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

R ose Calvert wanted to throw something at her father.

She couldn’t believe the news he’d just given her.

He studied her, and she suspected he was trying to gauge her reaction to his shocking and manipulative plan.

She stomped her foot in frustration, sending dust and sand everywhere within the tent.

This tent was situated in the middle of the desert and at least a three-day ride from the Syrian port of Latakia.

Any other woman would have seemed out of place, but Rose was completely at ease.

Her handsome father, Benjamin Calvert, coughed and waved the dust from his face. “You are creating a mess.”

She scowled, still unsure if she could speak without screaming.

Instead, she did what her father wouldn’t expect; she calmly poured herself a cup of tea and sat down in one of his chairs.

He continued to study her as if she were one of his artifacts, annoying her even more.

Finally, he turned away and served himself a cup before taking the seat across from her.

“Have you told Thomas about this idea?”

Her father shook his head. “Thomas is heading farther south, looking for a site he believes is associated with more artifacts. He will not return for weeks.”

“How could you arrange this with the Duchess of Lusby, knowing Thomas hates her?” Rose cried, trying to play on his sense of loyalty.

He snorted. “They were so young. That was so long ago, I don’t imagine it matters much anymore.”

Rose stared at her father, wondering if he was really that daft. No, she didn’t believe he was. He was simply determined to send her to England for a Season. But Rose wasn’t some young miss of eighteen and, more importantly, had no interest in being paraded around London to capture a husband.

One of the most shocking parts of his plan was that he’d somehow convinced the duchess to sponsor her. A woman they hadn’t seen since she left Thomas and fled back to England more than a decade ago. The betrayal still influenced her friend and business partner’s every move.

“You really can’t think Thomas wouldn’t care.”

Her father, rot at lying, shifted nervously. “I need you to have a Season.”

“You didn’t even ask me if I wanted one.”

“You would have refused. You promised me you would have one years ago, but you change the topic every time I bring it up,” her father snapped.

She still couldn’t believe his treachery. He’d shipped the ancient tablets they discovered to London, leaving her with no choice but to follow them. They were likely already there, being cared for by the duchess.

“So, you gave the tablets to Lisbeth, and in exchange, she will find me a gentleman to marry? I do not want a husband, and especially not some lord. You must realize how ridiculous your idea is. I’m well past the age when most ladies are considered suitable for the marriage mart. I’m also not a lady,” she said.

“Your mother was.”

Yes, her father mentioned this to her at least once a month.

Her mother, a lady, left her privileged life behind to join Rose’s father in his travels across the globe in pursuit of artifacts.

Their worlds couldn’t have been more different.

Her father was raised by a seamstress and a constable, who sacrificed to provide their son with a decent education.

They were no longer alive, passing before Rose could remember them, but her father said at first, they were appalled at his profession, at times calling him a treasure hunter, which he took great offense to.

Her mother had been lovely and well-behaved until she encountered Benjamin Calvert.

Without a second thought, she agreed to run off with Rose’s father, horrifying her parents, who expected her to marry at least an earl and certainly not a commoner whose ability to support her seemed limited due to his treasure-hunting occupation. Her mother’s parents disowned her.

Rose met them once, but she was too young to remember. Her father and mother’s success with antiquities thawed some of the anger, and they visited them in Tuscany. Unfortunately, neither her mother nor her close relatives were alive. They all died of various natural causes.

Her father stood up and paced around the tent.

He appeared nervous and flustered. The man was a legend in the antiquities field but horrible at dealing with emotions.

She knew he loved her, but their bonding, as far as she could remember, had been over ancient artifacts and text.

Rose wished he would have talked with her about his plans first. Anger boiled within her again. “What if I refuse to go?”

Her father ran his hands through his hair, frustrated that she didn’t immediately concede to his scheme. “Then you won’t be the one to finish deciphering the tablets. You won’t be the first to know what they say.”

Her eyes narrowed. “This might be the most devious thing you have ever done.”

