“For everyone to leave. Then we’ll find the diary.” Her cat-green eyes narrowed. “You have this all figured out.”
“Of the two of us, I have more experience with theft. Unless you have something you wish to share with me.”
He folded his arms and raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps you have a better plan you’d like to propose?”
She eyed him silently for a while, then her lips pursed into a tight bud. “Of course not.”
He managed to control the laughter he felt brewing inside him. “Very well. Do you wish to remain in the carriage or perhaps go back to the marquess’s house?”
She looked completely affronted. “Absolutely not.” Without another glance, she opened the carriage door and stepped down completely unassisted. “It has been so long since I’ve visited this museum, I should very much like to see their new exhibits,” she announced perhaps too loudly. Subtle, she was not.
He matched her pace and held his arm out to her. She cautiously took it, meeting his eyes for more than a moment. They used the entrance off Montague Place and walked quietly through the hall.
No sooner had they entered the museum than he heard his name.
“Oh, Mr. Grey,” the voice called.
Fielding turned to his right and found James Silsbee, a former client, standing there. The older gentleman held his hat against his chest with one hand while he used the other to maneuver his cane.
“Mr. Silsbee,” Fielding said. “A pleasure to see you again. Allow me to introduce Miss Worthington.”
The man nodded to Esme. “You’ve certainly hired the best, madam. Mr. Grey here is responsible for unearthing the Great Library of Alexandria.” His eyes glistened when he smiled.
Esme whirled around to face him. “You found the library? The library?” she asked, her voice entirely too loud.
Fielding squeezed her arm. “Mr. Silsbee here provided me with extensive research; I only filled in the holes and did the actual digging.”
“Where did you find it?” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Beneath the Temple of Isis,” he said simply. “I’m afraid we’re in a bit of hurry,” he said to Silsbee.
“Oh, certainly, the museum closes soon. I may be in touch,” Mr. Silsbee said. “I believe I may have found a reference to Homer’s lost texts.”
“Very good,” Fielding said. He pulled Esme away. “This way,” he said.
“I cannot believe it,” she said. “What other treasures have you found? When you told me you hired yourself out to find antiquities, I assumed you were unearthing pottery and perhaps a gold staff or jeweled-handled blade every now and again. But this . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Her awe made him uncomfortable. He dropped her arm and shoved his inside his coat to check his watch. “We can talk about this another time,” he said. “Right now, we have other tasks to attend to.”
Fielding proceeded to the museum guard and showed him a card.
“Where are we going?” Esme whispered. “To the reading room.”
The guard moved aside to let them pass, and soon they had stepped into the grand reading room. Book-lined shelves filled the space, from the floor to the dome-shaped ceiling high about their heads.
Esme gasped, her hand finding its way to her necklace.
Her obvious joy pleased him. “I thought you might like the reading room.” Fighting his desire to kiss that smile from her luscious lips, Fielding shifted away from her.
“They’re not generous with passes, so I’ve never been in here,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. Her eyes never for a moment left the shelves in front of her. “I thought once to send in a request for a pass, but expected that a single woman would not be given much courtesy.”
He’d suspected as much, which was part of the reason he wanted to bring her in here before they had to hide themselves away. She was utterly transfixed, her eyes darting from one shelf to another. He found it difficult not to watch her.
Her passion for books tugged at something deep inside him. There had been a time so long ago when he’d loved books and history and the promise of adventure. Things had changed, though, and he’d had to face responsibility and be an adult, earn money to pay off his father’s debts.
She walked straight up to a shelf and bent to read the titles. Then she trailed her hand against the spines as she walked to another shelf. Standing up on the tips of her toes, she perused a row of books above her head.
Seeing the room through her eyes, it was as if he too was seeing it for the first time. The tiers of shelves led up to great windows that surrounded the bottom half of the copper dome, and the early evening sky was already lightly dusted with stars. Several men sat at the rows of desks that jutted out from the walls of the room like spokes on a wheel.
