Page 8 of An Affaire in Athens (The Grand Tours of the Aristocracy #2)

CHAPTER 7

A DISCOVERY IN A TEMPLE

M eanwhile, in the Temple of Athena Nike

Having studied all the walls of the tiny temple from the ceiling to the floor, Diana stepped back and planted her fists on her hips. “Dammit,” she muttered. Bending down, she lifted the lantern and was about to make one more pass around the interior when a shadow once again passed across the light from the entrance.

Stiffening, she quickly turned and held up the lantern between her face and the body that appeared in silhouette.

“Ack!” Randy said, his arms shielding his face from the glare of the lantern.

“You again?” she said, setting the lantern back on the floor.

“Your cousin, yes. Your brother and the Fitzsimmonses are about to enjoy a picnic in the Parthenon,” Randy said, not bothering to enter the cella.

“And you’re not?” she countered.

Randy paused, not expecting the curt response. “Did you wish to join them?”

Diana’s attention had turned to the wall opposite the one she had been studying when he had first found her, her brows furrowed in concentration. “No. I’m not exactly dressed for it,” she murmured, her head angling to one side as she continued to stare at the cella wall. “Certainly not if Miss Fitzsimmons is with them.”

Randy sensed disgust in her voice.

Or perhaps it was jealousy.

“You are not friends with her?” he guessed.

She suddenly turned her gaze on him, her eyes round with shock. “Oh, that’s not it all all,” she quickly replied. “I only met her yesterday at the Aiolos Hotel. My brother introduced us when they were seeing to acquiring accommodations.” She paused, her attention once again going to the wall. “You should join them.”

Although he had the distinct impression she wanted to be rid of him, Randy’s curiosity had him remaining in place. “I ate a rather large breakfast, so I begged off. I told your brother I would come look after you.” His attention went to the same wall she was regarding with fascination.

“I don’t need looking after ,” she whispered, as if she had said it a thousand times. Her manner softened as she regarded him, her gaze going from his head to his booted feet. “However, if you intend to stay, then I must put you to work.”

The comment had Randy deciding it was as close to an invitation as he was going to get. He stepped into the cella. “What can I do to help?”

The enthusiasm in his voice had Diana crossing her arms. She had thought the warning would have him begging off. He certainly seemed unable to take a hint. “Follow directions. Do exactly as I tell you,” she said before moving to the altar at the back of the small cella. She plucked a rolled up sheet of paper from the marble and, holding it by two corners, allowed it to unroll. “You’re going to hold this up to this wall right here,” she said, placing the blank sheet of vellum against the marble. “Hold it very still. Do not allow it to move.”

Randy furrowed his brows. “All right,” he said, stepping in to take her place as he gripped the corners between his fingers and pressed the sides of his fists against the thin paper.

“You’ll have to move your feet back a bit so I can get in between you and the vellum,” she said, returning from the altar with a black stick in one hand.

“What is that?” Randy asked, doing as he was told by straightening his arms and widening his stance. He was forced to move one foot back even farther from the marble when she stepped in front of him and faced the wall.

“Charcoal,” she responded curtly. Before he could ask anything else, she began swiping the edge of the stick over the vellum, leaving behind a dark gray swath in her path. She continued working her way across and down the sheet of vellum before she was forced to reposition herself to continue the bottom half.

“You’re doing a rubbing,” Randy said in awe, his gaze going to where thin lines remained in white while the surrounding areas were filled in with the charcoal.

“Have you done one before?” she asked, bending even more so she could work on the bottom half of the sheet. In the process, her derriere touched his thigh. “Oh, pardon me,” she said, shifting her stance slightly.

Randy did his best not to react, but his cock twitched, apparently aware of how neatly her derriere would fit if she simply bent over and supported herself against it. “It’s all right,” he said. “If you need to lean against me,” he added, well aware of how she was having to contort her body in order to work in the confined space. “And, uh, no, I haven’t done a rubbing like this before.”

If she did use his body for support, he thought he would be doing a rubbing of his own sometime later that day and not on a temple wall. The mere thought of that upside-down heart-shaped bum pressed against his manhood nearly had him groaning with effort to keep it in check.

“Oh, my goddess,” Diana whispered.

“What is it?” he asked in alarm, thinking she might have noticed his state of discomfort. At least her words had his cock settling down where it belonged.

“I think there is something here.” She glanced up at him from where she was now kneeling. “I was sure this wall was smooth, but...”

“Graffiti?” he guessed. From his perspective, he could only make out the gray from the charcoal on the vellum and the few places where white lines seemed to have been left behind.

