To Surrender to a Rogue (6 page)

Her throat tightened.

Besides, it would take more than a bubbling thermal spring to wash away the ills that plagued her.

"How fortunate that you were free to join our committee on such short notice, Lord James."

Mr. Dwight-Davis straightened from his welcoming bow. A noted authority on the life of the emperor Augustus, the elderly scholar was a short, stout man whose rather odd outward appearance mirrored his inner zeal for the subject. His thinning white hair was styled
a la Brutus,
and despite the warmth of the room, he wore a long cloak artfully draped over one shoulder, the Imperial purple superfine wool falling in toga-like folds across his evening coat

"Jupiter must be keeping a watchful eye on our endeavor," continued Dwight-Davis with a broad smile. "And has decided to give it his blessing."

"We all know that the gods can be fickle" murmured Jack. "So let us not tempt fate by speaking too quickly of good fortune. You have yet to quiz me on my expertise. You may find yourself sadly disappointed."

"Nonsense, sir! Lord Fanning sent me a selection of your essays and sketches. I consider us lucky indeed to have such a knowledgeable scholar on classical architecture appear, as it were, from out of the woodwork." Dwight-Davis chuckled at his own witticism. "Fanning's absence left a large hole in the excavation team. As I mentioned, we took great pains to include an expert in every aspect of ancient Roman history—mosaics, sculpture, numismatics..."

He gave an apologetic cough. "Er, sorry. As Horace said,
Quid quid praecipies, esto brevis
—whatever you want to teach, be brief. As you see, my enthusiasm for the subject sometimes leads me to rattle on like a loose screw."

"Facile remedium est ubertati, sterilia nullo labore vincuntur,"
replied Jack, handing over his hat and walking stick to a footman. "According to ancient philosopher Quintilian, exuberance is easily corrected, dullness is incurable."

"Ah, so a thorough knowledge of Latin is also one of your skills!" His host's smile stretched even wider. "Excellent! I see you have no need for my prosy lectures."

"On the contrary," said Jack. "I have much to learn about the proper methods of conducting an archaeological excavation, so I welcome all advice."

"My first words of wisdom are that you must be careful to whom you admit that, sir," warned Dwight-Davis. "We have a few gentlemen who will talk well into the next century if given the slightest encouragement."

"Ah." Jack smoothed a wrinkle from his lapel. "Then I shall try not to wear my ignorance on my sleeve."

The other man let out a genial laugh. "I can already tell by the cut of your cloth that you will fit in quite splendidly, sir. Now, come this way to the drawing room, Lord James, and let me introduce you to some of your new colleagues before the Italian contingent makes its entrance."

Jack crossed the entrance hall, admiring the proportions of the arched ceiling and graceful marble columns flanking the curved staircase. Several wall niches held fragments of Roman sculpture and bronzework. He would have liked to linger over the artifacts but Dwight-Davis quickened his steps, clearly anxious to rejoin the party.

The rumble of voices, punctuated by a higher octave of clinking crystal, could be heard already. Jack repressed a smile. He had noticed early on that rigorous intellectual discussion seemed to require copious lubrication. In fact, the scholars he had met so far could drink his old army regiment under the table.

The room was quite crowded, and as Jack looked around, he saw no one he knew. That was not surprising, of course. He was a mere neophyte and these august gentlemen were...

Was that aflutter of emerald skirts amid all the masculine coats and trousers?

Jack looked back at the punch table, but the only sight that greeted his gaze was a quartet of freshly shaven faces, laughing together over some joke.

A figment of his imagination.
Brought on, no doubt, by too many hours spent brooding over his recent encounters with Alessandra della Giamatti. It had been a long drive from London in his curricle, with no books or sketchpads to divert his thoughts from the tedium of the road. He ought to have left his piqued pride in Town—along with the lady herself. And yet, Jack couldn't seem to banish her from his mind.