“If you go and have your Season, you can work on analyzing the text. Those tablets are in England. If you don’t, maybe Lisbeth will find someone else to study them.”

Rose wouldn’t allow that to happen, and her father knew it. From the moment the tablets were discovered in a cave, she wanted to decipher the ancient markings on them. The inscriptions were in cuneiform, the oldest written text they had encountered on their expeditions.

Lord Hawley, a member of the London Society of Antiquaries, was the only other person in the world who had deciphered as much of the text as she had.

He’d published a paper on his analysis of the strange symbols.

He’d been able to explain how he used the ancient languages of Old Persian, Babylonian, and Elamite to design an alphabet key that made deciphering easier.

In his paper, the details were light and didn’t provide the actual key.

Rose wasn’t shocked; most scholars were territorial about their findings.

Still, she believed she had developed a key that was just as accurate using cuneiform and hieroglyphs.

She’d deciphered a few smaller pieces of cuneiform text.

The tablets would be much more complicated and, from what she reviewed so far, contained some type of story—an epic.

“I will only stay for as long as it takes me to finish my research.”

He smiled at her, delighted she was giving in. “Agree.”

“I can’t believe you have been scheming with Lisbeth.”

He sighed. “I’m glad we reconnected.”

Rose wasn’t happy, but she wanted to analyze the blasted etchings carved in the stone, which meant that she would be traveling to London for a Season.

She grimaced, thinking about having to spend time with the duchess.

They didn’t get along. “When will I be off to London to be presented like some prized horse flesh?”

He smiled, ignoring her comment. “We will leave in three days. I will join you for the first couple of days to make sure you are settled. You must listen to Lisbeth’s advice. London is different from being out here. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”

Rose rolled her eyes. It seemed silly that her father would worry about such a thing.

Their nomadic lifestyle allowed her to see more than most and taught her how to defend herself.

Still, she was delighted he wouldn’t be there the whole time.

She could likely participate less in the Season.

Then he gently grasped her chin and said, “Just one Season, Rose. I always promised your mother you would have one. I have been too caught up in our discoveries, but I want to fulfill my promise to her.”

Rose didn’t have it in her to argue with him about his commitments to her mother.

The next few months of her life would be spent attending balls, teas, and other social events typical of London ladies.

“Only until the tablets are complete, and then I’m returning to Syria.

We will have to leave word for Thomas so he doesn’t worry. ”

“I will make sure he is aware we are in London. We will need to get you some new clothing between here and England. The lords and ladies would be scandalized if they saw you right now.”

Rose giggled and glanced down at her leather boots and men’s trousers. Yes, she imagined London wasn’t quite ready for Rose Calvert, explorer and antiquarian.

*

London, England– late September 1850

Augustus, the ninth Duke of Sinclair, ran his hands through his hair as he watched his mother pace back and forth in the family library.

She’d called this meeting, insisting it was an emergency.

No emergency existed. His mother was frustrated that he’d reached the age of thirty-five without finding a bride.

He glanced at his bluestocking sister Willa, who, at twenty-seven, wasn’t married either, but she also wasn’t the duke.

Willa grinned at him. Augustus would speak with her later. She normally acted as his buffer during his mother’s rampages regarding his bachelor state. Today, the traitor hadn’t even warned him.

“Augustus, I have been a patient mother.”

He raised a brow, and she glowered at him. “I have.”

“Mother, I’m looking.”

“You are getting older every year.”

He smiled, amused. “That is how aging works.”

“I know you think all of this is silly, but you are reaching an age at which it is unacceptable to be unwed. People will begin to wonder what’s wrong with you.”

Willa snickered, and her mother’s eyes swung to her. “You are no better. None of my children are married. I will die without ever having grandchildren.”

His sister flushed. “Augustus will eventually wed.”

Long ago, Augustus promised Willa he would never force her to marry. His mother had been furious, but he had no regrets. If she found a husband at some point, he would be happy for her. If she didn’t, she would have plenty of money to live well.

He didn’t want his mother harping on Willa, so he said, “I will try my best this year.”