"Margaret is the daughter of a very respectable family."

"Emily, what Americans consider acceptable is often questionable at best. Miss Seward's influence on you is distressing. She is taking you down a path that can lead to no good. You have been attending lectures, child. Have you lost all sense of decorum?"

"My behavior is not so bad as you suggest, Mother," I snapped. "I have, perhaps, not always done the right thing but in general am above reproach. If you have difficulty understanding my need for an intellectual life, then I am very sorry for you. One would hope that one's own mother might offer support rather than relishing the role of critic."

"Emily, if I am more critical of you than others, it is only to protect you." She sighed and pulled her gloves back on. "It would be for the best if you were to spend the fall with your father and me in Kent. You clearly are floundering on your own. I can give you no more time today, child. Mrs. Dunleigh is expecting me. Her daughter does not share your lack of interest in the married state."

I did not respond to this, nor did I wait until she left to return to my seat at Philip's desk, furious. I would never marry again after having been so completely deceived by Philip. My thoughts turned once more to Mr. Attewater and the museum. Why on earth had Philip done it? If only he were alive, I could have barged into his library and demanded an explanation, knowing quite well he would be unable to offer anything satisfactory. He would have been shocked to hear me shout at him and most likely would have ordered me upstairs until I could control my emotions. I would have refused, of course, and implored him to remember his morals, his values, and to become again the man we both knew him to be. This would move him greatly; he might even break down and confess that he himself was plagued by his actions and did not know what to do. I would have told him that, maybe, I could find it in my heart to forgive him if he were willing to return everything to the museum. He would have thanked me profusely and congratulated himself on finding such a wife. I sighed. Beastly of him to have died before I had the chance to orchestrate a happy ending.


Ivy appeared on my doorstep the next day, earlier than I could have hoped. She was not surprised to hear confirmation of our suspicions; we both knew it was unlikely that there could be any other explanation. We settled into chairs in the library to discuss how we should proceed.

"Are you absolutely certain that Mr. Attewater will give you no further information?" Ivy asked.

"He was very clear on that point," I replied. "I suppose we cannot expect more of him."

"Well, at least we know that Philip did not contact him directly and arrange for the copies to be made. I'm inclined to believe that he heard of the availability of the pieces and snatched them up."

"Perhaps," I said. "But either way Philip did something both illegal and immoral."

"Have you told Margaret yet?"

"I saw her last night and expect her here at any moment."

Ivy paused. "This must be very difficult for you, Emily."

"To put it mildly," I said, and told her about Andrew's proposal and my mother's visit.

"I do not envy you your mother," Ivy said. "Thank goodness you do not have to live in her house. How did you ever manage to survive all those years? Philip clearly deserves our sympathy, if only because he removed you from an unbearable living situation."

"Yes," I said wryly. "Which would put us back to where we were before Philip became interesting."

"Except that you are in love with him now," Ivy said, the slightest hint of a question in her voice.

"Unfortunately so," I admitted.

Margaret arrived, and we all rehashed what we knew, to little result.

"Terrible that it's too early in the day for port." Ivy sighed, glancing at the clock.

"Do you think that Cécile can be of further help to us?" Margaret asked.

"I have already written to her, asking her opinion. In the meantime I thought that perhaps I could do something similar to what she did in Paris: let it be known that I am in the market for black-market antiquities."

"Do you really think that would be a good idea?" Ivy asked.

"It's an excellent idea, Emily!" Margaret cried. "You must let me assist you."

Before I could reply, Davis announced Colin Hargreaves.

Ivy gasped when she saw him. "Has he grown more handsome since Paris, do you think?" she whispered while Margaret smiled.

After a brief exchange of the required pleasantries, Colin turned to me. "Please forgive my frankness, Lady Ashton, but I do not know any other way to broach this delicate subject with you." I closed my eyes, irrationally certain that he had somehow heard about my refusal of Andrew's proposal. I couldn't imagine what he would say to me on such a topic. I was, however, completely incorrect. "I understand that you met with Mr. Aldwin Attewater in the British Museum. Is this true?"

