“Have ye been to Frankfurt in yer travels?”
“I spent two days there on the return from Istanbul.” So that was where his thoughts were.
“Aye.” He poured us both a dram of whisky from the bottle Munro had brought, the last of it after the past hours.
“Historically it is the city of Charlemagne.” Not that I expected him to know that.
“Ye donna say.”
I smiled. “Eighth century, head of the religious council that condemned Adoptionism.”
That dark gaze narrowed on me. “He was quite famous or infamous as it were and led the condemnation of Adoptionism which was the concept that Jesus had been adopted by God. The Catholic Church was very much against the idea.”
“Ye are not Catholic.”
I ignored the comment.
“The printing press was invented there by a man named Johannes Gutenberg. It completely revolutionized the printing of newspapers and books, for which I am extremely grateful.”
He took a long sip of whisky as I sat at the desk to make my notes.
“Frankfurt has long been the center of German politics,” I continued. “Over the past several years there have been conflicts between different groups, not unlike demonstrations by workers in other cities. And then there are those who feel that Frankfurt should never have been annexed by Prussia—long-standing conflict that goes back decades.”
I looked up and found him watching me.
“What are you staring at, Mister Brodie?”
“Most ladies fill their days with trips to the dressmaker, late afternoon tea taken with other ladies, and evenings at the theater,” he drily commented. “However, ye are fascinated by history, new inventions, and politics.”
“Someone we both know told me a long time ago that I had a brain and it would be a shame not to use it.”
There was that smile that often led to other things.
“Her ladyship, no doubt.”
“I did not want to disappoint her.”
“Ye are a rare one, Mikaela Forsythe.”
Rare. I would take it.
I set aside my pen and crossed the small sitting room where he sat in an overstuffed chair, legs stretched before the fire. That empty glass dangled loose in his fingers.
Rare.
I bent and kissed him.
“It is quite late, Mr. Brodie…”
Fourteen
We rose earlyin the morning with several hours before the opening of the new art exhibit at the museum.
We ate, then I returned to our room to go over the notes that I had made the day before.
I sat tapping my pen on the writing desk as Brodie returned from meeting with Munro and Alex to set the plan for attending the exhibit at the Royal Museum.
When in London, I was used to various sources of information that included both known persons, acquaintances of my great-aunt—she did have a great deal of influence—and the archives of the dailies that had proven to be a source of helpful information in the past.