“I think it’s Old Attic,” she replied, referring to the language of the ancient Greeks. She slipped sideways, beneath his arm, and stood off to one side. “Let’s take it out in the daylight and see what we’ve got.”

Ensuring his feet were securely under him before he made to remove the vellum from the wall, Randy followed her out of the temple. He was careful to hold the large sheet well away from his body lest he smudge the charcoal on his clothing. The bright sun had him squinting, and a sudden gust forced him to turn his body so the vellum wouldn’t become bent or wrinkled in the wind.

“There’s a flat surface here,” Diana said, hurrying to the block of marble he had stepped over earlier. She helped with spreading out the vellum as she took a seat on an adjacent column top and placed rocks over the four corners to keep the paper flat.

“It’s terribly faint,” Randy murmured, moving so he stood next to where she sat. “Can you read Old Attic?”

“Well, of course,” she replied, obviously offended he would think she couldn’t.

“I meant no offense,” he quickly responded. “My mother can read Latin, but not Greek,” he added.

Diana blinked and leaned away to regard him with surprise. “Cousin Hannah can read Latin?”

Relieved he had found a way to impress Diana, Randy nodded. “Despite looking like a fairy princess, she’s always been a bit of a bluestocking. It’s very disarming for people who have never met her before. They take one look at her and think she’s a brainless twit when in fact she’s really a rather clever woman.”

Diana aimed a grimace in his direction. “Are you saying she still appears youthful enough to be a princess?”

Randy’s gaze darted to the side. “Actually... yes. Maybe more of a fairy queen these days, but she’s always had that willowy shape and pale blonde hair?—”

“Gray, now, don’t you mean?”

He scoffed. “No. She’s not got a single gray hair. At least... she didn’t when I last saw her. About a nine months ago. Father has some, though.” He lifted a finger to indicate the side of his face. “At his temples. But otherwise...” He shrugged. “Except for your red hair?—”

“It’s not red. It’s... reddish blonde,” she said on a huff.

“—you look an awful lot like her, but I suppose that’s to be expected given how closely you are related.”

Diana blinked. “If you dare tell anyone I look like a fairy princess...” She let the sentence trail off as she turned her attention back to the lines on the rubbing, her features indicative of her concentration.

“What?” he prompted, suppressing the urge to laugh at her. “It’s not as if you can help it,” he added. “Besides, it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of. You must know there are probably a hundred young ladies in the ton who wish to look like fairy princesses.”

She gave him a quelling glance.

“Apologies. I won’t mention it again,” Randy said.

Ignoring him to study the rubbing, Diana used the end of the charcoal to trace the characters that made themselves evident in the otherwise dark gray background. The darker edge along each whiter area reinforced their shapes until a word emerged.

?κατ?μπεδον.

“Is there a letter missing?” Randy asked.

“Why do you ask?”

He pointed to where the triangular symbol indicating a delta ended and a circle began a few inches away. “Unless,” he angled his head sideways. “Oh. I see it now. Heka ,” he murmured.

She moved a finger to the next few letters. “ Tom .”

“ Pedon ,” he finished for her. He frowned. “Hekatompedon.”

Gasping, she stood and guffawed. “That’s what this area was called back then,” she said, waving to indicate the Acropolis. “There is mention of it in the old texts,” she added, when he didn’t immediately agree.

“Or it could be referring to the ancient city of that name. Somewhere near Epirus, wasn’t it?” he countered. “Up north, in Chaonia? Eastern coast?”

She shook her head. “Without any other words to provide context, though? It doesn’t make any sense.”

He nodded. “All right. But wasn’t there a temple of that name where the Parthenon is now? Or where that mosque is located?” he asked, pointing to the one remaining reminder of the Ottoman occupation of Greece and the Acropolis. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the building was demolished. With the Greeks having gained their independence and the rebuilding of Athens well underway down below, it was only a matter of time before the last vestiges of foreign occupation were removed from the landscape.

“Father plans to look for it,” she replied. “Or at least the floor of it. Back then, temples would have been made of wood, so it’s unlikely anything other than a floor remains,” she explained.

“So... do you suppose this area took its name from that temple? Hekatompedon?”

She grinned. “It’s possible, of course,” she replied.

“Do you think there are any other carvings in that wall?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been over and over it,” she said with a sigh. “Hansen and Schaubert were obviously careful when they reconstructed it. The blocks fit together as they should, and what carvings I found in the marble match up at the seams,” she explained. “The pieces for the roof were obviously missing, though,” she said, pointing up to where the thick tarp acted as a temporary roof.

