A Daring Passion

“I presume that you managed to find your way through the desert?”

“We made camp in sight of the pyramids. Your father suspected that there were many more tombs spread beneath the endless sea of sand. And he was right.”

“You found the tombs?”

He shrugged. “A few, but they had all been disturbed centuries before.”

“Grave robbers?”

Mirabeau gave a sharp nod. “In most cases we found nothing more than scattered bones and broken pottery. Certainly not the rich bounty we had been hoping for.”

Philippe smiled wryly. “Nor the glory my father so desires.”

“Precisely.”

There was a brief silence as Philippe mulled over the grudging confessio

n. He was far more interested in what Mirabeau was attempting to avoid revealing than what he was saying.

“Obviously you did at last discover a tomb that could offer a bounty beyond your dreams,” he said. Even he could rarely view his father’s Egyptian collection without catching his breath in wonder.

It was more than the golden relics and gem-encrusted jewelry. There was quite simply an ageless beauty to be discovered among the statues and vases and exotically decorated sarcophagi.

“In a manner of speaking,” Mirabeau said vaguely.

Philippe hissed out an impatient breath. He did not have the time for this nonsense.

“Enough of your hedging. Simply tell me what happened,” he commanded.

The pale eyes flashed with annoyance at Philippe’s biting tone, but thankfully he seemed to realize that he would eventually have to admit the truth of what had occurred in the desert of Egypt.

“Your father was becoming infuriated by our lack of success. He had devoted all his resources to this trip and he swore he would not return without something to show for his investment,” he muttered. “That was when he began to notice that Seurat was sneaking away from the camp late at night and not returning until early the next morning.”

“Did my father confront him?”

“Non. He suspected that Seurat was performing his own dig. And that the servant had managed to stumble over a find.”

Philippe stilled, his instincts tingling as he realized he was about to learn the truth his father had kept long hidden.

“One far richer than your own?”

Mirabeau released a soft sigh. “It was…astonishing. I have never seen such treasures. A prince’s tomb entirely intact. You cannot imagine how rare and wonderful that is.”

“Wonderful enough to steal it from Seurat?”

With an effort Mirabeau struggled from the chair, his face flushed with outrage. “It was not stealing. Seurat was a paid servant who was there to be our guide. He should have come to us the moment he suspected he had uncovered a tomb. That was his duty.”

Philippe heard Raine gasp behind him, but he never allowed his gaze to shift from Mirabeau. He had always suspected there had been some nefarious dealings during his father’s trip to Egypt. Not only had Louis been strangely reluctant to speak of his spectacular discovery, but he kept his bounty under tight lock and key rather than flaunting it for all the world to see.

“And instead he intended to plunder the goods beneath your very noses?”

Mirabeau’s flush darkened. “Ungrateful wretch.”

“What did my father do?”

“What any gentleman would do. He claimed the find as his own and we divided the profits accordingly.”

There was another strangled sound from Raine. She clearly did not appreciate the notion of droit de signor.