Chapter Four
Barbara couldn’t ever remember being this nervous about an antiquities salon, and it had everything to do with the man sitting across from her in the carriage, listening politely to her father expound upon the superiority of the ancient Greeks over all other cultures.
Every once in a while, Kenneth would glance at her and include her in the conversation, and she would go all warm and gooey inside. This man had the unique ability to do that to her, and she still wasn’t certain why.
Well, she knewwhy. He was a truly handsome specimen whose smile made her heart beat faster and her nether regions get allthrobby. There were enough pieces of erotic literature available to an enterprising young lady with her own library and funding to know what exactly that throbbing meant—and despite her best efforts, Margaret had beenmostdescriptive of the marriage bed. Barbara could admit that the idea of feelingthatwith this man excited her.
She wanted Sir Kenneth Fraser…and against all expectations, he seemed to want her as well.
Barbara had never encountered a man like that before.
Even now, giving every impression of listening to her father’s ridiculous claims that the Spartans were technologically superior to the Egyptian New Kingdom, Kenneth kept sending her amused little glances. As if they were both in on a joke and he wanted her to participate.
Finally, only a few streets from the Nutt home, he shifted on the squabs to ask, “And what is yer opinion, Miss Fokette?”
Yesterday he’d called herBarbara. Heavens, he’d called herBarbie, which no one had called her since she’d been four years old and Margaret had teased her. But he’d called her by her given name and listened intently as she’d expounded on her favorite topics.
And now he was doing it again. Looking at her. Listening.
The realization that he seemed to genuinely care about her opinion made her sit up straighter, made her smile. “I think, Sir Kenneth, my father has his blinders on when it comes to architecture, art, and weapons design.”
Papa began to sputter, Kenneth began to laugh, and Barbara smirked smugly at their old debate.
“Weapons design?Weapons design?” Papa’s voice got higher as he grew more irritated. “You think the khophesh sword was superior to the xiphos?”
Since she had thrown that particular example in merely to poke at her father, Barbara nodded firmly. “Absolutely. A proven success.”
As she knew he would, Papa launched into an animated—and peeved—lecture into the weaponry of ancient Greece…and across the carriage, Kenneth shared a small smile with her. The fact he’d recognized what she was doing made her feel as if she had a partner, and the feeling was quite heady indeed.
That shared amusement lasted all the way until they reached the Nutt home, the carriage pulling to a stop in the short line of those waiting to disgorge fellow academics. When it was theirturn, Kenneth hopped out first and helped down first her Papa, then Barbara.
His hold on her lingered, and when they turned to the stairs it seemed so natural to slip her hand into the crook of his arm, to feel his muscles beneath her fingertips.
To rely on him.
As he’d done at the Standish ball, Kenneth modulated his pace to fit her jolting one. She liked that he hadn’t referenced her disability again, even though she knew he must have seen her boot yesterday when he’d arrived in her library. While another man might have noted it, or at least asked what happened, it was as if Kenneth didn’t care.
That made her like him even more.
Be honest with yourself; you are just looking for excuses to fall in love with him, are you not? You just met the man!
Excuses to fall in love?
Barbara snuck a glance at his strong profile. She was half in love with him already, was she not?
The salon was a familiar comfort, and she appreciated that the men here—mostly older academics like Papa—more or less accepted her and her contributions. Later there would be refreshments and Mr. Nutt’s lecture, but for now they were free to examine his collection.
So, still safely tucked up at Kenneth’s side, Barbara began to lead him from stand to stand, murmuring explanations and descriptions. Just as he’d done yesterday, Kenneth’s contributions were insightful questions and teasing observations. He made her laugh more than once, the sound unnatural in the staid and sedate atmosphere.
And yet she gloried in it.
But as more people arrived to view the collection, the conversation picked up, and Barbara no longer felt quite so on display. She was able to raise her voice more—she had to, to beheard over the other discussions around them—and felt herself relaxing.
“And this piece is the real reason we are all here tonight,” she announced, finally tugging Kenneth toward the center of the room. “Mr. Nutt’s new false door stele.” She pointed a gloved finger down one edge of the stone. “See these carvings? This was from the tomb of a minor official during the Twelfth Dynasty, excavated near Abydos.”
“Very good, Miss Fokette!” came a jolly voice from behind, and Barbara and Kenneth stepped aside to welcome Papa and his friend, Mr. Sinter, to stand before the stele. “You’ve learned to read hieroglyphics faster than most!”
Mr. Sinter was a large man with a thick white beard and a large stomach, and surprisingly delicate hands. Chuckling, he thrust one of those hands out to Kenneth. “Klaus Sinter, young man. Although I’m not the host, allow me to welcome you to our little circle of academics!”
