“Truly?” Thea asked.
“Indeed,” he said with drama. The marquess was adept at storytelling. Esme supposed it was only one of his methods of charming the ladies. “There was no time to relight it, and the cave was far too dark for me to enter without light.”
“Whatever did you do?” Esme asked, unable to hide her own curiosity.
Max shrugged. “I waited. I hid myself as much as I could behind a large rock, and I waited. It didn’t take long for the men to appear.”
“Oh, those nasty fellows.” Thea clapped her hands. “They walked right past me and into the blackness of the cave,” he said.
Esme looked down and realized, in the excitement of the story, she’d already cleaned her plate.
“Without seeing you? What did you do next?” Thea asked.
“I followed them. They had three lanterns offering far more light than I’d had, and as long as I kept a measure of distance between us”—he winked—“they didn’t seem to notice.”
“You have a liking for danger, my lord; I can tell that about you,” Thea said, pointing her fork at him. “Did they ever discover you behind them?”
He took a slow sip of tea. “No, they never did.”
Max leaned back in his seat, and Esme could see why women found him so alluring. He had an easy way about him, so congenial and fun. But she’d seen on more than one occasion a darkening of his expression. She wondered what it was that lurked beneath his obvious charm.
“As it turned out,” he continued, “that particular quest was completely futile, though not without a bit of adventure.”
“Oh, goodness,” Thea said. “Quite an adventure, indeed. I believe I shall be off to my room for a while. I’m reading a delightful book.”
“Enjoy,” Esme said. She waited until her aunt had left the dining room before turning her attention back to Max.
“What of the map, my lord? Did you ever find it?” Esme asked.
“In fact, I did. Would you like to see it?”
“Very much,” she said. Perhaps she’d get the opportunity to inquire about his membership in Solomon’s. She followed him to his office, only a few doors down and across from the parlor in which they’d sat the day of their arrival. It seemed as if that had been a lifetime ago.
“Come in,” he said.
He went to stand at the framed map hanging behind his desk. It was unlike any she’d ever seen before. Hand-colored and exceptionally detailed, it was nothing short of beautiful.
She reached up but stopped herself before she touched the aging parchment. “I’m unfamiliar with this country,” she said.
He chuckled. “It is not a country, but rather the lost continent of Atlantis.”
“Atlantis? Is that the legend you study?” she asked before giving thought to the propriety of the matter. She knew very well that the men of Solomon’s kept their studies quite private.
“Yes, it is.”
“And this is the map you found?”
“Not in the caves of Dover,” he said, “but later in caves on a different coastline.” His blue eyes sparkled.
She looked around the rest of his office, noting the texts on Plato and Aristotle. On top of his desk was another map, this one of the world. He’d drawn lines and routes in several of the bodies of water. “Will you tell me more about Solomon’s?” she ventured. “Although I realize it might be improper to ask.”
“Of course not. Fielding is providing a very important service to our club, and we know you’ve been put in danger by the Raven. I should say you’ve earned the answers to a few questions.” He motioned to the chairs across from his desk. “Have a seat.” He seated himself behind the desk and with one hand opened a drawer to his left, retrieving a folded letter. He held it out to her.
She opened it to find he’d shared his invitation letter. The flourishing penmanship and quality of parchment spoke to the esteem of the group. Then she noted the date. “My lord, this invitation came fourteen years ago. You couldn’t have been more than—”
“Nineteen,” he provided. “I was one of the youngest members ever inducted. That will happen when you discover a map such as the one behind me. Up until then, no one had ever seen a map of Atlantis.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
