Chapter Twenty-Eight
London, March 1893
“Come now, Alexandra. It’s not so bad. Soon, this will all be over.”
Restlessly covering the distance from wall-to-wall with measured steps, Alex paced the length of a closet-sized office in the lecture hall. She slowed her steps just enough to glare at her friend. It was bad enough that the tiny space did not afford room to properly pace and thereby burn off some of the nervous energy that plagued her. But Sophie’s relentless cheer seemed like nails scraping on a chalkboard.
Sophie meant well. Alex did not doubt that. She’d no cause to be frustrated with her. It wasn’t Sophie’s fault she was in this fix. After all, she’d learned the way to avoid situations like this—in the event of an invitation to speak to a crowd, the word “no” rather than “yes” would have prevented this problem. Pity she hadn’t learned how to say the word when presented with an opportunity to speak at the Royal Symposium for Egyptian Exploration.
At the time it had been offered, the invitation had seemed a grand idea. No one could argue that it was a great honor to be asked to present to the group. Excitement had gotten the better of her. She’d accepted without reservation.
And now, she stood in this tiny room, fighting her fear.
How was it that she’d faced a murderer and lived to talk about it, yet the prospect of delivering a lecture on hieroglyphics left her shaking with apprehension?
She turned to the mirror, adjusting the cameo at her throat for what must have been the twelfth time.
“I’ve never spoken to a crowd this size,” she said, reaching up to tuck a loose tendril of hair into her upswept coiffure. “I suppose it will be better once I get started.”
“Of course it will.” Sophie smiled. “The members of the society will find your lecture quite engaging.”
“I do hope so,” she said.
Nearly an hour later, Alex pulled in a deep breath and finally allowed herself to smile. Her presentation had proceeded without complication. Once she began to speak of Egypt and the meaning behind the symbols that had fascinated her since she was a girl, the talk had flowed naturally, and her nervousness had faded.
Now, as she transitioned into a segment of questions and answers, she felt infinitely more relaxed than she had at the start. Somehow, it seemed far more natural to discuss the members’ inquiries than to lecture.
The first question was interesting enough, regarding the Rosetta Stone and its study. Another member inquired about the comparison and contrast between the ancient civilizations of Sumer and Egypt. More questions flowed, and she engaged the audience in a dialogue. All in all, the evening was turning out to be a rousing success.
“One more question, and then, I will turn the stage over to Sir Archibald Pemfries. He will present a riveting discussion of his journey down the Nile.”
She settled her gaze on a matron seated toward the middle of the rows. Light reflected against the woman’s jeweled hatpin, catching Alex’s attention. And then, a male voice called out, commanding her interest.
“Miss Quinn, I have a question regarding the Egyptian goddess Bastet. Perhaps you will be the one to answer it.”
The statement was innocuous enough. However, the husky timbre of the speaker’s voice was all too familiar. Her heart stuttered. No, it simply wasn’t possible. It was a trick of her hearing, nothing more. Surely, Benedict was not here. Not now. Not as she struggled to shore up her courage and keep her wits together before the attentive crowd.
Sitting at the end of the last row in the back of the lecture hall, he came to his feet. Her gaze lit on his features. Her heart stuttered again. Are my eyes deceiving me?
Benedict made short work of the distance between them with long, sure strides. “I’ll come to you, Miss Quinn. You see, my question cannot be answered if you cannot look upon the object.”
“Very well,” she said, gulping a quick breath. What in blazes was he up to? What was the meaning of this?
He mounted the steps to the stage. Attired in a well-tailored tweed jacket in shades of tan, brown, and black, sable brown trousers, and a crisp white shirt, he’d carelessly looped a forest green tie around his throat. She bit back a smile, seeing how its knot sat slightly askew. Rather typical, that. The man had never given a fig about the smaller details of his appearance. The colors in his jacket brought out the bronze in his skin, while the tie highlighted the greens in his hazel irises.
His expression was somber as he came to her. What the devil was he thinking, interrupting her lecture this way?
“Lord Marlsbrook, what an unexpected pleasure,” she said, steadying her voice.
“Miss Quinn, I find myself in need of your expertise.” He sounded so very serious, yet his eyes flashed with something that looked as though he was teasing her.
She struggled to maintain her composure. The nerves were back, and with a vengeance. “What question might I answer?”
He produced a small enameled box. “I am confident you will be able to identify this artifact.”
“Very well.”
