Page 26 of A Translation of Desire (The Brazen Curators #2)
R ose heard Lisbeth’s voice intermingled with two other voices in the foyer. She frowned, wondering who else could be with her. Then, a girl cried, “Stop shoving.”
Intrigued, she wandered out of the drawing room and into the expansive foyer to find Lisbeth, and she assumed her two children—a girl who looked to be about eleven or twelve and a boy a few years younger.
The boy was fair-haired like Lisbeth, but Rose sucked in a breath as she studied the duchess’s daughter.
She looked nothing like her mother. No, her chestnut hair reminded her of someone else’s.
Her eyes flew to Lisbeth’s, who stared back at her nervously.
It wasn’t her business, Rose told herself, and she may be wrong—a good deal of London was filled with people all walking around with similar hair coloring.
She wouldn’t focus on it. Rose made herself smile at the children who were now studying her as she observed them and their mother.
The girl wrinkled her nose. “You have pants on. Why?”
Rose looked down. She’d forgotten that she was wearing trousers. Smiling at the young girl, she said, “They are more comfortable.”
The girl’s interest was piqued. “Really?”
“Alice and Jeremy, this is Miss Rose Calvert.”
Rose walked to them. “You may call me Rose.”
Both of the children looked back at their mother, and Lisbeth nodded. “You may. She is an old family friend.”
Alice smiled at Rose and then turned back to her mother. “May I wear trousers?”
Lisbeth shot Rose a glare, but she just shrugged at the duchess. Lisbeth smiled at Alice and Jeremy. “Perhaps, but why don’t you both go see how your bedchambers fared while you were away? I suspect someone on the staff left you treats as they always do.”
Both children darted out of the foyer without any further discussion. Silence hung between Rose and Lisbeth. Finally, hating the awkwardness, Rose said, “They seem delightful.”
Lisbeth snorted. “They are both very naughty. Still, since the break-in, I’ve wanted them close by.”
Rose nodded. The awkwardness of so much left unsaid bounced between them. Making it only worse, Rose said, “They look so different from one another.”
Why the hell did she say that? Lisbeth flushed. “Yes, Jeremy takes after me, and Alice takes after her father.”
Rose’s thoughts went immediately in a direction that wasn’t her business.
“The duke,” Lisbeth added.
Yes, that made sense. Lisbeth’s husband could very well have a similar hair color. Why did Rose want to seek him out in a portrait? Her eyes darted to one on the wall, but he already had grey hair.
Awkwardness still hung between them. Lisbeth changed the subject. “Did I miss anything?”
She hadn’t told the club yet about everything she and Augustus had learned. “We met with Mr. Abbas.”
Excitement flared in Lisbeth’s eyes. “Did he have the tablets or know where they were located?”
Rose shook her head. “Unfortunately, he had relics with cuneiform text stolen from him as well. We did learn more about his work. He represents groups who are trying to have their artifacts returned to them. The tablets I’m translating are of great importance to a village in Syria.”
“Will you return them?” Lisbeth asked, frowning with concern.
“I think we can make a deal where they allow the Historical Society for Female Curators to display them, and then at a later date, they will be returned.”
A sigh escaped the duchess. “We will have to find the other two tablets first.”
“He insinuated that a collector may have hired thieves to steal them.”
“That is what I was wondering,” Lisbeth stated.
“I requested that Mr. Abbas meet with the club. I think a partnership can be formed there, especially if the club is open to displaying artifacts on loan rather than purchasing them.”
Lisbeth smiled. “We would be open to the idea.”
“Splendid.”
The duchess looked tired. She was always taking care of others. Rose wondered who took care of her. Lisbeth smiled at her. “Stop staring at me like that. I’m just exhausted from the long trip.”
“Then I insist you go rest.”
Lisbeth lifted a brow. “Are you ordering me about in my own home?”
Rose grinned. “Yes, because no one else will do it.”
Lisbeth laughed and headed towards the grand staircase that led up to the hallway with all the bedchambers, including hers. “I was planning to rest anyway.”
“Good. I will be in the drawing room if you need anything.”
After Lisbeth left the room, Rose returned to the drawing room.
Her eyes studied the portraits on the walls, and relief filled her when they landed on a painting of Lisbeth’s husband at a much younger age.
