“Fridaythe thirteenth?” He chuckled. He and Uncle were set to face the board on that ill-fated day too. “How fitting.”
“Quite.” Her eyes changed to a ghostly blue, the melancholy sort that songs were written about ... and the sight drove a knife into his chest. Would that he could wave a magic wand andmake things right for her. “Well then, how about I spend some time crating up these beauties, and we make a trip to Cambridge next Monday? I am certain I can persuade the powers that be at Trinity to purchase this lot for the college. The paperwork could take several weeks, which would be cutting it close to your deadline, but at least it is a possibility.”
“Wemake a trip?”
“I hardly think you will let me take a load of valuables on the road by myself. Uncle Pendleton will join us, and we shall make a merry day of it.”
“Oh, Bram.” Sadly, she shook her head. “Please do not think I mistrust you so very much. It is just that I need to be cautious. I cannot afford to lose anything more that might bring in money.”
“I understand, Eva. Truly, I do.” But that didn’t mean he liked it. He’d do anything to regain that gaze of confidence she’d given him the night of the bonfire. Absently, he laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles.
Eva frowned. “When are you going to stop doing that?”
He picked up her hand, hovering her fingertips in front of her face. “When you stop biting your nails.”
The grin they shared did much to soothe the irritations of the past week.
“Of course, if we happen to unearth the Holy Grail, then I imagine you will be set for life monetarily. You shall never have to nibble your fingernails again.”
Her lips parted with an intake of air. “Do you really think it could be here?”
“My uncle seems to think so. Personally, I highly doubt it ... though I have learned to never say never.”
“Hmm.” Once again Eva wandered the length of the table before returning to his side. “Some say the grail has mystical powers. That it can heal. It would be lovely if that were true and Penny could regain her vision.”
He shook his head. “God alone heals, though I suppose He could choose any means He likes through which to do so. Then again, I am no theological expert.”
“Maybe not, but you are a man of faith.” She glanced up at him, a glimmer of appreciation in her pale eyes.
Was she beginning to rethink her doubts of him? He chewed the inside of his cheek, wishing to God it were so. But even if it was, once she learned the truth of his parentage, she would no doubt put distance between herself and him.
And he wouldn’t blame her.
Frustrated, he plowed his fingers through his hair. “Eva, I—”
Heels clicked into the room, the swish of the housekeeper’s skirts rustling with each step. “A letter arrived for you, sir.”
He took the sealed envelope. “Thank you, Dixon.”
He studied it as she clipped away. The penmanship didn’t look familiar, nor was there an official college seal. A simple paste glue wrinkled the edge of the back flap.
Eva handed him a pencil. “It is a far cry from a letter opener, but as you well know, I do not think my nails will be very effective at breaking the seal.”
His lips twisted wryly as he slid the thing beneath the flap and shook out the folded paper that’d been tucked neatly inside. The more he read, the wider his eyes grew. Mr. Toffit hadn’t been jesting about being impressed with his archaeological practices, initiative, and leadership. The curator position was his—with a hefty salary—all for the signing of his name on the bottom line ... a signature that was due in two weeks. Blast! Why could this not have been offered next May when his uncle would be settled into his retirement?
“Must be important,” Eva murmured. “You are quite engrossed.”
He peered at her, the sense of her words slowly coming together. “Oh, yes, I suppose.”
“May I ask what has you so pensive?”
“You may ask me anything.” He smiled. “It seems the Royston Historical Society is making good on their offer of employment. This is a document for me to sign as their curator.”
“I see.” She brought her finger to her lips, then caught herself and dropped her hand. “What will you do?”
There was a tilt of genuine curiosity to her head. Interesting, that. “Would you like me to move back to Royston?”
The blush of a summer rose spread across her cheeks. “I would not think my opinion should make a difference.”
