Page 24 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“Splendid. Another night of intellectual discourse sounds delightful.”

He couldn’t agree more. He offered to carry her large bag, and she surrendered it.

As they strolled toward the Erechtheion, Jonathan took over the tour, sharing with her what he’d learned about the ruins from his father. Various groups of travelers ceased their conversations as he spoke, murmuring affirming words such as interesting or brilliant. Perhaps he hadn’t mingled with the right crowds in London.

When they approached the Porch of Caryatids, Evangeline lowered her parasol and tipped her head back. The sunlight struck her curls, the color reminiscent of a sunset. Her lips were parted as she gazed at the spectacular sculptures—five ladies in Grecian robes supporting the structure.

“Isn’t it the most marvelous work of art you have ever seen?”

He smiled, his gaze never straying from her. “Lovely.”

“Yes, the way they appear to be holding the roof with such grace and ease.” She held her hand out for her sketchbook, oblivious to his true admiration. “I want to sketch them.”

He handed over the tote, chuckling softly. Her complete absorption in the art was refreshing, even as it bruised his pride. She barely seemed to register his presence as he offered to hold her parasol while she sat on a rock. He stood guard, shading her with the parasol, fascinated by her hand flying over the paper and the charcoal recreating their surroundings. Her talents would be invaluable in the field.

While she worked, he allowed his mind to wander—imagining the two of them together on a dig.

“Evangeline!” Her sister’s sharp tone snapped him out of his reverie, but she kept working.

“Yes, Regina?”

“You’re soiling another gown. The poor maid will be happy when we’re gone.”

“Oh!” She stood quickly, brushing the dust from her backside.

Jonathan’s gaze strayed to her bottom.

Xavier forcefully cleared his throat. Jonathan flinched, heat scorching his face. When he met the other man’s gaze, a mixture of amusement and censure was in his eyes.

“Mind yourself, sir,” he said in French.

Jonathan ducked his head and suggested they tour the amphitheater together as a group.

Nine

“I still cannot believe Sir Jonathan Hackberry is in Athens,” Evangeline whispered to her sister as they followed the men toward the Theater of Herodes Atticus.

“You’re beginning to sound like Lady Loxley’s parrot.”

“George,” they said together and laughed.

Evangeline supposed she had been repeating herself a lot since their arrival in Athens, but it truly was a boon to have found a fellow antiquarian with a specialty that fit nicely with her own interests.

“It’s exciting to share thoughts with a like-minded individual,” she said. “Other than Uncle Charles, most men don’t take me seriously. I cannot help thinking that I’m dreaming.”

Regina smirked. “My offer to pinch you still stands.”

“What a peach you are, and again, no thank you.”

Xavier and Sir Jonathan reached the sun-bleached stone stairs and began the descent. Centuries had ravaged the amphitheater, making the path to the stage treacherous. Evangeline admired the way Sir Jonathan navigated the ruins with the confidence and grace of someone who had done it a thousand times.

Regina leaned her head close to Evangeline’s as if trying to view him from the same angle. “The gentleman isn’t what I imagine when I picture an antiquarian,” her sister said. “I thought he would be older and silver-haired.”

“Like Uncle Charles?”

“Maybe.”

Evangeline had believed the same, and she was pleasantly surprised to have been wrong. Uncle Charles had never introduced any of his colleagues to their family. He preferred a reclusive life when he was home. He loved Aunt Beatrice, his nieces, and his godson Crispin. Everyone else could go hang. Was it any wonder Evangeline and her sister thought all antiquarians were distinguished older gentlemen?