‘But of course.’
Regally he closed the doors with a bow, sealing the gentlemen inside and then dragged her by the arm down the hallway and into the library where Eleanor was impatiently waiting.
‘Well, this is all unexpected, isn’t it?’ Although Max’s sister did not look the least bit fazed. ‘But exciting, no? Some emergency covert machinations are required while Max keeps them occupied in the drawing room. Fortunately, the spare rooms were only cleaned yesterday after my family left, so it shouldn’t take the maids long to put fresh linens on the bed. I shall tell Cook we are four more for dinner tonight and pray she can rustle something suitable up at such short notice. If she can’t, we shall ply them with wine and brandy and hope they don’t notice.’ She paced as she thought, ticking things off on her fingers.
‘Smithson, you sort out the tea and inform my brother I shall be with him as soon as possible. I shall assist him in stalling them with small talk until we can dispatch them to their bedchambers to rest before they dress for dinner. And, Effie—you need to dash home and gather up all your artefacts and I’ll have them all laid out in here as if they have always been here. This room will make a better museum than the study. I shall have the carriage dispatched to meet you there, as I suspect that will be quickest, and then you can bring it back and sneak it all in while the gentleman are safely ensconced in their rooms.’
‘Good idea!’ Effie was about to bolt out the door when Eleanor stopped her.
‘And if you are to be Max’s assistant, you should pack a bag, too, and I’ll have another room prepared for you.’
A prospect which made her panic far more than lying to the antiquarians did. ‘There really is no need when I only live across the pasture...’
‘There iseveryneed if we are to convince them of this ruse! You are the expert, not he, and my brother is bound to come unstuck left alone with them for three whole days! It will be much safer if you are staying here—at their beck and call and ready to intervene at a moment’s notice. I fear you must be his shadow, Effie. Because Max is doing this all foryounow, isn’t he?’
There was no arguing with that, because the logic was entirely sound, but logic did nothing to calm the enormous butterflies now flapping in her tummy or the nerves which were bouncing all over the place. But as sound as it was, it still did not explain Eleanor’s brother’s sudden and unexpected about-turn. ‘I suppose... Although I should really speak to Max first and see what he—’
‘There’s no time for that! I shall apprise Max as soon as I have dispatched your guests to their rooms while you go and fetch absolutely everything you think he might need to convince them he is not an impostor.’ Eleanor steered her to the door and practically pushed her through it. ‘And, Effie—make it a big bag as you will need both your digging clothes and suitable attire for dinner each evening. Something pretty and formal. That oozes all your feminine wiles... Like that lovely coral silk you wore to our first meal together? That is very becoming and guaranteed to distract them from asking too many questions.’
‘Do we want to distract them?’
‘We do until we have a proper plan!’
Chapter Eighteen
Dig Day 802: be careful what you wish for...
Alittle over three hours later, and entirely flustered, Max’s packed carriage finally turned towards the Rivenhall stables. Having no idea which artefacts to bring, she had brought them all and the tightly packed trunk contained enough clothes for every eventuality and far too many for just three days.
Not wanting to cause a scene or inadvertently put her foot in it, she intended to creep back into the house through the kitchens in search of her bafflingly changeable host or his sister so they could brief her on the plan. She hoped to God there was one, because with all the excitement and the packing and the panicking, she certainly had no clue what to do next and no earthly idea what exactly Max thought he was playing at. One minute she was the devil incarnate for taking his name in vain and the next she was his assistant and about to move into his house.
But as the carriage slowed, the man himself was waiting for her, looking more anxious than she had ever seen him. It was Max who opened her door, his expression thoroughly relieved.
‘Thank the Lord! Blasted dinner is in an hour and I am in over my head here.’ His big hand engulfed hers as he helped her down, then remained clasped around it, sending her already racing pulse galloping at the contact. ‘We need to talk, Effie. Urgently.’
She certainly agreed they did. She had absolutely no idea what was going on.
He tugged her to the quietest corner of the yard.
‘The first thing you should know is your antiquarians are happily settled in their rooms and have been for the last few hours...’ He glanced down at their intertwined hands, appeared startled that they were indeed intertwined and hastily severed the contact.
‘The second thing you need to know is I think I’ve managed to convince them that I know what I’m talking about when I really haven’t a clue. Although that is more to do with Eleanor’s gift of the gab and ability to charm the birds from the trees than my solid grasp on antiquity. It might also have something to do with Smithson’s liberal hand with the brandy. But...’ He huffed out a breath and ran a very agitated hand through his long hair, looking thoroughly mortified.
‘But?’
‘Lord Denby is the worst kind of snob and took real issue with me having a female assistant. In fact, it seemed to cause him a great deal of consternation and he simply would not let it lie... I’m sorry, Effie...’ His dark eyes were filled with remorse on her behalf.
‘All par for the course in my world, Max. Women are supposed to be decorative, not intelligent...’ Something about the way he stared down at his feet made her panic. ‘Do I need to leave?’ Because that would be the absolute icing on the cake. Not only would she be denied the recognition for the discovery—something she had resigned herself to the second she had signed his name on the letter—but now that Max had relented and was apparently going to play out the façade created by her poorly considered pseudonym, she was to be denied the opportunity to witness it even as a spectator. ‘Is the prospect of a woman at the dig so abhorrent to him?’
‘I’m afraid it’s worse than that.’
Worse! Oh, dear.
‘Thanks to Eleanor...’ He cleared his throat, his eyes darting to hers, then flicking away. And behind the curtain of hair he was suddenly hiding behind, she was almost certain she detected what looked a lot like a blush.
‘I am really not sure how to tell you the next bit, so I’ll just say it straight out... In view of his persistent and fixated outrage at your involvement with the paper...she told them you were my fiancée.’ He winced as he said it, as if he was waiting for her to hit the roof and seemed genuinely surprised when she neither said nor did anything beyond blink. Because frankly, after the million and one thoughts, questions and scenarios to careen through her mind these fraught past few hours, that certainly had not been one of them.
His next words came out in an embarrassed tumble. ‘To be fair to Eleanor, it did seem to do the trick and Lord Pompous backed off and immediately directed his over-active scepticism elsewhere.’
