“Hush, love. It’s all right.” He kissed her lightly on the brow. “We’ll sort it all out. My guards will bring him into my office and we’ll question him.”
All eyes were on them as Ambrose carried her up the main stairs to his private office.
She expected him to be livid, but he said nothing as he set her down in the large chair behind his massive desk and showed nothing but exquisite concern for her. “You are going to have to stop tackling people in my museum,” he said with aching tenderness. “First me and now this stranger. I cannot imagine what The Tattler will report if they ever catch wind of this.”
She closed her eyes a moment and groaned. “I know. I am so very sorry. Are you angry? I would not blame you if you never wished to speak to me again.”
“No, Adela. He may not have been Runyon, but something shady was going on. I just hope you did not meddle in something far more dangerous than retrieving my book.”
“Will you let me stay while you question him?”
“Yes, but only because you saw what he was doing and can point out if he is lying to me. However, I will have you leave if I do not like the way he is looking at you.”
“All right. Thank you, Ambrose.” She clamped her mouth shut and said no more, completely stunned he was not shouting at her, calling her reckless and foolish, or threatening to end their betrothal.
In truth, he was being quite wonderful to her.
He shook his head and sighed. “Is life with you always going to be this–”
“Exciting?”
His gorgeous silver eyes lit up with mirth. “I was going to saydisruptive. You must admit, for a quiet bluestocking, you have quite the knack for stirring up trouble.”
He remained by her side as his brothers, Marigold, and Adela’s friends hurried in. Syd had the package in hand. “Shall I open it?”
“No,” Ambrose said, frowning at them all. “Who is attending to Dr. Nordberg? Did you leave him on stage to flounder on his own?”
Octavian frowned back at his brother. “We have better sense than that. Your head curator, Mr. Smythe-Owens, is handling matters. He’ll do a far better job than either of us since he actually gives a fig about what those skulls and ancient relics signify.”
“And you don’t?” Sydney asked, inhaling a breath in outrage. “How can you not find them fascinating? The knowledge of the ancients is more precious than any Crown jewels.”
Octavian glanced helplessly at Ambrose.
Ambrose shook his head and groaned. “All right, that will take care of Nordberg. My guards are about to bring the man in here. I’ll ask him about this package before we tear it open.”
“But it could be the book,” Adela blurted.
Syd shook her head. “It does not feel like one.”
“Oh.” There went all of Adela’s theories. Perhaps Ambrose was right and she was becoming so obsessed with retrieving his stolen book that she ignored all other dangers.
“Who are you?” Ambrose asked once the man was brought in and put into a chair in front of Ambrose’s desk.
The man cast him a defiant glare.
Ambrose appeared not at all affected, but he had to be quietly seething in frustration. “Octavian, search his pockets.”
It was a good thing Ambrose had ordered him searched because the man carried weapons. Two knives and a pistol.
Julius stepped forward to assist. “I’ll check his hat and cloak.”
Another pistol was found in the folds of his cloak.
Unfortunately, the man carried no identification and refused to give Ambrose his name when asked.
Ambrose tried again. “Who are you and what were you doing at the lecture?”
The man was obviously not talking.
