“Do you always keep your Egyptologist in the yard?” Bram asked as they worked their way to the rear of the house.
“Only when—”
A scream leached through the outside door. Edmund’s heart plummeted. Had Miss Dalton been hurt? Violet was known to be verbally abusive, but surely she’d not taken to hair pulling.
He barreled outside, feet spraying up gravel. He and Bram had barely cleared the garden entrance when Miss Dalton flung a snake through the air.
Then she casually dusted off her hands as if she’d done nothing more than pick a few dahlias. “Calm yourself, MissWoolsey. It’s not like it’s an Egyptian saw-scaled viper. It’s merely an adder, which isn’t nearly as deadly.”
Edmund’s breath hitched as he charged ahead. What an extraordinary display of bravery and composure! He’d known she was an uncommon woman, one that intrigued him like none other, but this? Absolutely captivating, to the point that he barely registered Violet sprawled on the ground.
Phineas sped from the opposite direction, reaching the ladies before he and Bram. “Ho ho! That was quite a throw. Be ye all right, Miss Dalton?”
Violet pushed up, a scowl creasing her brow and dirt smudging her chin. “What about me?”
Miss Dalton hefted her from the ground with a pull to her arm. “It was just a small tumble, Miss Woolsey. You’ll be right as a hen’s feathers after a cup of tea.”
“Who is that?” Bram huffed beside him.
“That is my Egyptologist.”
His friend blew a low whistle. “You don’t say.”
“Oh, Edmund.” Violet launched herself against his chest the second he and Bram reached the ladies. “I was so frightened.”
Stiffly, he raised one arm and patted her back. How did one calm a woman without encouraging further attention? Thankfully, once her father talked with her about his refusal to marry, this sort of unwarranted attention would stop. “Yes, well, it looks as if Miss Dalton has squared things away.”
“That she has.” Phineas chuckled. “A right good toss o’ that snake, lass, though if ye all will excuse me, I’ll just be findin’ where the little devil landed and send him on his way.” Tugging his forelock, he wheeled about.
Miss Dalton swiped up a very dirty silk slipper and held it out. “Here is your shoe, Miss Woolsey.”
The moment Violet released her grip to collect her shoe, Edmund stepped aside, putting distance between them. “Though this may be an inopportune time, I should nevertheless like to introduce you ladies to my old friend, Professor Bram Webb. Bram, meet Miss Dalton, Egyptologist, and—” He waitedfor Violet to straighten to full height after slipping her foot into her wayward slipper. “Miss Woolsey, daughter of Lord Bastion.”
Bram dipped his head, a gleam in his grey eyes, particularly when his gaze landed on Miss Dalton. “Pleased to meet you, ladies.”
“You as well, Professor Webb.” Miss Dalton dipped her head.
“Professor.” Violet sniffed, then turned to him. “Edmund, I should like a lie-down before dinner. Will you see me inside, please?” She wrapped her arm around his, tighter than any snake could coil.
“Of course.” The words came out thinly, but at least they came out. “Miss Dalton, the professor has traveled from Cambridge and is here to value those Roman coins. I’ll escort Miss Woolsey to her maid, then join you in the workroom.”
Though it killed him to do so, he turned away with Violet, leading her off with a brisk pace. Leaving Bram alone with Miss Dalton was as dangerous as leaving him unattended in the sitting room, for his old friend didn’t only have a reputation for pocketing cigars.
He was known to steal women’s hearts as well.
The longer Ami assessed Professor Bram Webb, the more a slow smile curved her lips. Scruffy hair the colour of weak tea lay jagged against his worn collar. Whiskers that ought to be shaved shadowed the line of his jaw. The lower two buttons at the bottom of his waistcoat were missing, and the hem on his right trouser leg pulled from the seams at the outer edge. Was this what her father had looked like in his younger years? All harum-scarum and society be hanged?
Then again, she’d been accused of such on numerous occasions too.
With a jerk of his head, Professor Webb flicked back his unruly hair. “I must say, Miss Dalton, your snake-throwing skills rival those of the ancient gladiators.”
“When you grow up with a father who has a fondness for ophiology, you learn at a young age how to handle them.” She swung her hand toward the house. “Shall we go inside?”
A playful glint flashed in his grey eyes. “It seems you have a talent for not only taming serpents but the hearts of unsuspecting scholars as well. Lead on, m’lady, for I am eager to see what other surprises you have in store.”
She turned away lest he see her smile. He was a playful pup, his tone nothing like the oily flirtations of Mr. Fletcher. How many women had fallen for that handsome face and rugged charm? He could turn a girl’s head, all right. But not hers. Only one dark-haired man claimed that privilege. Perhaps she ought to introduce Professor Webb to Polly.
He fell into step beside her, matching her stride. “So you’re the Egyptologist?”
