“Watch your tongue, Nico.My wife dislikes vulgarity.”Temple nudged her in front of him.
“Truthfully, I have no opinions on curses.And I agree.If someone spoke to me from the dark, I might piss my trousers as well.Or skirts.”
The other man dropped a courtly bow.“My pleasure, Lady Knightly.I am Sir Nicholas Bowen.Nico to my friends.And I am at your service.”
Diana dropped a curtsy.“You are the first of Temple’s friends I’ve met.”
Nico winked.“I am Temple’s only friend, my lady.”
Temple wrapped an arm around Diana’s shoulder and steered her back into the main hall of the museum.“Don’t believe a word he says.”When Nico followed them out into the light, he said, “Do you have it?”
“Right here.”Nico pulled a large book from a bag thrown over his shoulder and handed it to Temple.“They’ll boil me in liquid silver if they find out I gave it to you.”
There it was again.A truth she’d not seen, never would have guessed.One Temple had hidden from her?Perhaps.But then she’d not asked him about it, either, so mired in her own miseries and fears.The scandal that had catapulted Temple into his current position had severed his ties with the Guild.
“They won’t find out.Diana will have the entire thing read before we reach Hampstead.”
Nico whistled, turning his face up to the vaulted ceiling above.“She’s too good for you, Temple.”
Was she?She’d clung to him when she needed safety, and what had she given him in return?He needed a wife to please the king, and he must please the king or… Or what?She must figure that out.
“You have a new wife?”Diana asked.
He nodded, puffing with pride.“She, also, is much too good for me.”
“I would like to meet her.”
“Not yet,” Temple said.
“We could come to your terrace.”Nico hitched the bag onto a different spot on his shoulder as the three of them stepped into the sunlight.
It seemed too much to leave behind.An entire unknown library beneath the British Museum.And she couldn’t get to it.Worse yet, her husband, who had once possessed access to it, was barred from entry.
She swallowed hard to keep the tears away.
Temple made a thoughtful little humming noise.“That might work.”
“Or,” Diana ventured, “we could all walk together.In Hyde Park.Tomorrow.”
Temple stopped abruptly, as if his feet had taken root.
“We could.”Diana kept her voice steady, kept her determination firmly fixed in place.
“Jane would like that,” Nico said.
“We cannot.”Temple grasped the hood of her mantle with both hands and pulled it lower.“Youcannot.You know that, Diana.”He faced his friend.“Thank you, and I’ll send round an invite when we’re ready to accept visitors.”
“Of course.”Nico tipped his hat at Diana.“Wonderful to meet you, Lady Knightly, and I look forward to introducing you to my Jane.”He set off down the street with a strut and a whistle.
And Temple bustled Diana into their waiting carriage.He sat next to her so naturally, the bulk and heat of his body locking into place at her side, pulling her toward him.He was, and had been, a safe harbor.What was she to him?A drop of love potion he’d never wanted?
The book he placed in her lap was heavy and warm from the heat of his body, and she could only just read the title on the spine when she picked it up.The Myth of the Forge.
“What is it about?”she asked, though it felt a silly question.
“Our secrets.”
Yes, that made sense.Myths built men.They threaded every culture with ideas and images, fears and hopes that could not be disentangled from leaders and movements, art and politics.To understand the transcendents, one must only look to tales of Arthur and Camelot, to that great wizard who first passed down the spark of magic, the talent, to the transcendent ton.She barely knew the alchemists, but once she read their lore, she would understand them better.