She opened the box. Nestled against the velvet lining, a golden figure of a woman with the head of a cat gazed up at her with vivid green eyes.
Good heavens. The Amulet of Bastet.
“I’ve been told this dates to the eighteenth dynasty. I would like your opinion.”
She nodded. “Yes, I do believe that would be correct.”
He displayed the relic for the crowd. A collective gasp went up among the members. Benedict turned to the crowd.
“I came upon this amulet in the Nile Valley. Based on its markings, are you able to identify it?”
“Of course,” she said, examining the statue. “It represents the goddess Bastet.”
“The cat goddess,” a matron in the front row added, her voice brimming with excitement.
“Quite so,” Alex replied.
“Miss Quinn, I find myself faced with a dilemma. This is a treasure. I do not believe anyone in this room would argue against that point. But I am unsure as to the best course of action regarding its preservation.”
Everyone in the room seemed to be staring at the amulet, but Alex could not take her eyes off of him. What was happening here? What in blazes did he intend to do?
“I believe I have previously communicated my opinion on that, Lord Marlsbrook.”
“As a matter of fact, I am quite positive you did.” A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I would entrust this artifact to you. I am confident you will see to its protection and display.”
He nestled the amulet against the plush lining in the box and placed the small container in her hands. She looked down. Good heavens, her fingers were trembling.
“Thank you.” She choked back a swell of emotion. The golden cat would have added considerable wealth to his estate. And now, he’d publicly given it away. “On behalf of the society, I offer my heartfelt thanks. I will see to it that this artifact is entrusted to the care of the proper experts.”
“Very good,” he said. His long fingers raked through his hair. Suddenly, he looked as though the nerves that had afflicted her were contagious.
Rising from his seat in the front row, Professor Stanwyck came to the stage. “I’ll take that,” he said, reaching for the amulet. “I believe you have better things to attend to.”
Alex studied his face, seeing the genuine smile in his eyes. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”
“You will, Miss Quinn,” Stanwyck said as he moved to the back of the stage, exiting behind a heavy curtain.
The members in the audience had grown unusually quiet, appearing to follow along as if they were viewing a stage play. Alex swallowed hard against a fresh surge of nerves.
“Well, then, thank you, Lord Marlsbrook.” She wrung her fingers together. “This has been…most interesting.”
Benedict’s face fell back into a somber expression. “Is that all you have to say, Miss Quinn?”
She gave a brisk nod. “At the moment, it’s all that comes to mind.”
“Miss Quinn, it occurs to me that I have one more question.”
She dragged in a low breath, as if that might slow her pulse back to normal.
“Lord Marlsbrook, we must keep in mind that Sir Archibald is waiting to present his lecture. I should not like to impose upon his scheduled time.”
“Think nothing of it, Miss Quinn,” Sir Archibald said from the side of the stage.
Well, she’d gotten no help from that quarter, had she? Bracing herself, she turned her full attention to Benedict.
“Miss Quinn, I shall endeavor to make this brief. I’ve come here to extend a proposal.”
Her lower lip trembled. If only she had some notion of what he was about to do, she might not feel as if her knees were going to knock beneath her layers of skirts like an overenthusiastic percussionist.
“Perhaps…perhaps we might discuss this after Sir Archibald presents his lecture.”
Benedict shook his head, determination darkening his eyes. “No, I want everyone to hear this. You see, Miss Quinn, I’ve come upon a remarkable awakening. Remarkable for me, at least. Others were not so hardheaded and did not require years to come to their senses.”
“I am afraid I still do not understand.” She pulled at her tight collar, loosening the scratchy lace against her throat as she turned to the audience. Seated in the front row, her sister was smiling.
And yet, Alex felt as though the air was being sucked from the room. The walls seemed to close in on her.
“As Stanwyck said, you will.” Benedict grinned.
Sudden understanding washed over her. To extend a proposal.
Good heavens, he could not possibly intend to ask her to marry him. Here, of all places. After walking away from her a second time.
No, this could not be.
“During my latest sojourn to Egypt, I had occasion to conclude that in this life, there are many forms of treasure. Some, like the Amulet of Bastet, may be held in the palm of your hand, or may fill a monarch’s vault. But others are intangible, impossible to quantify in value—but perhaps, these are the most valuable treasures of all.”
Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she blinked them back. The unspent emotion seared the back of her throat.
“Quite so,” she managed, little more than a whisper.
Sudden panic filled her. Her breaths came in little pants. He caught her hands in his.
“Alexandra, are you unwell?”