"Yes," I answered, remembering our conversation in Paris concerning Mr. Attewater.

"I hope you do not mind my speaking freely in front of your friends?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Hargreaves. Say what you came to say," I snapped.

"I had hoped that, upon reflection, you would heed the advice I gave you in Paris. I see that is not the case. Suffice it to say, Emily, that some very undesirable parties have noticed your acquaintance with Mr. Attewater. You appear to be seeking some sort of information from him, and I cannot say strongly enough that you should abandon doing so immediately."

"Really, Mr. Hargreaves?" I asked, not looking at him as I spoke. "Why is that?"

"I am not at liberty to speak further on the subject. Believe me when I say I would never want any harm to come to you and would not issue such a warning lightly."

"Good heavens, Mr. Hargreaves!" Ivy exclaimed. "A warning? I cannot imagine what you mean. Emily's interest in the British Museum could not be more innocent. She hired Mr. Attewater to make a statue for her. Where is the harm in that?"

"In theory there should be none," Colin said. "Please, Emily"-he looked into my eyes-"promise me that you will make no further inquiries."

"I will promise no such thing." I rose from my chair. "You have given me no reason to."

"I ask that you trust me as a friend," he replied, his eyes never leaving mine. "It's more important than you can possibly imagine, Emily. Please."

"I shall take the matter under advisement, Mr. Hargreaves. If there is nothing further, my friends and I were in the midst of a rather important discussion."

"I apologize for the interruption." He stopped partway out of the room and came back to me, reaching for my hand. "Emily, if I could tell you more, I would. You must trust me." He kissed my hand and departed.

"What an interesting man," Ivy said.

"More interesting than either of you know." I told them about the glove. "I see no reason at all to trust him."

"When I think of Andrew telling you to stay away from Colin, I get chills down my spine." Ivy shuddered as she spoke. "Do you think Andrew knows anything of this?"

"He may have surmised that something funny was going on. Andrew is very perceptive when it comes to anything that could be remotely related to gossip. Despite his faults, he is very straightforward. Had he any idea of the specifics of this situation, I have no doubt that he would have told me."

"Do you think Colin is

behind the forgeries?" Ivy asked.

"I don't know, but I have every intention of finding out," I said.


3 OCTOBER 1887

GRAND HÔTEL D'ANGLETERRE, ATHENS


Vardakas's collection frankly stunned me. Hardly know what to think and have no intention of writing about it.

Letter from K arrived today. Unfortunately bland, as they usually are, but can expect little else until she knows me better. Agreed to ride on the fox hunt with me-sure to be a capital day. Did not reprimand me for going ahead with plans for safari-said she had no objection to me spending April away, so long as I return to London before the wedding. I will have a most understanding wife.

My Achilles-Alexander project is progressing nicely, although have not written as much as I would have liked. Too distracted, I suppose. This will change once back on Santorini.

21

"Look at this," I said, handing a note to Ivy the next morning at breakfast. "Arthur Palmer has proposed to Arabella."

"Your mother must be pleased." Ivy smiled.

"Exceedingly." I pushed the rest of the mail away from me and turned my focus to Colin. "I am wondering at Colin's motive for befriending me after Philip's death. I suppose he wanted to keep an eye on me. He sent the man with the scar to follow me. That would explain why he made no attempt to pursue him that day in Paris."

"Do you think he had something to do with the break-in at the Meurice? Didn't he send you a note that very afternoon telling you he was leaving Paris?" Ivy asked.

"Yes, he did," I answered. "Trying to establish an alibi, I imagine. Why do you suppose he would have broken into my room?"

"Nothing was taken," Ivy began, "but I cannot imagine what he would have been looking for."

"I have found nothing in Philip's papers that could be related to any of this. Yet I must be close to discovering something if Colin feels the need to warn me. Perhaps it is time to talk to Mr. Attewater again."