"Haverstick, stop fussing with the roses and come meet Lord James, who is standing in for Lord Fanning.'
^,
Dwight-Davis beckoned to a man who was busy rearranging the flowers in a large marble urn.

"Servants have no eye for symmetry," grumbled the man as he tweaked the last stem into place. "James, you say?" His bushy brows drew together. "Hmmph. Never heard of him. What's he written?"

"Nothing to speak of," replied Jack, accepting a glass from one of the passing footmen. He was glad to see it was real champagne, and not the foul-tasting mineral water that many called 'Bath champagne.'

"Lord James is the youngest son of the Duke of Ledyard," explained Dwight-Davis. "And a promising scholar—"

"Ah, now I place you," interrupted Haverstick. "The war hero."

Jack shrugged off the sobriquet. "Hardly. Like many of my fellow soldiers, I was simply doing my duty."

Raising his quizzing glass, Haverstick subjected him to a lengthy scrutiny. "I suppose if we dig up any ghosts of ancient centurions, you might come in handy. Do you know how to handle a
pilum
or
pugio?”

"m theory," replied Jack without hesitation. "My actual battlefield experience is confined to sabers and firearms, but I daresay I could learn rather quickly to use a legionnaire's spear or dagger."

"That's the spirit," said Dwight-Davis. To Haverstick, he added, "I think you will be quite satisfied with Lord James's mettle as a scholar. And his drawing skills are superb."

"Hmmph." Haverstick smoothed the folds of his cravat. "Well, don't expect to pull rank here, young man," he warned. "You will be starting out as a foot soldier and will be required to work in the trenches."

"Nothing will please me more," said Jack. "I am here to learn."

Haverstick gave a curt nod, then turned away to follow two footmen who were carrying in the bottles of Chianti for a welcoming display in honor of the Italian delegation. "Now don't forget—arrange the wine in two precise rows, with the garland of thyme running straight down the center of the table..."

"He may appear a little abrasive," murmured Dwight-Davis as the directives trailed off. "But don't be intimidated, Lord James. He's like that with everyone."

"I am not easily intimidated," replied Jack. "My military experience has taught me how to stand my ground in the face of enemy fire."

"Right I keep forgetting that you bring a rather, er, unique set of skills to our little band of scholars." Dwight-Davis cleared his throat and then lowered his voice. "But I hope you will not think of Haverstick as the enemy. As president of the Bath Society of Roman Antiquities, he is the overall head of the excavation, and so controls the assignment of tasks."

In other words, don't cross swords with the pompous
prig.

Jack heaved an inward sigh. Dueling for power and prestige was apparently just as prevalent among intellectuals as it was among soldiers. "A wise soldier always makes an effort to get along with his commanding officer," he said in answer to the oblique warning.

"Enough said then." Dwight-Davis looked relieved to change the subject After a quick gulp of his wine, he glanced over the display of flowers. "Ah, there is Knightley, head of the Mosaics Committee. His book on the Roman Baths of Britannia will be published next month and is a fascinating work. Come, you will enjoy meeting him."

Alessandra ducked into the alcove, grateful that her arrival had gone unnoticed by Dwight-Davis. He was a very nice gentleman, and extremely open-minded concerning the intellectual abilities of women. But in his enthusiasm for the subject of archaeology, he sometimes turned... over exuberant

She sighed. He would insist on making her the center of attention, and though his gallantries were well-meaning, she much preferred to be singled out for her scholarship rather than her sex.

Looking around, she spotted several fellow members from the London chapter of the Society of Roman Antiquities standing nearby. As Mr. Knightley, the mosaics expert, glanced up and met her gaze, he excused himself from the group and came over to greet her.

"Lady Giamatti, I must say, I found your recent essay in the
Journal of Ancient Antiquities
very interesting."

Alessandra breathed a silent sigh of relief. Of all her colleagues, Knightley was the one who always treated her like an equal.

"I hear you have devised a new system for methodical digging," he went on. "You must tell me all about it..."

