Gemma stood her booted feet braced against the wind that threatened to knock her over with its force as she waited for some response from the men on the slope. It would be difficult to hold a conversation, it was true, given the sound of the wind, but at least one of them had heard her. She’d seen clearly enough the look of understanding on Cam’s face as he’d turned to her.
“George,” she said to the butler, “come with me. We must get my skull away from them.”
“But Miss Hastings,” he argued, “I can’t just take it away. They’re gentlemen. And Lord Benedick is there. He’s a vicar. It ain’t—isn’t—right.”
He’d been trying to correct his grammar since rising from footman to butler, and if she weren’t fuming, Gemma would have smiled at the correction. It had taken a month of lessons, but his speech was improving by the minute.
But she was fuming. All because of the gentlemen assembled.
Perhaps excepting Ben, who cared as much for fossils as his wife did.
“George, that is my fossilized skull.” She turned to look him in the eye as she spoke. “I would not mind if Lord Benedick were to take it, because he would most likely give it to me. But the rest are not to be trusted.” She didn’t even bother to mention Lord Cameron because her disappointment in him was keen. She’d thought they’d come to some kind of understanding today. That he’d at long last recognized her as a fellow scientist. But his attitude had been as ephemeral as the waves washing onto the shore beside her.
She almost jumped out of her skin when the man himself appeared beside George.
His approach had been hushed by the wind, she realized.
A glance at him revealed that he’d been just as immersed in the mud on the cliff as the others had been. Even his neckcloth was spattered with the stuff.
“I have tried to convince Sir Everard to give up his claim on the fossil,” he told her without preamble, “but he refuses.”
Ben, looking equally bedraggled, came up beside his brother. “The man is a little unhinged, I’m afraid,” he said in a low voice. “He keeps going on about lizards and Lady Celeste.”
“It is the skull of a marine lizard,” Gemma said with a frown. “Others have been found hereabouts but this one is much larger than any I’ve seen or heard of. Which is why it is so important that I’m able to claim it for my own collection. It is my find.”
“I know how important it is,” Lord Cameron said with more sympathy than Gemma thought he’d offer her. “But, for what it’s worth, I don’t think he’ll be able to shift it out of that mud today. The weather is too damp to get a grip on it and without the proper tools, it will be impossible.”
“Which is why I brought these,” Gemma said raising her case of digging tools.
They turned to look at the slope, and saw Lord Paley throw his hands into the air and began the slow descent down to the rock-covered shore. When he reached their huddle, he too was exasperated. “I tried to convince him that he should leave it to you, Miss Hastings,” he said, frowning as he tightened his muddy scarf around his neck. “But he is like a dog with a … well, a bone, I suppose.”
The play on words made them all laugh, defusing the situation a bit.
They were silent for a few moments as they tried to figure out what to do.
“What if we allow him to think you’ve capitulated?” Cam asked thoughtfully. “He obviously has no intention of leaving the field to you at the moment. But he cannot stay here all night, and he’ll need help to remove it. You can tell him you’ve decided to let him have it. Then once he’s gone, we’ll come back and remove it.”
“I do not like to advocate telling falsehoods,” Ben said his brows drawn, “but in this instance, I think it may be the only way you will get your fossil, Gemma. For it is quite plain that Sir Everard will not give up the field until he’s convinced you won’t take it from him.”
Gemma didn’t like the idea of lying to get what rightfully belonged to her. “How can I be sure he won’t send someone to get it in the meantime?”
“We’ll be going back to Pearson Close with him,” said Lord Paley. “I will ensure that he doesn’t send anyone back. I give you my word.”
“You and I will come at first light to retrieve it,” he said, turning back to her. “Long before Sir Everard has a chance to dispatch anyone or to come here again himself. But you’ll have to leave it for now, if only to prove to Sir Everard now that you’ve given up the fight.”
She looked through the dimming light toward where the baronet still tried to shift the fossil. As if he felt her gaze on him, he looked up then and gave her a defiant stare.
She’d known she disliked him during his visit, but she’d not guessed just how much contempt he felt for her. Clearly his flattery and interest had been a ruse to get close to the collection.
“All right,” she said, finally, turning back to the others. “I’ll do it. Tell him I have no intention of claiming it, and that he may come back tomorrow to get it. But I hope you will be prepared to protect me tomorrow when he discovers it’s gone.”
“The prior claim is yours, Miss Hastings,” Lord Paley assured her. “And besides. Are not ladies allowed the prerogative of changing their minds?”
She didn’t bother to tell him the myriad of ways in which such an assumption made life in male-dominated fields more difficult for ladies.
At this point, she’d fought for her scholarly sisters enough for one day.
“I think it would probably be better if you were not here when we convince him to leave with us.” Cam’s expression was that of a man who knows he will be contradicted.