She nodded. “I am so very sorry, Benedict. I cannot do this.”
Pressing her hand to her mouth, she darted from the stage. Brushing past Sir Archibald, she offered her apologies for stepping on his toes, then rushed away to the cramped office that had been her haven before the lecture.
Jennie stood by the door. “Sophie showed me a faster route,” she explained with a wan little smile. “Alex, what has come over you?”
“What do you think has come over me?” Alex said, still attempting to fully understand what had just happened. “Did you know what he was planning to do?”
Jennie’s moment of hesitation provided her answer. “Yes—and no,” she said finally. “Sophie mentioned that Benedict wished to surprise you, but I did not know he intended to do so here tonight. I do not believe that Sophie and Gavin were aware he intended to be so…public about his demonstration of affection.”
“He wished to surprise me, did he? Well, he certainly accomplished that.” Alex sighed. “I suppose I am expected to thank the heavens he’s returned to me. What assurance do I have that he will not leave…again?”
Standing in the doorway, Benedict answered her question.
“I love you, Alexandra. I was a fool.” He made no move to enter the small chamber. “I don’t know how to prove to you that I will never again leave you. I don’t know how to prove I will never hurt you. I don’t know how to reassure you. But I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anything in my life.”
Gaslight fell on his features, emphasizing the hollows in his cheeks, the leanness of his face. His eyes darkened with emotion, and it was all she could do not to run into his arms.
She could not give in.
She would not leave her heart vulnerable. Not this time.
Jennie’s mouth pulled taut. “It’s high time I excuse myself. I believe the two of you could benefit from a spot of privacy.”
Benedict nodded his acknowledgment. “Thank you.”
“You’re a good man, Marlsbrook. I feel it in my bones,” Jennie said. “But I am not the one you need to convince.”
“Understood,” he said.
He entered the room and closed the door behind him. Alex wondered dully if she should be concerned about the propriety of the situation, but she shrugged away the thought. Propriety be damned. This was far more important than the impression some stuffed shirts might have of her.
“I am sorry, Alexandra,” he said, coming to her. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought…I thought I was protecting you, in my own way.”
“Benedict, why are you here?” She swiped a renegade tear from her cheek. “Just when I thought I’d put us behind me.”
“I was a fool. And a coward. I know that now. I want you with me. Forever.”
For so long, she’d yearned to look into his eyes and hear him speak words of love. But now, they brought fear as well as the faint hope of joy. She wanted a life with Benedict. More than anything, she wanted to believe their love would endure.
But how could she be certain?
Was she opening her heart to more pain?
“Tell me why…why now?” she murmured.
He drew her to him. Cupping his hand around the back of her head, he kissed her lightly. The taste of his lips was a delicacy, and she savored it.
He took a step back, clasping her hands. “You, my dear Alexandra, are a treasure worth more than any artifact, more than any jewel in a king’s crown.”
“Oh dear.” Her knees wobbled.
“I know I’ve hurt you. There is no way to change the past. But from this moment forward, I will do everything in my power to justify your faith in me.”
“Benedict, I don’t know—this is so sudden. So very unexpected.”
He slipped a hand in the pocket of his waistcoat. “Alexandra Mary Quinn, I propose a collaboration—one that will last a lifetime.”
“A collaboration?” Goodness, she sounded like a daft parrot.
Slowly, he nodded. And then, he went down on one knee.
“Alexandra, I must ask you a question. I pray you will consider my love for you before you give me your answer.”
“Yes, Benedict—what is your question?” she murmured, seeing the adoration in his eyes. Her heart soared. The most talented thespian could not mimic the tender feeling in his gaze as he looked at her.
He took her left hand in his and slid a golden band adorned with a princess-cut diamond onto the third finger—her ring finger.
“Alexandra Mary Quinn, will you take me as your husband? For better or for worse? Even though I am a fool for having waited so long.”
Joy swelled in her heart. She loved him so very much. With all her heart.
She stared down at the ring on her finger. For so long, she’d dreamed of this moment.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, freeing the strands she’d so carefully pinned in place. Her curls tumbled down around her shoulders, and she smiled as she looked at him. She wanted to memorize everything about this night. Every word. Every nuance of expression. Every emotion in her heart.
“Say you love me, too, Alexandra. Say that you’ll be mine. Until I take my last breath. And beyond.”
“Oh, yes, I do love you. So very much.” She smiled as hot, messy, happy tears streamed down her face. “I will marry you, Benedict. I will be yours forever.”