Siren's Secret (24 page)

Samuel thought their meal went very well. It was a small festivity for Elizabeth and Nathan, who, while appreciative, also asked for understanding in retiring early.

Samuel couldn’t fault his friend. As it was, Olivia smiled at him entirely too much. He was aching to take her to bed. When she moved about, her gown flowed against her long legs, causing him to imagine all sorts of things that would in all likelihood scare Olivia into spinsterhood permanently.

Alex and Olivia seemed to have worked a few things out between them, but he hesitated to leave them alone. He didn’t want Alex finding out about the symbol on the funerary cone, and he didn’t want Olivia finding out about the matching tattoo on his sister’s neck. The link was too uncanny, and Alex would never leave if she knew Olivia, or anyone else for that matter, was in danger from the prophecy. That said, he knew it was only a matter of time before the discovery was made—if his sister wasn’t already one step ahead of them all.

He had given Worthington a warning while Alex and Olivia were upstairs that they needed to talk. The two planned to meet before the women were about the next morning. He hoped they would be able to figure out what happened to Lord Merryvale before Olivia decided to take matters into her own hands.

That’s when Olivia opened her mouth, revealing she was taking matters into her own hands. “I let the hotel know I was here. There were no messages from my father, but I’m certain he is checking in.” Olivia fixed her skirt as it she had given information of no consequence.

“You what!”

She jumped. “I—”

“I heard you!”

“Don’t shout at me!” Olivia’s voice went up a notch.

Samuel took a deep breath. They had been having an after-dinner drink. Samuel had a plan in place. He didn’t need her bumbling into danger. Didn’t she trust him yet?

He took another breath. He’d upset her. Hell, she was sensitive. He inhaled one more time and released. Sensitive and stupid. His sister smiled in amusement, biting her bottom lip.

“Ollie—”

“Don’t call me that. You have no right to be mad at me.”

“Really? Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Olivia’s back went even more British. It couldn’t be comfortable.

“I see.” Samuel would have to explain things to her. Fortunately, he was a patient man.

“Olivia,
first it’s best to get your bearings in a dangerous situation before announcing your location to the world and making yourself a target for all those people eager to get their hands on you while you are unsuspecting and unprotected.”

“I’m not unsuspecting—”

“Second, in case you have forgotten, there is still a ten-thousand-pound price on your head.”

His sister gasped. Impressed. “What did you do?”

Olivia spun to her innocently. “Nothing!”

Alex smirked. “Oh. A story. I did not take you as an adventuress, Lady Professor.”

“Indeed, I am not!” Olivia sounded insulted.

Samuel grunted. “Could have fooled me.”

Olivia gasped.

“In any case, you don’t know the danger you might be walking into. It would be smart—You do consider yourself a smart woman, don’t you, Olivia?” he asked.

She huffed at him in response.

He continued, “It would be smart if you gathered
some
information before acting impulsively.”

“Impulsively! You insult me? I’m never impulsive! I have done nothing but think through this entire journey. And now that I am here, I have no intention of waiting for your approval before I can act. You’re not the boss here. Or captain of the hotel. Or minister of Alexandria.”

“Indeed, you are not, Stafford,” Worthington added, pulling his wife against him on the settee. “I always thought he was a bit bossy myself, Lady Olivia.”

Alex smirked. “It comes with being the eldest.”

Samuel saw that their support made Olivia even more stubborn. Excellent.

“And one night won’t matter,” Olivia said. “I’m going to go to the tomb site in the morning. If my father is not there, someone will surely be able to tell me where he is.”

“You know the tomb site?” Samuel questioned.

“Of course.”

“And when were you going to tell me?” He reminded himself he was a patient man.

“I didn’t know whether I could trust you yet.”

Samuel’s voice dropped. “You didn’t know whether you could trust me yet?”

“Well!” his sister intervened, instantly. “I’ve been eager to get a tour of the tomb site. Your father promised me himself. How fortunate that we now know where to go.”

“It’s just outside town. Very close,” Olivia said.

Samuel wasn’t done. “I bring you safely to Egypt, comfort you when you are sick, save you from hundreds of marauding, mercenary pirates—”

“I’ve been corresponding with your father,” Alex continued. “But we’ve been here several days and have not seen him yet at the hotel.”

