Lord Harston’s lips pressed together in annoyance. “You should reconsider. Also, I’m not sure a lecture for children would be beneficial. Antiquities are not something that would hold their interest.”
Thomas disliked Harston; he was a pompous ass. He wasn’t sure why Martin tolerated him as vice president. He supposed he didn’t have a choice. A body of their peers likely voted upon it.
He tried his best to keep his tone even and said, “My love of antiquities was developed when I was a young boy.”
“Did you study it at school?” Harston questioned.
He shook his head. “No, my mother was a housekeeper for a lord. I used to swipe antiquity books from the gentleman’s study.”
Harston wrinkled his nose as if he found his explanation distasteful. Lord Hawley, who’d remained silent to date, grinned at him. Hawley had returned from somewhere in the East, where he was studying the ancient culture of the Assyrians. The man was always doing something.
Thomas smiled at him. “It is good to see you. I haven’t seen you since we were in that bit of trouble in Tuscany three years ago.”
Hawley laughed. “I’m still not sure how we ended up in the same city in the middle of a revolution.”
Thomas had been there to help a friend flee. To this day, he wasn’t sure what Hawley, scholar of all things ancient, was doing there. Tuscany was like a second home to Thomas. He’d always returned there between work. One of his dear, good friends, Messina, had needed help when he’d become a wanted man. Thomas has smuggled him out under the guise of being a professor of antiquities.
It was all over now. The quest to unite the region had failed, but whispers of unity still lingered in the area. Thomas suspected someday it would happen.
Hawley added, “I hear I should congratulate you. You are married to the Duchess of Lusby. Everyone is talking; it is apparently a love match.”
Thomas smiled. “It is.”
Harston rolled his eyes as if their conversation was beneath him. Hawley smirked at the man. “Harston, you do not help yourself by being uninterested in every conversation besides the one you want to have.”
The lord turned bright red. Martin, always the pacifier, said, “He is just dedicated to making sure nothing interferes with the club.”
Hawley sighed, and Thomas stated again, “I will not be joining the London Society of Antiquaries.”
Harston stood. “I think I will find a game to play.”
They all watched him storm off. Martin frowned. “He doesn’t mean any harm. He is very dedicated to the London Society of Antiquaries.”
Thomas studied the man. “Have you ever spoken with your daughter about the Historical Society of Female Curators? She is a key part of their success.”
Martin flushed. “I allow her to participate.”
Thomas found it sad that he wasn’t more supportive, but he supposed he couldn’t change that. His few conversations with Sarah Martin had been enlightening. She was a remarkable historian, particularly in the realm of art.
Martin stood. “I think I will join Harston.”
Both Thomas and Hawley nodded goodbye. They didn’t have a private moment together because Devons appeared.
Thomas nodded at him. Hawley stood, ready to depart. Devons shook his head. “Why don’t you stay? I know you’ve just returned, but you may have contacts I don’t.”
Hawley looked at them, intrigued. “Does this have to do with my wife’s club?”
Thomas said, “In a roundabout way.”
Devons sat and sighed. “Easton has been receiving fan mail that has become increasingly threatening.”
Hawley raised a brow. “Threatening to whom?”
“My wife. This person is upset and believes we should be married.”
Devons added, “I’ve tried to track them down from their letters, but whoever they are, they drop their letters at various places.”
Hawley frowned. “I’m not sure how you think I can help.”