He did have reddish-brown hair. She shook her head, embarrassed that, for a moment, she’d suspected Alice was Thomas’s child.
Lisbeth hadn’t been lying to her. Guilt coursed through her that she would ever think the duchess would do such a thing.
Sighing, she plopped down on the sofa. Everything that had taken place made Rose feel like intrigue was around every corner, but that likely wasn’t the case.
Usually, the simplest answer or reason turned out to be the right one.
She was happy that they had finally arranged a time to meet with Hawley.
Earlier in the day, she’d received a missive from Augustus with a date and time.
The meeting didn’t seem as pressing now that they suspected the theft was likely caused by a relic collector, but it allowed Rose to ask about the map.
The thrill of deciphering a full epic filled her. Yes, she wanted that. Still, they needed to find the stolen tablets first. She hummed, excited about the meeting and about spending more time with Augustus. She missed being near him.
*
Augustus followed Rose as they were escorted to Lord Hawley’s office in the London Society of Antiquaries building.
His space was located underground, and they’d walked through multiple locked doors.
Similar to the first time Augustus had visited Hawley at his office, he wondered why a man who studied antiquities needed so much security.
A weariness filled him. And he wasn’t alone in his thoughts.
Rose glanced back at him, frowning. She sensed it too. Something was off.
The man unlocked one last door, and they entered the spacious waiting area filled with ancient artifacts. Five closed doors surrounded the room. Their escort knocked on one and entered. Lord Hawley murmured something from inside, and the man turned to them. “He is ready to see you.”
“Thank you,” said Augustus. Rose nodded.
They stepped through the door as Hawley rose. He smiled at both of them, but his gaze darted to Augustus as if hoping to glean something from his face. He hadn’t shared any specifics in his initial message to Hawley beyond the fact that he and Rose wanted a meeting.
Hawley moved to the sitting area and said, “Please sit.”
Augustus and Rose joined him. Rose seemed in awe of the antiquities surrounding them, which wasn’t surprising; Augustus had felt the same during his first visit.
Once everyone was settled, Hawley asked, “How may I help you?”
“Recently, we met with Mr. Abbas, the solicitor I previously mentioned. He believes that the theft is the work of thieves being paid by a collector. I have informed Rose about your connection to the British Secret Service.”
The scholar’s lips pressed together in annoyance. Rose added, “You are lucky I haven’t informed your wife’s club.”
“The details I shared with Sinclair are not to be gossiped about or shared with all of London. I’m glad you haven’t mentioned them to my wife’s club, as you just confirmed that the theft is unrelated to what the British Secret Service is working on.”
“We aren’t so sure,” Augustus said. “Someone also tried to steal Rose’s work—struck a guard at Seely House and chased after her.
Hawley blinked rapidly, stunned by his words. “When did this happen?”
“Over a week ago,” Rose answered.
The scholar scowled at Augustus. “Why didn’t you send word?”
Annoyance flared in him. “I tried. You were out of the city.”
Hawley nodded but didn’t explain further. He scribbled something on a piece of paper. “I will look into it. As recently as this morning, my contacts informed me that they didn’t believe the theft was connected to their work.”
Augustus was beginning to believe his associates weren’t very good at their job. “Did they know about the attack?”
“I said I would look into it.”
Rose frowned at Hawley. “And how are you connected to the British Secret Service? Are you involved in espionage yourself?”
A snort escaped Hawley. “Why would you ever think that?”
“The study of antiquities is a good cover. I have met men and women I suspected were not who they claimed to be while abroad.”
Augustus looked at Rose, surprised by her words. Hawley asked, “Why did you think they were not what they seemed?”
“They only held a superficial knowledge of antiquities.”
Hawley sat quietly, considering her words. It had never occurred to Augustus that this man might be more closely involved with the British Secret Service than he initially thought. Eventually, Hawley said, “While that may be the case, my passion for artifacts is very real.”
“Still, you can understand why I find it curious that a man who toils in antiquities is meeting with an organization known for espionage.”
Augustus and Rose watched Hawley as he stood and poured three glasses of brandy. He handed one to Rose with a smile. “I’m being presumptuous here, but I assume you drink brandy.”
She grinned at him. “I do.”
A flare of jealousy sparked in Augustus, but he kept it tamped down. The man was offering her a bloody drink. What was his problem? Hawley handed one to him before settling back into his seat again.