“When I’m not occupied as a snake handler, yes.”
“Apparently I’ve been stuck behind the walls of academia for too long. I wasn’t aware there were any female Egyptologists in England. How did you come by your credentials?”
Bosh! Her degree in the classics had nothing to do with all the Egyptian knowledge she’d gleaned over the years. “Hard work and a father who heads the ancient studies department at Oxford.”
“Mmm, interesting,” he murmured, then snapped his fingers. “Dalton! You’re Archer’s daughter.”
“I am.” She waited as he shoved open the door and allowed her to pass. “And my position is not as novel as you may think, Professor. Flinders Petrie, one of our most renowned Egyptologists, didn’t earn any degrees related to archaeology either. Technically, an Egyptologist is merely one who studies all things related to Egypt. Mr. Petrie’s titles are honorary, yet his reputation as a scholar is undenied.”
“Petrie.” The name rolled slowly off his tongue. “Ah yes. I believe I know the fellow. Was he the one who discovered that large cache of Roman treasures at Hawara?”
“So you have heard of him—a man without a customaryformal education.” Though she really hadn’t meant to, a slight tone of vitriol slipped out with her words.
The professor held up his hands. “I meant no disrespect, Miss Dalton. In fact, it’s refreshing to find a kindred spirit who defies the expectations of society. Though I admit I am surprised to find such a comely woman in a stuffy profession like this.”
“Is that an oblique way of saying I’ve shattered your preconceived notions, sir?”
“Yes.” He grinned. “And I can’t say I like it. That’s usually my job.” His hand splayed over his chest. “But the world is full of wonder and contradictions, just like you, Miss Dalton.”
“I shall take that as a compliment coming from a man of academia. Now, would you like to see those coins?”
“Lead on.”
She strode into the workroom, and surprisingly, the professor passed right by the golden griffin without so much as a double take on the piece. Not that he’d have known about the curse, but its beauty usually drew one to it right away.
Pulling a small key from her pocket, she unlocked a safe box that Mr. Price had provided after the missing coin fiasco. She pulled out the leather pouch, then dumped the tiny cache onto the table.
He dragged over a chair and carefully scooped the coins closer to him. “That’s it. Come to papa, little ones.” He pinched a piece of the gold and held it in a ray of late afternoon sunshine streaming through the windows. His gaze was so intense, she doubted he knew she was still at his side.
“Can you value them, Professor?” She spoke low so as not to startle him.
“Can I?” He waggled his eyebrows as he set the coin down, then fingered through the rest. “Alexandrian, of course. Note the bust of the Egyptian god Serapis on some and the iconic Pharos lighthouse on others. Yet in addition to the Egyptian motifs...” He flipped over several of the gold pieces. “On a few you see the busts of Augustus and Tiberius—prominent emperors at the time—an eagle on this one and assorted Romanmythological deities on the rest. It was quite the fusion of cultures. I’d say they’re worth forty to fifty pounds.”
“That was fast. You certainly know your Roman antiquities.”
“In my case”—he cracked his knuckles—“an education at Cambridge did serve its purpose.”
Her gaze roamed the opulent room, albeit a bit cluttered with the remaining boxes to unpack. “It seems that education certainly paid off for Mr. Price as well.”
The professor clucked his tongue. “Not so much as you think. Like Flinders Petrie, he never finished his formal education.”
A frog in her soup bowl couldn’t have surprised her more. “Whyever not?”
“Ahhh.” His mouth quirked. “That’s his tale to tell.”
Unbidden, Phineas’s words of weeks ago surfaced.
“Ye remind me a great deal o’ her.”
“Her who?”
“I reckon tha’s for him to tell ye, miss.”
Ami frowned. “Evidently there are several things Mr. Price has not told me.”
“Well, you know the wealthy.” The professor slid coin after coin back into the pouch. “They hold their secrets tighter than an old dame clutching her pearls.”
Biting her lip, she turned away. First the gardener hinted at some sort of scandal involving a woman, and now Mr. Price had apparently also suffered some sort of disgrace at university. Was that what he’d meant when he’d told her he understood how difficult it was to be recognized as proficient without acceptable credentials? And then there was the supposed engagement Violet thought was in the making. What else was Mr. Price concealing? It seemed the man hid more intrigues than she did.