But Gemma was tired of conflict. “I’ll go back to the house. But I’m trusting you to ensure he doesn’t stay, or find some way to remove the skull before I have a chance to come back.”
“I give you my word,” Cam said, echoing Lord Paley. Despite their previous arguments, Gemma believed him.
“Come, my dear.” Lord Benedick gestured to her. “I’ll escort you back to the house while these two deal with the tantrum Sir Everard is likely to have when they make him depart.”
With one last look over her shoulder to where the baronet stood hunched over the skull, Gemma allowed her brother-in-law to lead her away.
Behind her she heard Lord Cameron say in a low voice, “This might get ugly.”
She didn’t linger to hear how the other man responded.
For the first time in a long while, she let someone else handle things.
* * *
If possible, the carriage ride back to Pearson Close was more uncomfortable than the scene at the cliff had been.
Cam and Paley were silent as Sir Everard raged about their failure to intervene on his behalf. “You may as well have been stone statues,” he said with disgust. “If the skull is gone when I arrive tomorrow, you mark my words, I will sue.”
Mentally, Cam ran through the list of solicitors who might defend Gemma against the baronet’s baseless claims. Because now, more than ever, he intended to remove the fossil and get it into her hands as quickly as possible. Sir Everard was not only a bully, but his determination to effectively rob Gemma of what—whether it was the Beauchamp Lizard or not—by rights belonged to her, or to the Beauchamp House estate, had solidified Cam’s determination to thwart him. Not only was he the worst possible representative of the fossil-collecting community as a whole—and Cam had little doubt he’d use the fossil to puff himself up as far more influential than he actually was—but he was simply a small-minded boor.
Fortunately for Cam and Paley, when they returned to Pearson Close, the baronet chose not to tell all and sundry about his having been thwarted by a scheming harpy (his term) because his fear that someone else would swoop in and take the fossil was greater than his need for consolation. Or maybe, Cam thought cynically, he wasn’t sure which side his fellow collectors would take. Lady Celeste’s reputation had been impeccable among the fossil-collecting community, and there were many among Pearson’s guests who had admired her.
Acquaintance with Sir Everard, however, did much to reveal the illusory nature of his accomplishments.
Mindful that servants’ gossip could ruin the plan to save the fossil from Sir Everard, Cam made his way to the Pearson stables after dinner to request his mount be ready before sunup, and swore the man to secrecy.
Later, as he lay in bed staring up at the damask canopy, he considered the idea of using this time spent with Gemma to assess her as a potential bride.
There was something attractive about the idea of marrying someone who would be able to understand his passion for collecting as well as trying to place the things he found within the scientific history of the earth.
And she was lovely. It would not be a hardship to bed her, of that he was certain.
But it was these things that also made him wary of her.
He’d long ago come to the conclusion that he needed the sort of wife who was affectionate but not particularly dependent on him for her happiness.
When he was a youth he’d seen just how destructive it could be when a husband was distant—or in his father’s case—was unfaithful. He had seen the light go out of his mother’s eyes in the space of a few months. And though she’d seemed to recover later, Cam couldn’t help but feel that it would have been better if the Duke and Duchess of Pemberton had maintained some distance from another from the start. That way his mother would never have had to be hurt at all.
Cam had no intention to commit infidelity, but thought it better, since he was his father’s son, not to put himself in a situation where it would even matter. Unbidden the memory of Gemma’s animation yesterday when she was talking about the collection came to his mind. She was lit from within. So passionate. He simply could not be responsible for snuffing that light.
No matter how much he was drawn to her.
His decision made, he turned on his side and tried to sleep.
* * *
“It simply doesn’t make sense to risk your neck on the cliff stairs when there is a perfectly functional corridor through the wine cellar,” Serena said as she and Gemma breakfasted the next morning at a far earlier hour than was their custom.
Both the chaperone and Sophia had been incensed on Gemma’s behalf the day before when they learned of Sir Everard’s attempt to steal the lizard fossil. Sophia had even offered to come along with her when she returned to retrieve it, but Gemma, knowing just how much her sister detested getting up early, had assured her it would not be necessary.
Serena, however, had at the very least insisted on being there when Gemma set out with Cam, Stephens and the footman Edward.
And true to her word, she had been at the breakfast table when Gemma came down.
Her suggestion that the excavation party should use the secret passageway had been a surprise, however.
Gemma was not particularly fond of enclosed spaces and had not been through the tunnel more than once or twice because of it. “I will give Stephens and Edward, and even Lord Cameron, leave to use the passageway. But I will be using the cliff stairs.”
At Serena’s scowl of frustration, she continued, “Despite the harshness of the wind, the view of the sea as one descends the stairs is one of my favorite things about Beauchamp House’s location. I won’t deny myself unless I absolutely must.”
