“I thought as much,” he replied. “How is she?”
“Absolutely miserable.” She shook her head. “The poor woman. I feel bad for leaving her alone all night. When I left my room, I didn’t intend to stay with you so long.”
He held her gaze, all his promises to himself flying out the window once again. “I’m glad you stayed.”
“So am I,” she admitted,
The pain deep inside him went dormant, if only for a few moments. This was how it could have been. This was how itshouldhave been.
Before Max could respond, a shadow fell over their table. Sir Thaddeus Albright sidled up, his smile thin and unpleasant. Max had unfortunately run into him a few times in Cairo—a minor scholar who believed his own meager publications qualified him to judge the truly brilliant.
“A truly wild night, wouldn’t you say, Lady Eden?” Albright’s voice was oily, and Max didn’t like the way he was looking at her. “I must confess, I found myself thinking of all those lectures you attended in London. All that talk of the ancient world. A shame, really, that your little sightseeing trip might be over before it’s even begun.”
Eden straightened, her back rigid. “The storm was an inconvenience, nothing more. We intend to proceed as planned.”
“Of course you do,” he said, the words dripping with condescension. “But the desert is so dreadfully hot, isn’t it? One might almost suspect that after all that chatter about dusty old books and vague theories, the reality of arealexpedition will prove too much for a delicate constitution.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You know, the rumor in London is that your late husband’s social circle is taking bets on how soon you’ll return. It’s not a question ofifyou tire of this whim, but when. A foolish endeavor, orchestrated by a foolish woman, so the story goes.”
A low growl of fury escaped Max. The storm last night had left Eden somewhat vulnerable, and Sir Thaddeus Albright was circling like a vulture.
Albright glanced at Max, a new, mocking glint in his eyes. “Oh, my apologies, Thorne. I forgot you were a part of this folly. The loyal soldier, standing by his... benefactor. One can only imagine what comforts the storm forced you to share when Lady Eden needed a man to steady her nerves.”
Max pushed his chair back, the scrape of wood on the floor silencing the entire room. The cool composure he’d cultivated since the war was gone, replaced by a raw, protective instinct to protect what was his.
Before he could speak, a cool hand settled on his arm. “Max. Sit down,” Eden’s voice was low, but a steely command lay beneath her quiet tone. “He’s not worth it.”
He hesitated, the urge to silence Albright warring with his need to please her. He met her gaze, and in her eyes, he saw not fear, but a weary resolve. She was right. Violence would only prove Albright’s point. Max slowly sat back down, his jaw tight.
A low, sneering laugh escaped Albright. “A pity, Thorne. I was hoping for a more... physical defense of your lady’s honor.” He gave a mocking bow. “Good day.” He turned and sauntered away, a trail of smug satisfaction in his wake.
The silence that followed felt heavy. Max’s anger simmered beneath the surface. Eden stared out the window, her knuckles white where she gripped the arms of her chair.
“He’s a fool,” Max finally said, the words feeling inadequate.
Eden let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “No, he’s not a fool. He’s a product of his upbringing, just like all the others. He believes what he’s been taught to believe: that a woman’s mind is a delicate thing, prone to flights of fancy. That my passion for this work is merely a passing interest, a whim of a wealthy woman.”
She finally looked at him, her eyes glistening. “Do you know how maddening it is? To have a man look at you and see a silly woman playing with dusty old books? To have them pat you on the head and praise your ‘diligence’ and then dismiss everything you say as charming nonsense?”
Max had to look away from the raw hurt in her eyes. “He doesn’t know how hard you’ve worked, how strong you are,” he said, thinking of the long, lonely years she’d spent poring over texts, the very years that they’d been apart.
“No, he doesn’t,” she said, her voice dropping. “But he isn’t the only one who thinks that I’m a widow with too much time on her hands, dabbling in a man’s world. They think thatthis expedition is my desperate, foolish attempt to carve out a purpose for myself. And God, Max, I want to prove them wrong more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I want to find that labyrinth. I want to hold that scarab in my hands and tell them all that they were wrong. Every single one of them.”
Max reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “We will,” he promised, his voice low and firm. “We will find it.” He felt the quiet tremor in her hand beneath his, and for the first time, he believed what he said.
Last night had changed things, and he no longer wanted to simply get her home safely. No, he wanted to help her prove her theories and stick it to everyone who’d ever doubted her, even himself.
Later that evening, the deck of theConstellationwas lit only by the low-hanging moon and the faint glow of the ship’s lanterns. Eden stood at the rail, the cold sea spray misting her face as she watched the inky water churn beneath her. The humiliation of what had happened in the dining room this morning lingered, a bitter aftertaste she couldn’t wash away.
Albright’s words and the knowing glances of the other passengers had cut deeper than she cared to admit. She had been foolish to think she could escape London society’s judgment even here.
A familiar presence joined her at the rail. She didn’t have to look to know it was Max. He stood there, a solid, comforting figure beside her, his quiet strength a stark contrast to the roiling waves below.
“If you’re thinking about what happened with Albright, don’t. He’s just jealous because he’s never accomplished anything on his own,” Max said, breaking the silence. His voice was low andrough, but the steady kindness in it eased the tension in her shoulders.
“I know,” she murmured, smiling tiredly. “Thank you for that, though. For standing up for me.”
He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I’d do it a hundred times over.”
A quiet moment passed between them, filled with the rush of the ocean and the steady hum of the engines. She thought of their stolen moments in her father’s library, of the easy laughter and intellectual sparring that had been the foundation of their affection. The years since had been long and lonely. Thank God she’d found the other widows to fill some of that void, but even though she loved them dearly, it wasn’t the same.
