She closed the envelope back up. Sardinia would always hold a special place in her heart. Pasting, a smile on her face she handed the man in the office the two letters.
*
Latakia
Sebastian had neverbeen happier to be on land. Latakia was a port under the Turkish empire but governed by the Syrians. Easton would be in the city for the next few days. Sebastian had already made the decision not to travel on to Damascus. He was antsy to return to London and call on Diana.
But first, he would meet the Calverts and visit with his old friend Merry. In truth, while he was amused to see Merry again, his real goal was to set something up with the Calverts for the curator club. He hoped they’d be interested.
He followed Easton into a small building and spotted men, shockingly, smoking from a metal contraption. Easton grinned at him. “It is a shisha.”
“What are they doing with it?”
“They are smoking.”
Sebastian had never seen anything like it. They made their way to a back corner where a man sat smoking, and two others drank tea. The man smoking rose and guffawed. “What are you doing here?”
Sebastian studied him. It was Merry! He was transformed from the young man all those years ago whom he won the Den from in a game of cards. Now, he was almost the size of Devons, tan, scruffy, and with shoulder-length hair.
“Merry?”
The man grinned at him. “Des, Desmond, or Keaton. I don’t use that name anymore.”
He blinked at him in shock. He sat back down and indicated for Easton and Sebastian to sit. Sebastian’s mouth curved into a smile. Maybe the first real one since he left Tuscany. “You are not the same man I knew all those years ago in London.”
Keaton laughed. “No, I’m not.”
The older man in the sitting area asked, “How do you know each other?”
Keaton leaned back in his chair. “Devons here won my family estate from me in a game of cards.”
The younger man—no, not a man, Sebastian realized, but a woman muttered, “You must not have cheated back then as you do now.”
“No, he was rather rubbish whether he cheated or not,” Sebastian stated with a grin.
Keaton shrugged. “I don’t play much anymore. Only with you, Rose, when we are bored.”
She snorted. Sebastian studied her. She was tall and slender with dozens of freckles. Her hair was braided down her back. She wore a hat, but the most shocking thing was, she had on trousers. She stuck her hand out. “I’m Rose.”
Sebastian took her hand. “Sebastian Devons.”
“And this man is her father, Benjamin Calvert,” Easton added.
Sebastian shook his hand as well, but his eyes darted back to Rose. She made a face at him, and he said, “I’m sorry for staring.”
She sighed but waved off his apology. “You English are all the same. Horrified to witness a woman in pants. I bet you’ve done and seen far more scandalous things than me wearing trousers.”
A bark of laughter escaped him at her blunt response. “You are quite right.”
“What are you doing here?” Keaton asked.
Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair, unsure how to tell the complicated tale. “I’ve partnered with a group of ladies who have set up a club for female historians, curators, and scholars. The club decided to raise money by having me and one of the board members, Lady Hensley, write about a leisure cruise for two newspapers back in London.”
Keaton gaped at him. “You willingly signed up to do this?”
Rose frowned at him. “How did you end up here?”
Sebastian sighed. “I didn’t want to do the return leg of the trip, and Easton mentioned his journey here. I had hoped to catch up with Merry and perhaps create some connections between all of you and the club.”