The chaperone looked as if she’d like to argue further, but perhaps seeing Gemma’s expression, she sighed. “I won’t press the point,” Serena said. “But, I do think it might be easier to remove your bone without being seen by having George and William carry it up through the passageway.”
It was something Gemma hadn’t considered. “That is sensible. Especially considering that Sir Everard may very well arrive while we are there. Cam’s note said that he and Lord Paley were able to convince him to leave it until some of the others from Pearson Close could accompany him and witness his triumph.”
That bit of persuasion had made Gemma laugh aloud since it was perfectly calculated to appeal to the man’s self-regard.
“But,” she continued, “he may very well decide when he awakens this morning that he simply cannot wait.”
Too nervous to eat any more of her eggs, she pushed the plate away and took a last gulp of tea just as Cam entered the breakfast room.
“I thought I’d find you dressed and waiting on the front step for me,” he teased, and Gemma was charmed despite herself.
Once again, he was dressed for warmth as well as style, and his many caped greatcoat, which he hadn’t bothered to remove given they’d be departing soon, had somehow been scrubbed clean of yesterday’s mud. Gemma felt a pang for his poor valet—her own maid had upbraided her roundly last evening when she came in.
“I’ll be only a few moments,” she said rising from the table. “I have to get my gloves but I’ll be right down.”
* * *
Cam watched as she hurried from the room.
He’d only been half-joking.
He really had expected to find her tapping her foot while she waited for him at the door. He supposed he should be relieved that she’d relaxed enough to sit down to breakfast given just how nervous she’d been last evening about leaving her precious skull behind overnight.
Having been forced to wait for help to retrieve his own discoveries before, he could sympathize. It was one of the reasons he’d volunteered to point Sir Everard in the other direction, and to come back and assist her today.
And there was something about Sir Everard that he didn’t trust. It would be just like the fellow to agree to wait until later today, then double back before anyone was the wiser.
Of course, that’s what he and Gemma were doing, but since Gemma was the rightful owner of the skull, theirs was the lesser sin.
“I appreciate the way you’re helping her,” Lady Serena said as she poured him a cup of tea and gestured for him to have a seat.
She was really a stunningly beautiful lady, he thought not for the first time.
It was unfortunate he didn’t feel the same kind of attraction for her as he did for her wholly unsuitable charge.
“I know Gemma appreciates your assistance as well,” Lady Serena continued, breaking him out of his reverie.
He turned his attention to the widow. “Given that Sir Everard wouldn’t have known about the little beach here without my having brought it to his notice,” he said aloud, “it’s the least I could do.”
She nodded, her blue eyes shining with approval. “She will never say it aloud, but your acceptance of her into the scholarly fold, as it were, means the world to her. Gemma is quite proud, but I know she craves what we all want—to be taken seriously.”
He was silent for a moment, trying to figure out whether he should confess that his attitude toward her work had changed.
“I’m ready,” the subject of their discussion said from the doorway.
Cam looked to see if she had overheard any of their conversation but Gemma seemed unaware.
“You’d best be off, then,” Serena said with a smile. “Gemma, dear, be sure to bring Lord Cameron back when you’re finished. We owe him a hot drink and a seat by the fire at the very least.”
“Of course,” the heiress said with a roll of her eyes. “Though I’m quite sure he’s endured far more uncomfortable weather than a Sussex seaside winter.”
After a quick bow to his hostess, Cam offered Gemma his arm and escorted her to where George waited in the entry hall with her coat.
“William and I will be along shortly, Miss Hastings,” said the butler as he allowed Cam to take her fur-lined pelisse from him.
He held it for her as she slid her arms in first one sleeve then the other, resisting the temptation to run his hands over the shoulders to smooth out the fabric. At least, that’s what he told himself was the origin of the impulse.
Her gown today was far less tempting than the blue velvet from the other day—a dark gray wool that had been chosen for warmth and not fashion—but it was becoming and reminded him once again that there was a rather tempting body to go with the sharp mind.
Unaware of her escort’s thoughts, Gemma pulled away as soon as her coat was on and donned her bonnet, speaking to the butler as she did so.
“Now, George, do not forget to bring a litter to assist you with carrying the skull through the tunnel. It’s quite large, and though I do not doubt you’d be able to carry it in your arms, I do not wish you to risk dropping it. It is quite precious and we dare not risk it sustaining any blemishes.”
“Yes, Miss Gemma,” the butler said with a nod. “William has already found the one we used when Miss Ivy was stricken and it will do the trick.”
With one last glance behind her, as if she were afraid of forgetting something, Gemma finally turned to Cam. “Let’s be off then.”
And rather than go out the front door—or the passageway he knew led directly to the shore—she led him toward the first floor and the drawing room with French doors leading into the gardens behind the house.