“You didn’t find what you were looking for.” He didn’t make it a question.

She waved a hand over the rubbing. “This is a rather notable find,” she said. “Besides, who said I was looking for anything in particular?”

Randy dipped his head. “Your brother mentioned you were in search of someone.”

She chuckled softly. “It’s a shame Marcus doesn’t share our father’s curiosity of antiquities,” she said softly. “Ever since he returned from university, his interest in the past has waned.”

“Replaced by his interest in the present?” Randy guessed. “Politics?”

She rolled her eyes. “His interest in the female sex,” she stated, lifting her chin in the direction of the Parthenon.

Randy was glad for the harsh sunlight, sure his face suddenly reddened in embarrassment for his friend. “He said he wants to marry Miss Fitzsimmons.”

For a moment, Diana seemed stunned by the comment, but she quickly recovered. “Ah, but will she marry him ?” she asked, one brow arched. Her manner suddenly changed. “That’s was terrible of me to say,” she murmured. “Please don’t tell him.”

Randy regarded her with a furrowed brow for a moment. “You think she won’t? Consider him for marriage, I mean?”

Diana shook her head. “I can’t speak on behalf of Miss Jane. I hardly know her,” she said. “But...” She paused.

“What?”

“Yesterday, when we were at the hotel, she removed her gloves, and I noticed she wore a ring. On her left hand,” she said. “I’m quite sure it was a ruby, and the last time I was in England, I remember learning rubies were quite valuable.”

“They are,” he affirmed. “Are you saying you think she is already betrothed?”

For a moment, Diana seemed reluctant to respond. “I would assume so. But... I thought perhaps you knew.”

“Although I know her brother from school, I hadn’t met her before today,” he replied.

“Mr. Fitzsimmons didn’t say anything about her being betrothed?” she pressed.

Randy shook his head. “Not that I recall.” He furrowed his brows. “What are you thinking?”

Diana lifted a shoulder and shook her head. “She is a very beautiful girl. Perhaps she accepted an offer of marriage as means to keep unwanted suitors at bay.”

“Possibly,” he agreed.

Diana arched a reddish brow. “Given my brother’s interest in her, I believe I need to learn more about her,” she murmured. “Perhaps as early as this evening. Marcus has invited her and Mr. Fitzsimmons for dinner tonight.” She paused, her gaze directed towards the Parthenon. “If she’s not betrothed, I expect she has a number of potential suitors back in England waiting for her return.” She regarded Randy for a moment. “And she is probably in possession of a dowry of some value.”

“Possibly,” he agreed.

“If my brother intends to wed her, he’ll have to court her while she’s here on holiday and then see to gaining Lord Reardon’s permission to marry her. Which means either a trip to England or a lengthy wait for correspondence to travel back and forth,” she remarked.

“Marcus has a fortnight to win her over,” Randy stated. “She and Antonio leave for Spain after that.”

Diana heaved a sigh. “In the meantime, Marcus will be impossible to live with,” she claimed.

Amused at how she managed to mention all the impediments to her brother’s potential future with Miss Jane, Randy was curious how she might react to queries about the young lady’s brother. “And Antonio? Has the heir to the Reardon viscountcy chosen his future viscountess?” he asked, half-expecting Diana might be under consideration for the role.

She shook her head. “I have absolutely no idea. I only met him yesterday.” She waved her hands to indicate her attire. “I rather doubt I would make a very good impression on him, not that it really matters.”

“It would be a shame if he didn’t consider you.”

Diana gave a start. “Apparently my brother didn’t tell you of my plans,” she said.

“Plans?” he prompted.

“I’m going to be a spinster.”

Randy managed to hide a wince and merely nodded. “He might have mentioned it,” he murmured. Noting how she suddenly began rolling up the vellum, apparently eager to return to her search, he glanced in the direction of the Erechtheion. “I should find my brother and cousin before they get your younger brother into any trouble,” he said, straightening.

“Or the other way around,” Diana replied with a grimace. “I expect we’ll see one another about town,” she said crisply.

Reaching down to take her hand to his lips, Randy ignored her attempt to pull it away, sure he felt a frisson beneath his lips as they made contact with her bare skin. “I’ll make sure of it,” he said, deciding not to mention he, too, had been invited to dinner by her brother.

He bowed and took off in the direction of the Erechtheion, sure she watched him as he negotiated the field of rubble. He was determined not to trip—or to look back.