“The duke maintains he stole an artifact out from under his nose.”
“Do we believe him?”
“It’s possible. But it’s just as likely Fairweather was simply faster.”
“Egyptian piece?”
“No one can remember,” Persephone said when they both looked in her direction. “Sumerian? Pompei possibly?”
“The city where that volcano hardened all those people to ash?” Priya asked.
“The very one.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You antiquarians are rather ghoulish.”
As she wasn’t particularly wrong, Persephone didn’t bother to argue.
“Are any of these gentlemen so obsessed with Egypt that they would stoop to treason?”
“Yes,” Persephone said. “I’m afraid so. But then on paper, so am I.”
Priya snorted. Persephone caught the very pointed look she sent her brother. “You suspected me!” Persephone realized.
Conall’s cheeks went ruddy. “Not entirely.”
Priya rolled her eyes.
“You investigated me,” Persephone clarified from that reaction.
“I had to.”
He looked abysmally uncomfortable. It was strangely endearing. She might have teased him further if Henry’s life wasn’t depending on the very dogged, stubbornness that had made him add her name to his list. She could appreciate that kind of thoroughness. Especially when it might save her friend. And had already saved her own life.
“Never mind,” she said. “You were only doing your duty.”
“Well, that was no fun at all,” Priya muttered. “You didn’t even make him sweat.”
Something about the way he glanced at her from the corner of her eye made her struggle not to blush. He was remembering when she had, indeed, made him sweat. And now she was too. She cleared her throat. “I wish we had more to go on.”
“I’ve gone further with less,” he assured her. “We will figure it out.”
“And if I can ferret out that Fairweather has a secret passageway and two secret rooms in his house, surely I can find out something incriminating. It’s only three men, after all,” Priya said dismissively.
“And the festival starts tomorrow with a series of lectures on Sixth Dynasty Egypt,” Persephone said. “It will attract the Egyptologists in particular.”
Conall glanced at the tall clock in the corner, with brass hedgehogs for hands. “Forgive me, ladies. I have a previous engagement.” He bowed. “Percy, don’t you dare leave this house without me.”
She tilted her head. “John is at hand, should I need to.”
“No,” he said very decisively. “It’s not safe.” His eyes burned into hers before he turned on his heel and left. He fair smoldered. She felt like patting the hem of her dress to be sure she wasn’t on fire.
“Oh yes,” Priya remarked, dry as toasted bread. “Definitely just a sham betrothal.”
“It is.”
“Mm-hmm.” Priya set down her teacup. “I’m worried about Meg.”
“Are you? She is looking a little peaky.” Were her friends in danger even now? Would it be safer to tell them or keep them in the dark? A headache throbbed in her left temple.