Page 44 of A Translation of Desire (The Brazen Curators #2)

R ose paced back and forth on the deck of the ship. She’d been restless since they left Tuscany. Walking away from Augustus had been foolish. It was so painfully evident that Rose was often overcome with frustration that she couldn’t tell him she was wrong right away.

At night, when she lay in bed, crazy thoughts often filled her mind.

What if he did fall for Lady Gillings? What if his feelings were not as strong as hers?

He’d made no grand confessions of love before she left.

Yet, she knew he was her match, and she was his.

She didn’t know how but sensed it in her very being.

Once they reached Syria, she would only stay long enough to explain to her father everything that had transpired—well, not everything, but at a minimum, that she loved Augustus and was returning to London so they could marry.

The man had her heart and always would. The thought of being his duchess still made her nervous—nauseous might be a better word, but she would figure it out.

They would figure it all out together. They would need to travel and be in London.

She tilted her face up to the sky, letting the sun warm her skin.

A giggle escaped her at how absurd their life would be, but still, when she imagined them together, it felt right. She loved him. It was that simple.

“It is nice to see you smile. You’ve been impatient lately.”

She glanced over her shoulder to find Thomas joining her on the deck. The ship taking them to Syria was not large, so there were very few people out and about. “I feel like I’ve made a decision, and now I’m in the wrong place.”

He stepped next to her, looking out at the Mediterranean Sea. “You will make it back to your duke.”

Thomas had become the brother she had never had as a child. She glanced at him and confessed, “What if he’s moved on?”

Her friend turned to her and smirked. “That isn’t how true love works. It burrows into you, and nothing can shake it free.”

Rose was tempted to press him about his words, but he would only shut her down. She wondered what he would do if Lisbeth showed up in Syria but said nothing about it, not wanting to cause unnecessary drama.

“So, tell me, what is your duke like? Who is the man that captured the great Rose Calvert’s heart.”

Augustus was quite simply everything to her, but she loved that he seemed to understand her. Even though her actions at times made him angry, he accepted her as she was.

“He is the perfect partner for me.”

Thomas snorted. “A duke?”

“He is so much more than a duke. He owns an import business. Father has even partnered with him on antiquities. Most would assume a duke would be pretentious, but he isn’t that way at all. He is wonderful.”

Amusement filled his eyes. “You are in love with him.”

She flushed. “I am.”

He beamed. “I’m happy for you.”

“I’m sorry that I will be leaving right away, and I’ve asked you to find the additional tablets for the epic.”

He shook his head. “I would be honored to be able to help you decipher the first discovered completed cuneiform epic, but I am worried that it may be impossible without the map the London Society of Antiquaries holds.”

Rose sighed. He was right. Thomas nudged her with his shoulder and grinned. “Still, I will try my best.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe someone kidnapped you to steal your work. Had I known what happened to you, I would have returned to London immediately. Your father will be distraught.”

Rose said, “No need to make it dramatic.”

“It is.”

She’d told him it was smugglers. Rose couldn’t imagine what he would think if he knew it was tied to some type of government espionage. Hawley had assured Augustus it was a one-time thing, so she would stay mum about those details.

“I would like to keep the retelling as simple as possible. There is no need to worry my father unnecessarily.”

Thomas nodded and pulled a flask from his coat pocket. He took a sip. “Cheers to you and your next adventure.”

She took the flask from him. “Thank you. I can’t wait.”

*

Middle of the Desert, Syria– January 1851

Augustus slid off the horse, exhausted and dirty but thrilled to finally have made it to Benjamin Calvert’s excavation camp. It had taken him three full days to reach the site with the help of two guides.

His heart pounded that he was so close to seeing Rose again. An older man emerged from a tent, studying him and the guides. One of the guides said something to the man in Arabic, pointing at Augustus.

Was this Rose’s father? He’d corresponded with him over letters but never met him in person.

Still, Augustus could see his likeness to Rose.

He made his way over to him, and the man smiled at him, confused but amused.

“Your Grace, you are the last person I expect to see in the middle of the desert.”

“I’m looking for your daughter.”

Calvert lifted a brow. “Why?”

He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable, feeling like he was making a bloody fool of himself. Still, he only had one shot at this. He took a deep breath and said, “Sir, I love your daughter. I’ve come to ask for her hand in marriage.”

The man guffawed, seemingly delighted. “You fancy my Rose?”

“More than anything else in this world,” he said, suspecting Calvert would appreciate honesty more than anything else.

“Why don’t you join me in my tent and tell me how this happened?”

Augustus followed the man into the massive space and was surprised to find a sitting area, desk, and bed.

Calvert winked at him. “Not what you expected. Have you ever been out of England?”

Augustus took a seat, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t, sir.”

“Call me Benjamin since we may become family.”

He nodded, nervous and desperately wanting this man to find him suitable as a match for his daughter.

Augustus thought about the absurdity of that statement.

Any father in England would have jumped at the chance to have their daughter marry a duke, but he suspected Benjamin wasn’t so impressed.

“Please call me Augustus or Sinclair then.”

Benjamin nodded and leaned back in his chair, contemplative. He stroked his beard quietly. Finally, he asked, “Does Rose know you love her?”

The back of Augustus’s neck heated. There was so much to their story that he couldn’t share with this man. “I think so. I made a mess of it, honestly. I wasn’t as forthcoming as I should have been.”

Rose’s father nodded, and Augustus continued, “Then Rose decided I was better off with my childhood love, whom I don’t love at all. It is complicated.”

Benjamin burst into laughter and then shook his head.

“Love always is. Rose’s mother was a lady and had just begun her debut when we met.

I still remember when we ran off together.

It seemed as if being together was impossible, but eventually, we found our way.

I wish she were here to see our daughter fall in love. ”

“So do I, sir,” Augustus said, wishing he could meet the woman who gave Rose life.

Benjamin chuckled. “My little girl is to be a duchess.”

“She is already so much more than that.”

A gleam of respect appeared in the man’s eyes as he studied Augustus. “I suspect you do, at least, understand her.”

“May I see her?”

Benjamin grinned at him. “She hasn’t arrived but should be here in three days.”

Disappointment flared in him. How had he beaten her here? The man stood and smacked him on his back. “Don’t fret. You traveled all the way here. What are a few more days?”

“True,” he mumbled, still disappointed.

Striding to a table, Benjamin poured them both brandy and handed him one. “To your impending betrothal.”

Augustus took a sip of the drink as Rose’s father stated, “I will summon a priest immediately.”

He choked on the liquor, and the man grinned at him. “Is that a problem?”

Rose’s father wasn’t even trying to conceal his pushiness—honestly, Augustus didn’t care. He smiled at his future father-in-law. “I will marry her in three days, three months, or three years; whenever she will have me. I will spend as long as I need to convince her we are meant to be.”

“Hmm…for some reason, I think she will be willing. I imagine dukes don’t usually venture out of England, across a sea, and through a desert unless they are sure about a woman’s feelings.

Augustus may have been an idiot before, but no more. He was certain. “I am.”

Calvert nodded and reached for a rolled-up paper, unfurling it on the table between them. “What do you know about the history of Syria?”

“Not much, but I’m willing to learn,” Augustus said.

A grin spread across the man’s face. “That is the perfect answer.”