Mr. Price’s eyes flicked over the statue. “It appears to be whole.”
“It is, but it’s not in the same position as it was this morning.”
“Somebody moved it.” He shrugged.
Ami swept her hand toward the imposing figure. “Give it a go.”
“Challenge accepted.” He winked, then widening his stance, grabbed hold of the larger-than-life figure. His suit coat strained tightly across his broad shoulders as he put his weight into shifting the thing.
The statue didn’t budge.
He tried again, the muscles on his neck bulging as he used all his might.
Anubis remained firmly in place.
Breathing hard, he retreated a step.
“As you see, Mr. Price, no man alone can move this piece.”
He tugged down the cuffs of his sleeves. “True. So perhaps Barnaby had some of the staff shift the thing for cleaning.”
Ami shook her head. “After the cat incident, I gave your butler strict instruction not to allow anyone in here.”
“Well, clearly someone was ... a few someones.” He smirked.
“Impossible. I was in here all day.”
“Allday?” He cocked his head.
She bit her lip, reviewing how she’d spent her daylight hours and ... Bother! “I guess I did go check on the cat, and when I did so, Phineas asked me to hold the ladder for him while he pruned some of the branches on the willow.”
“There. You see? I shall speak with Barnaby and remind him no one is to be admitted to this room.”
“Thank you.”
Though the matter was settled, her gaze drifted back to the ebony snout and soulless black eyes of the god of embalming and mummification. It was kind of Mr. Price to reiterate her wishes to the butler, yet the fact remained it was highly unlikely Barnaby would have ordered two servants to shift this monstrosity a mere forty-five degrees. Doing so would serve no purpose whatsoever. But the worse alternative was that Barnaby hadn’t asked his staff to move it at all, because then there was only one explanation.
The curse of Amentuk had shifted it, and she couldn’t—shewouldn’t—believe that.
11
In the past week since he’d heard Ami Dalton’s Egyptian tale, Edmund had come close to kissing the woman at least three times. First, when she’d read her story, for he’d been both shocked and pleased that she’d share such a personal piece of writing with him. It had been a vulnerable move, one she’d entrusted to him simply because he’d asked, not because she expected anything from him for doing so. Days later, he’d come upon her in the workroom with wood shavings caught in her hair. Helping her pick them out had seemed the gallant thing to do at the time—until it turned into something more. Her bright laughter and smoky-cinnamon scent had nearly driven him to his knees. Then yesterday in the breakfast room, he’d almost pulled her into his arms for no reason whatsoever.
And now ... well, he really ought to turn around and go back to his study instead of seeking her out, for the woman was becoming quite the preoccupation. He’d keep his distance this time, for her sake and his, and be thankful that Gil had been keeping his distance as well this past week.
He plowed his hand through his hair as he strode to theworkroom. He didn’t have time for a relationship, not when he ought to be focused on pursuing a position in Parliament. And Miss Dalton had made it clear she aspired to be as renowned an Egyptologist as her father, so she didn’t have the time for him either. No, at this point, anything more than enjoying quippy conversation with the woman was out of the question. He’d do well to keep that in mind.
Thus fortified, he stepped into the workroom, trying hard not to notice how the August sun streaming through the window highlighted the copper strands in Miss Dalton’s perpetually ruffled hair. Most women couldn’t pull off such a devil-may-care appearance, but on her, it looked heavenly.
He cleared his throat. “Miss Dalton, I have something to show you.”
She peered over her shoulder at him. “Ah, Mr. Price. What a coincidence. I have something to show you as well.”
She shoved back her chair and approached the looming figure of Anubis. “It’s happened again. The statue moved overnight.”
His gaze drifted past her to the ebony giant. Sure enough, the jackal’s snout was now aimed straight at him. Despite his admonition to the butler, was Barnaby up to more antics?
“I shall have another word with Barnaby.” Edmund heaved a sigh as he faced Miss Dalton. “But first come with me.”
