“Oh. Yes, of course.” She gulped an obligatory mouthful, then set down the spoon. “Now, as I was saying, there is a history to this particular artifact I think you should know about and—”
“AndI have no doubt you shall tell me, but in due time.” With a wave of his finger, he signaled for the soup to be replaced with the fish. “I did not invite you to dinner to talk shop but rather to get to know you.”
“Me?” A musical little laugh trilled past her lips. “I assure you I am far less interesting than what I’ve just discovered.”
“Yet as your employer, I require it. Five minutes—just five—and then you can tell me all about your discoveries.”
“You are a very insistent man, Mr. Price.” Playfulness lit the golden flecks in her eyes. “If your career in business doesn’t go well, you’d make a fine archaeologist.”
How deftly she turned his words from days ago back on to him. He couldn’t help but respect the complex thoughts behind that lovely face, storing away trivialities to be reclaimed at will—and to her own benefit. He grinned. “I shall take that to heart. Nevertheless, my request still stands.”
Suddenly interested in her food, she took a bite of cod, chewing with a thoughtful tilt to her head. How curious. What sort of woman was not given to speak about herself for hours on end?
“Very well,” she said at length. “What is it you wish to know about me?”
“All your deep, dark secrets, naturally.”
Her lips parted slightly, her face paling to the colour of her fish, but only for an instant. Had he blinked, he’d have missedthe slip. So ... his instinct about her did prove true. The eccentric Miss Dalton was a woman of mystery.
“Do not fret.” He arched a brow. “I merely jest. A lady ought to keep her secrets. While it is no great riddle you love all things Egyptian, I wonder if other interests ignite your passions. What else do you enjoy besides your work?”
“Well, you may think it silly, but there are two other things I adore. One is poetry—nonsense poetry, to be exact.” She set aside her fork, cleared her throat, then flourished her hand in the air. “‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son. The jaws that bite, the claws that catch.’” Her voice lowered to an ominous tone, her eyes narrowing. “‘Beware the Jubjub bird and shun the frumious Bandersnatch!’”
So animated, so earnest was she, a great belly laugh ripped out of him. Sweet heaven. When was the last time a woman had so enthralled him? “Oh, Miss Dalton, I hardly think that a silly passion. After all, ‘poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds.’”
Her head reared back. “You are familiar with Percy Bysshe Shelley? I wouldn’t think that standard fare for a man of your business savvy.”
“Ah, but you see, Miss Dalton, I have my secrets too.” He winked. “Besides poetry, what else do you love?” Once again he signaled for the next course.
Miss Dalton dabbed her lips with the serviette, leaning back slightly as her plate was replaced. Picking up her fork to tackle the beef and gravy, she paused before stabbing a piece. “Honeybees,” she said simply.
Honeybees?He cocked his head. “Is that some sort of feminine delicacy like petit fours or bonbons?”
“Do you really think I’m the type to sit about and eat sweets, Mr. Price?”
“Surely you don’t mean the sort that buzz and sting.”
“The very same.” She grinned, then chewed a mouthful. “Someday I hope to have my own apiary, though I suppose I shall have to learn the details as to how to go about that.”
Of all the oddities. He set down his fork, more entranced by the enigma in a blue skirt than his beef and potatoes. “Why such an interest?”
“It’s a bit of a story, but since you ask.” She set down her fork as well. “I don’t recall much about my mother, as she died when I was young, but I do remember her great love of gardening. I’d spend entire days with her outside, and it was the bee skep that most intrigued me. Flitting in and out, gathering pollen and nectar, those honeybees worked tirelessly, each doing their part to make the hive a success.”
She leaned back in her chair, eyeing him. “There’s a connection between teamwork and achievement, you know. Just like bees, people can accomplish so much more if they work together toward a common goal instead of insisting upon selfish ambitions.”
“Lofty thoughts for a young woman. If I didn’t know any better, Miss Dalton, I’d say you were trying to impress me.”
“Bosh!” She snorted—quite unladylike but endearing all the same. “I didn’t mean to imply I was a philosopher. Those are merely ideas that have come to me over the years.”
“Well, whether you meant to or not, the fact is, I am impressed. And if you care to ruminate any further on the matter of bees or teamwork, Price House maintains a garden out back. You are welcome to visit it any time.”
“Thank you. I may take you up on that offer.” She tossed back her shoulders. “But now for you. Don’t think for a moment you’ll escape the same question. What does a businessman find captivating other than coins and ledgers?”
“I suppose it’s only fair.” He waved away their plates. She didn’t seem any more interested in what was left of dinner than he was, not if the gleam in her eye was any indication. “I enjoy cricket, for one, though I am no champion of the game by any stretch of the imagination. Other than that, I adore traveling. I’ll never turn down the chance to explore a new land.”
She shook her head, lips twisting. “No good.”
His brows shot up. “Do you presume to tell me what I do or do not care for?”