“I did help fight the corsairs,” Olivia chimed, ignoring Alex.

“I didn’t collect ten thousand pounds for your capture, or throw you overboard when you were annoying—which was often, I might add.”

Worthington laughed and Alex nudged him to hold it in.

“But you didn’t know whether you could
trust
me?”

“Yes.” Olivia put her hands on her hips and stepped toe to toe with him.
“Exactly.”

“You didn’t know whether you could
trust
me!”

“You’re verbigerating, Stafford.” She turned to the duke, “That means repeating something over and over.”

Samuel caught the duke’s wink of agreement, while Olivia decided to create some distance between them. A smart move on her part.

“He is indeed verbigerating, Lady Professor. Stafford, you really must stop that,” Worthington insisted.

“Yes,” Olivia agreed, stepping further away from him. “Next you’ll be fulminating—”

“Fulminating is definitely bad,” Alex agreed, as Olivia moved behind her. “Fortunately, Samuel rarely fulminates, Lady Professor. I’m sure you are quite safe. He looks calm indeed.”

Olivia stood behind the settee. “That’s calm?”

Samuel was about to tell her the plan, when she continued. “Look, Stafford, I appreciate that you have delivered me safely here. But here’s the plan: Tomorrow I will get transportation to the excavation site. I will find my father, and if necessary I will give them the inscription from the artifact.” She tilted her head at him. “No need to give them the artifact if it’s not really necessary. Don’t you agree?”

“What is the artifact?” Alex inquired.

“Nothing. A stone,” Samuel said.

“Not just a stone!” Olivia turned to his sister to elaborate on her favorite topic. “A funerary cone for one of the librarians of the Great Library of Alexandria!”

Alex sat up. “You know for certain that it’s a librarian?”

Samuel tensed. His sister definitely knew something she wasn’t sharing. He saw the duke’s eyes narrow as well.

“I would greatly enjoy seeing this artifact, Lady Olivia.” Alex stood. “Do you have it hidden away, safe?”

“Yes, actually. But I can get it now.” Olivia was already walking to the door.

“It’s late,” Samuel said. “Plenty of time tomorrow.”

“Not if we are going to the excavation site,” Alex said. “We are not letting you go alone,” she told Olivia. “That’s just madness.”

“Quite right,” the duke agreed.

“And since this stone is something my brother does not want me to see, I must surely see it.” His sister frowned at him. “I,
too,
like to be informed.”

Olivia looked at Stafford, curious. He was hiding something from his sister. And his sister was hiding something from the duke and her brother. Strange. Interesting. Confusing. Olivia made a decision to get whatever it was out into the open.

“But …” Her Grace paused, worried, and they all looked at her as she fell deep in thought, the concern on her face apparent. “Do you think there will be any killing? You know I don’t kill people anymore,” she reminded the men.

Olivia swallowed, horrified. “You don’t
kill
people?”

Then to Olivia’s further horror, she saw that the duchess misunderstood her worry.

“Trust me. It’s better that way. But we should be as prepared as possible.”

“I concur, Your Grace.” Olivia said. “I will get the artifact.” She looked over at the sound of Stafford’s pained sigh. He was raking his hair again. “You can’t have
everything
your way, Stafford.”

“I can try.”

She laughed. “I’ll be right back.”

Olivia raced up the hotel stairs to her chamber. She had to pass Elizabeth and Nathan’s room on the way. At the sound of laughter, she stopped. It was Elizabeth. Olivia frowned. Her friend had always been full of gentle smiles and good humor, but rarely if ever could Olivia recall her laughing. Olivia jumped back when the next sound was Elizabeth’s squeak of surprise. How curious. Was married life fun? She stepped closer. Her friend was laughing again, but this time it was huskier, becoming breathless. She thought she heard a deep
I love you.
Nathan again. What an annoying man. “I love you,” he repeated.

Suddenly Olivia realized her ear was crushed against the door. She backed away and shook it off. Laughing in bed. Very odd.

