Page 86 of Courting the Country Miss

“Perhaps…but I rather frown on virgin sacrifices―”

“For which I am grateful.”

“—but I suppose I could offer something else.” He handed her into the barouche.

“Such as?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have any suggestions?”

She pretended to think as the carriage rolled over the streets. “You could sacrifice your wild ways.”

“I already have. Or haven’t you noticed?”

She laughed. “Oh, of course. How could I forget?”

He sobered. “I’m serious.”

Patting his hand, she gave him an almost matronly shake of her head. “A few weeks may not be an adequate sacrifice.”

“You believe me un-genuine?”

Still smiling, she shrugged. “I think your changes will be short-lived.”

“I think you will be surprised.”

Her eyes turned soft and her smile embodied everything affectionate and lovely. She made no comment.

Mentally, he sighed. He couldn’t blame her. He had years of bad conduct for which he must atone, and it might take a decade of good behavior to prove to her he had changed in truth.

In front of the British Museum, they climbed the stairs, passing between the enormous columns, to the entrance.

He paused in the main area. “Do you wish to view other displays as well as the sculptures?”

She retrieved a guide from her reticule and studied it. “Let’s see the sculptures first, then browse as we have time.” She smiled, a genuine warmth that he hoped she gave no one else. Reading aloud from the guide, she gestured. “I think it’s this way.”

Inside the Elgin Room, a curator gave them a bland description and brief history of the famous and controversial Parthenon Marble Sculptures, which some called simply the Elgin Marbles.

Tristan breathed a sigh at the mind-numbing narrative. “I don’t think they could have found a more coma-inducing guide if they searched the entire world.”

Leticia chuckled. “What do you think of Lord Elgin bringing the marble sculptures from Greece to England?”

“I think he was a self-serving vandal.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Surely not.”

“Even Lord Byron disapproves. In Child Harold’s Pilgrimage, he lamented that ‘the antiquities of Greece had been defaced by British hands.’ I’m inclined to agree.”

Her eyes sparkled the way they did when she embarked on a debate. “If he protected them from destruction, then he saved valuable works of art. He did bring them here for the world to enjoy. John Keats wrote a sonnet that celebrates the Elgin Marbles.”

Taken aback, Tristan stared. “Since when do you read poetry?”

“I don’t, as a rule, but I read about this one. It’s what piqued my curiosity about seeing the marbles in the first place.” She nodded to the art in question.

Tristan gestured to a sculpture of a horse’s head nearby. “Is it everything you’d hoped?”

“I admit I prefer the images carved into a frieze over the statues—they are more intact. All those headless and armless statues are a bit disconcerting. They must have been spectacular in their prime, though, don’t you think?”

Tristan eyed them. “I’m sure.” Wickedly, he asked, “Your feminine sensibilities aren’t offended by all the male nudes?”