The head of the Mosaics Committee had his back turned and appeared to be in deep conversation with someone standing in one of the recessed alcoves.

"Perhaps we ought to wait until later, rather than interrupt," suggested Jack, loath to appear too presumptuous. As the son of a duke—no matter that he was merely the youngest of five—he was often treated with great deference. Society seemed to think that his family name entitled him to assume the trappings of power, prestige, and privilege.

He felt his jaw tighten. In truth, he had always preferred to earn respect on his own merits.

"No, no." Waving off Jack's words, Dwight-Davis started around the marble urn. "I assure you that Knightley and whoever he is with will be delighted at the opportunity to welcome our newest member."

As his host now had firm hold of his elbow, Jack had no choice but to follow.

"Knightley, allow me to introduce you to the gentleman who has so kindly agreed to step in for Lord Fanning."

The man turned, revealing his companion in conversation.

Somehow, Jack managed to mask his shock.

"Ah! Lady Giamatti! I did not see you come in," exclaimed Dwight-Davis. "I wasn't sure whether to expect you. How marvelous that you arrived in time to attend the reception."

Bloody hell. The ancient gods had turned even more malicious in their mischief.

"Your countrymen would have been greatly disappointed at your absence," went on Dwight-Davis. He chuckled. "As would all the other gentlemen in the room"

Alessandra acknowledged the compliment with a polite smile. After a fraction of a pause, she said, "How flattering to hear that my professional expertise would be so sorely missed."

"Er, yes, indeed it would be." Taking the hint, Dwight-Davis quickly assumed an expression of great seriousness. "We have the highest opinion of your intellect"

"Indeed," echoed Knightley. "Lady Giamatti was just explaining to me a new system she has devised for excavating in an orderly and precise fashion. It involves a mathematical grid, and..." He looked at Alessandra. "But I daresay I shall let you explain it I have no head for complex numbers or geometry."

"Before we dig into the subject of archaeology, let us finish the introductions," said Dwight-Davis. "Lady Alessandra, allow me to present Lord James—"

"We are acquainted," she said, taking care to avoid any eye contact

"Only slightly," amended Jack, matching her cool tone. "We have several mutual friends."

"Excellent, excellent" Dwight-Davis seemed unaware of the tension crackling through the air. "By Jove, what a fortuitous act of the gods that you find yourselves working together here in Bath."

Jack would have chosen several other adjectives, none of which a gentleman was allowed to say in front of a lady.

Dwight-Davis turned to Knightley and went through the same ritual of introduction. At least Jack assumed that was what his host was saying. His attention was on Alessandra. A sidelong glance showed that she still had not looked his way.

"So, Lord James, since you are stepping in for Fanning, I take it your expertise is in classical architecture?" asked Knightley.

Jack forced his gaze back to the other man. "I have some knowledge in the subject," he replied. "I trust I shall not disgrace myself."

Alessandra moved out of the shadows, the glittering light of the candelabra flickering over her smooth, sculpted face.

The other two men stared for an instant, their gazes drawn to her classical beauty like moths to a flame. Jack felt his own eyes linger in admiration. She reminded him of a bust of Venus that he had seen at the Villa Adriana in Tivoli.
A pale, polished, perfect piece of marble.

And yet, despite her facade of stony reserve, he found the sight stirred a sudden recollection of her mouth, lush and liquid against his.

"Remind me again, Lord James," she asked slowly. "What other excavations have you taken part in?"

"This is the first, Lady Giamatti," replied Jack.

"Ah." The sound hung for a moment in the air. "I suppose that the duke is a generous benefactor of Tanning's Julius Caesar Society."

Jack felt himself stiffen, but refrained from showing his irritation. "My father supports a number of worthy institutions that appeal to him. But antiquities is not his field of interest—it is mine."

"And very glad we all are of it," exclaimed Dwight-Davis. "Lord James has visited a number of ancient sites throughout Italy, and I am sure he will prove a very quick study in the field."