A Curse of the Heart

He was not sure how long he’d stood there, lost in a dream-like state, when he heard someone approach from behind and felt a light tap on the shoulder.

“I see you still have a morbid fascination with the dead.”

Gabriel straightened and turned to see the familiar face of Lucas Dempsey. “And you’re still creeping up on people,” he replied as he removed his spectacles and brushed his hair from his brow. “As you’re so light on your feet, perhaps you could use your talent to help me steal this. It is almost impossible to study it with all this noise and disruption, and I cannot persuade Banbury to part with it.”

Lucas Dempsey shook his head. “This is a ball, Gabriel. There must be fifty ladies eager to get their hands on such a virile specimen. You should be dancing, not hunched over some ancient scroll.”

“You know I’m not the sort to waste my time on such frivolities.”

Gabriel examined Dempsey’s countenance: his puffed out chest, his chin held high and his determined gaze. This was not a chance meeting of old friends. Lucas Dempsey wanted something, and it was only a matter of time before he asked for it.

“What if I could persuade Banbury to give you more time to study the parchment? What if I could arrange for you to spend a whole day locked away in here?”

Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat at the prospect, but he narrowed his gaze. “And why would you do that? What would you have me do in return?”

As expected, Lucas Dempsey came straight to the point. “I would have you speak with Miss Linwood. She has a problem at her museum and believes you are the only person who can help.”

Were there no depths to how low Miss Linwood would stoop?

“I do not have time for fakes and frauds.”

The fact she had thrown herself on his front steps conveyed a complete disregard for appropriate modes of conduct. It seemed anyone could open a museum and claim to have ancient relics. It took years of study to gain the knowledge needed to identify forgeries. No doubt the lady had been duped into purchasing crates of old junk.

“Everyone knows the lady is a charlatan,” Gabriel continued.

Dempsey was too busy looking at his pocket watch to show any interest in his opinion of Miss Linwood.

“That is a shame,” he said. “Well, as much as I enjoy discussing your interest in antiquities, I have an urgent desire to stroll around the garden. I’m afraid it cannot wait.”

When Dempsey excused himself and walked towards the door, Gabriel’s palms began to itch, and his fingers throbbed. Dempsey only wanted him to talk to the lady. A brief conversation was the only thing required to gain more time to study Becanus’ theory on hieroglyphics. It would also give him an opportunity to confirm his suspicions, a chance to prove that Miss Linwood knew as much about ancient Egypt as he knew about petticoats and pins.

“Very well. I’ll speak to your Miss Linwood, but nothing more. In return, I want two whole days with no disruptions.”

“Done,” Dempsey said and then gave a little chuckle. “Well, there’s no time like the present. I believe you’ll find the lady in the ballroom.”

Gabriel did not want to leave the parchment, the voice in his head telling him it would only take one more glance to commit it to memory. Like an addict in need of opium, he scoured the images: the eye, the vulture, the snake, and then another thought struck him, forcing him to straighten.

What if Lucas Dempsey changed his mind?

Perhaps he should go and find Miss Linwood, hear what she had to say and be done with it. As a gentleman, Dempsey would have no choice but to fulfill his part of the bargain.

The lure of having two days to study in peace dragged him from the room towards the sound of music and laughter. It was not difficult to find her. He had watched her sitting on his front steps and had no problem picking her out.

Miss Linwood shone like a bright beacon in the crowded ballroom. Her figure was tall and lithe, her narrow waist curving up into a generous bosom. Her emerald-green gown highlighted the stark contrast of her fiery copper curls. There was something regal about her countenance, something proud and noble — and he groaned inwardly. He would need to be firm with her. He would listen to her plea, feign interest and then make his apology.

Of course, she would have no choice but to accept it, once he had shamed her with his little test.

She turned to her companion a

nd laughed, her mouth curling into a tempting smile, her eyes shining with amusement. The brilliance of it all hit him so hard in the chest, he was forced to take a breath.

Damn it.

He did not need this sort of distraction.

Thank God the lady was a charlatan and a fraud.

Rebecca noticed him standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the space. She had seen the same disapproving stare this morning, the same irritated glare. Only now, it appeared he was trying to attract her attention. The gentleman confirmed her suspicion when he raised his hand and beckoned her to follow him.