Returning to her task, she retrieved the artifact, and hearing moans from the chamber next door, hurried back downstairs. She was breathless and hot when she arrived.

“Everything all right, Ollie?” Stafford asked.

She nodded, wanting nothing more than to fan herself. “Yes. I’m fine.” She unwrapped the artifact from her clothing and held it for the duchess. “The front end here, where it’s widest, is the name of the person buried in the tomb, along with a bit of pomp and circumstance about their role and importance in the world. It was found facing out this way”—she demonstrated—“and fit into the wall at the entrance of the particular tomb, which is actually within a much larger burial chamber.”

Olivia indicated the name piece. The duchess touched it, fascinated, while Olivia read to her the inscription she’d translated. She paused when the duchess looked with astonishment at her, and then at her brother, as if to confirm.

“You understand the hieroglyphics!” she said.

“Yes, assuming my translation is correct. It seems to make sense—to me at least. It was quite easy, actually …”

The duchess turned white for the second time that night, reaching out to Olivia as if to protect her. “Samuel, she is in great danger. They will need her to decipher whatever is in the tomb.”

“Well, they can’t kill me.” Then Olivia remembered what the duchess had told her earlier in the evening. She really
didn’t
know how slowly a person could be killed.

Olivia sat immediately. She fought off sudden nausea and continued her description of the stone, turning it around to the star-shaped side and holding it up to the light.

A synchronized gasp emitted from the pair on the settee. They both turned to Samuel, then to her, then back to the stone. It was uncomfortable. And yet comforting. Clearly there was something familiar. New information they could share.

“You recognize this symbol?”

Silence.

Olivia waited. When no one spoke, she did. “The star shape is very unusual for a funerary cone, but the pattern, this symbol inside, I have found in my research. Stafford had some books on the ship about it.”

His sister jolted to look at him. He shrugged. “I was curious.”

“It is often associated with death and rebirth. Or with”—Olivia paused—“myths regarding the god of the underworld. His opposite or complement.”

“Lilith,” the duchess stated.

Olivia nodded, surprised. She supposed she shouldn’t be, considering their strange reaction. But what did they know? And why did they know this odd piece of history?

“Do you know Lord Heatherly of the British Museum?” the duchess asked.

“Yes. He is an acquaintance.”

“He told me this symbol represents Lilith. Though she is known by other names in other cultures. There is an ancient myth …”

“Yes?” Olivia didn’t know the specific myths. It wasn’t in any research Stafford had.

Stafford’s sister glanced at her scowling husband before sharing. “Lilith divided her realm between her two daughters, only one became greedy and tried to conquer the other,” the duchess told her. “Despite her best efforts, she could not succeed, and just when it looked like she might lose, it is said she asked the god of the underworld for help. He did help, giving her the ability to command the seas and thus conquer her sister. She became queen, and her empire is said to have extended beyond any in recorded or known history, with wealth beyond imagination.”

“That is the story outside the tomb,” said Olivia. To Stafford, “Why did you not tell me when I shared it with you?”

“I figured the fewer people who know, the better.”

“That is very closed-minded of you. Surely no one thinks this story is real and poses any threat?” Olivia said. “If there had been such an empire, there would be evidence of it.”

“Not unless it was destroyed.”

“Uh-huh.” Olivia was not convinced. “How?”

“The queen had to sacrifice her first child to the god as payment for his help.”

“Ah. And did she?”

“Of course not. She took her sister’s firstborn and tossed the child off the cliff at the altar to the underworld,” the duchess explained, as if personally outraged.

Olivia absorbed this. “Devious … but brilliant. Except that in most mythologies, mortals are severely punished for tricking the gods.”

“Exactly!” the duchess said. “Here is where the myth varies. Some say the devil, or whoever the god of the underworld was in this myth, rose up and destroyed the queen. Others say Lilith returned, was furious about the turn of events, and sang a song to the seas that made them rise up and destroy all, save for a few survivors to tell the tale.”

Olivia leaned forward, staring at the artifact. “That’s the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard. Why would she destroy all her work? And what does any of that have to do with this?”

Three voices informed her of the connection.

“Treasure,” Samuel offered.

“Power,” the duke said.