woman shouldn’t feel this amazing. He cupped the back of her head and dipped his tongue between her lips, exploring and tasting her as if this was his only chance.

And if he was thinking rationally, it probably was, but right now, he didn’t care about any of that.

She wiggled on his lap, making him groan against her mouth. Unable to resist, he continued to kiss her. His hand cupped one of her breasts, itching to release the mound from the confines of her shirt.

Suddenly, she pushed at his chest. “We must stop. The carriage is at the duchess’s townhouse.”

Rose scooted away from him, smoothing out her skirt. Augustus cleared his throat. “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m prepared to do the honorable—”

She shook her head. “Don’t do that, duke. No one needs you to be noble. You aren’t the first man I’ve kissed and won’t be the last.”

He scowled at the thought of her kissing someone else, especially when his body demanded more from her.

“We need to talk about this.”

She opened the door, not waiting for the driver. “No, we don’t. You have a plethora of perfectly coiffed ladies to choose from.”

“Rose—”

“I will not discuss this any further,” she said before darting up the steps of the duchess’s townhouse.

He shook his head as he watched Rose Calvert—the one woman who wanted nothing to do with his dukedom.