He could think of nothing to say other than, “It suits ye, Barbie.”
Her brows went up. “Barbie?”
“Babs?”
She turned away, but not before he saw her lips twitching. “Barbie was bad enough. I am certain you did not arrive here to discuss women’s fashion, Sir Kenneth. Allow me to introduce you to Amenemheb-seneb.”
About to protest that he didn’t mind discussions of women’s fashions, as long as they were with her, Kenneth was derailed by that offer. Particularly when she stepped up to what was unmistakenly a sarcophagus.
“Amena-who?” He stumbled after her. “Ye own yer own mummy?”
“Do not be silly, it is notmymummy. This is Amenemheb-seneb’s final resting place, but he is no longer here. I adore the art of the sarcophagus, look.” She pointed to a line of hieroglyphics marching along the edge of the stone. “He was a scribe of the Royal Treasury in the Eighteenth Dynasty, and the Overseer of Granaries.” Her fingers traced a scene of birds—who looked remarkably like doves—pecking at seeds. “These weredone with more whimsy than usual, and make me wonder what sort of man he must have been.”
Kenneth had been distracted by the graceful line of her finger and hummed in encouragement. Truthfully, he hadn’t cared about the antiquities, and had just used the excuse to get closer to Barbara. But the expression on her face just now reminded him of the way she’d been studying those phallic satyrs on Standish’s cornices.
As she launched into an examination and explanation of the art before them, Kenneth grew distracted by the depth of her knowledge and understanding.
These antiquities actually were quite interesting, weren’t they?
He found himself asking questions out of curiosity and something more. Helikedthe way she lit up when she approved of his question and launched into another clarification. Barbara Fokette spoke with her hands as she became more animated, and he was positively enchanted.
How different this young lady was from the one Merevale had originally pointed out, sitting plain and dejectedly and alone along the wall at the ball.
Kenneth liked this one so much better.
To his surprise, that realization had no bearing on his mission to seduce her; he would have been just as pleased to do so when she was an unassuming wallflower. But now he’d had the chance to meet therealBarbara, he suspected he would enjoy her so much more. She was enthusiastic, and witty, and brilliant.
And he found himself utterly entranced.
Who’s seducing who, eh?
“Sir Kenneth?” Her prompt, midway through an explanation about a papyrus fragment, startled him from his thoughts.
“Please, love. Call me Kenneth.” The way she had when he’d arrived and seen genuinejoyspark in her eyes.
Her brow twitched, then her lips slowly curved into a smile. “I was asking if you remembered the canopic jars from the Earl’s collection last night.”
“The vases with animal heads? Aye, of course. Ye were excited to see them.”
“I was.Thispiece is the closest I have.” Her fingers hovered over the top of a jar with a jackal’s head. “This is one of the canopic jars belonging to Khedebneithirbinet, a princess—daughter of one of the Psamtiks of the Twenty-Sixth Dynasty. The patina onthisone is how I recall it.”
That was an odd thing to say, and an accompanying little furrow had appeared between her brows.
“What do ye mean?” he asked, stepping up beside her to peer down at the carved stone.
But she shrugged. “It is probably nothing. I thought…” As she inhaled, her shoulder brushed his. “Last night there was something tugging at my memory, but it is very likely I was imagining things.”
Frowning now, Kenneth twisted and scooped up her hand. “Dinnae downplay yer instincts, love. This is clearly yer area of expertise, and ye shouldnae hide yer talent.”
She made no move to pull her hand from his, and Kenneth began to rub the inside of her wrist with the pad of his thumb almost without a thought.
“Barbara?” he murmured.
“I…I think that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Youarea charmer, sir.”
“Perhaps,” he found himself admitting. “Though it’s true.”
“Thank you.” She dropped his gaze, turning to look at her collection. “And thank you for listening to me go on about mypassion. Few people, and fewer men, are interested in hearing me spout history and lineages.”
