The footman opened the door, and Max stepped inside, finding himself face-to-face with a lovely woman whose dark hair was shot through with gray. He judged her to be in her late forties or early fifties. She surveyed him with an intensity that was honestly quite terrifying.
“Max Thorne, I presume?” she said as he settled across from her.
He nodded abruptly. “Can I ask what this is about, Your Grace? I have a train to catch in less than half an hour, as I’m sure you know.”
She ignored the implied threat to his schedule. “I just wanted to meet you before you escort Lady Eden off to the desert. She’s very dear to me, you see, and I’d take it as a personal affront if something were to happen to her.”
Sinking back against the luxurious velvet squabs, Max did his best not to let a smile tug at his lips. A duchess, one of the most powerful women in the Empire, was threatening him, and the sheer ridiculousness of it amused him. He was also genuinely glad that Eden had friends who cared enough about her to make such a theatrical intervention.
“Nothing about this journey will be easy,” he told the duchess, meeting her gaze. “By its very nature, it will be dangerous. But I will do my best to keep her safe. She is very special to me as well.”
She placed a delicate fingertip to her lips, still staring at him with unnerving intensity. “Do you love her?”
The question was so direct, it took his breath away. He swallowed, breaking her gaze, and stared out the window into the distance. The roar of the approaching train was audible, a metallic scream promising escape.
“I’ll die to protect her if that’s what it takes,” he finally admitted, his voice flat.
She stared at him for another long moment as though trying to see into his very soul and then sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s the best answer I can hope for,” she said, gesturing toward the door. “You may go.”
Apparently, the interview was over.
The footman opened the door, and Max stepped back onto the bustling pavement, slightly rattled by the duchess’s audacity. But her words lingered:“Do you love her?”
Of course, he did. He always had. And now, knowing that her very life rested in his hands, that love felt like a lead weight pressing down on his chest. It was a complication he neitherwanted nor needed, but one he could not escape. The only path forward was the one he’d already promised himself: rigorous, absolute professionalism.
When Willoughby Hall came into view at the end of the lane, Eden sighed with relief. Genevieve’s seaside home had soothed her since the first time she’d seen it, and she badly needed a day of relaxation before she set out for Egypt.
The last few weeks had been a blur of activity. Max’s involvement in the preparations had been meticulously impersonal; his last communication, a terse note detailing when she needed to board the ship, had contained nothing beyond logistical instructions. Max had taken the train down to Dover earlier that morning to make sure all their supplies made it aboard, and she had come home to gather a few remaining things and, unfortunately, Mrs. Carlisle before meeting him at the docks tomorrow.
She clambered out of the carriage without waiting for the footman and hurried inside the house. Both Daphne and Genevieve had remained in London, and Mrs. Carlisle would arrive by coach later, so it was blessedly quiet. After quickly refreshing herself, she went outside and took the well-worn path to the cottage next door. Though she’d appreciated Genevieve and Daphne’s concern, she needed Lavender’s sweet honesty more than ever.
She rapped upon the front door, smiling as she heard the familiar, chaotic din of children and a barking dog inside. The cottage was busting at the seams with Kendrick’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Miranda, her two half-siblings, Rafael and Teresa, whom Kendrick and Lavender had adopted after their mother’sdeath, and their adorable spaniel, Daisy—a warm, loud world of domesticity.
Eight-year-old Rafael flung the door open, his dark eyes widening with delight. “Aunt Eden!” he exclaimed. “We thought you were in London!”
“I was,” Eden replied, grinning as he stood aside to let her enter the cottage. “But I’m back now, and I wanted to see your mum before I leave for Egypt tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Lavender asked, entering the room with a harried look upon her lovely face. The scent of freshly baked bread and woodsmoke clung to her dress. She tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear and motioned for Eden to join her on the sofa. “What on earth? Tell me everything!”
Rafael left the room to join his siblings out in the garden. As Eden looked around at Lavender’s cozy, busy home, she felt a familiar tug of wistful longing. Lavender’s path of having children and a loving husband was a beautiful thing, but one she’d always known would never be hers.
“I finally found a guide for my Egyptian expedition,” she said, tamping down her momentary distress. “He’s already in Dover, and I’m meeting him at the ship tomorrow afternoon. Then we’re off to Alexandria.”
“This all seems so sudden,” Lavender observed, stretching and slouching in a very unladylike way, clearly savoring her moment of quiet.
“To me, it feels as though it’s taken a lifetime,” Eden said with a shake of her head. She swallowed dryly. “Do you remember when I told you about my old love?”
“Of course,” Lavender said with a frown. “But what does he...” She trailed off, obviously putting the pieces together.
Eden nodded, hysterical laughter welling up within her. She forced it down. “It’s him, Lavender. His name is Max Thorne. I haven’t seen him since my father denied his suit all those yearsago, but now we’re going to Egypt together.” It still seemed surreal, but saying it aloud made it feel so much more real.
“Max Thorne,” Lavender murmured, her brow furrowing in concern. “I must confess, when you spoke of him, I assumed he was a gentleman. Is he even qualified for such a thing?”
“Heisa gentleman. He’s the younger son of an earl. But he is still highly qualified,” Eden assured her. “He studied archeology at Oxford, served in the military for a decade, and has led several expeditions in Egypt already.”
“So you’re not worried about the dangers to your person,” Lavender surmised. “You’re worried about the dangers to your heart.”
Eden nodded in relief. She’d known Lavender would understand. “I’ve thought about him all these years. I don’t think I ever really got over him. And seeing him again... All those feelings came back. He’s even more handsome than I remember. I’m terrified that I’ll fall right back into his arms, and he’ll just walk away without a backward glance again.”
