Читать книгу Awakening The Shy Miss - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 13

Chapter Five

The walk back to Andrew’s was...different. For once, it was silent. Usually, most of their walks were filled with Andrew’s talk. Andrew liked to think out loud. Normally, Dimitri didn’t mind. Today, however, Andrew was silent except for the occasional swish of his walking stick cutting through the high grass in the meadow. Dimitri opted to wait. When Andrew was done processing he would talk.

‘What happened back there?’ Andrew gave the grass a hard thwack with his stick. Apparently, he was done processing. ‘For a moment, I thought we were going to quarrel over Evie Milham.’ He said the last as if the notion was insane. Dimitri didn’t think it was in the least preposterous. Didn’t Andrew see it? The beauty beneath the simple attire and the simple hair; the devotion she was waiting to lavish on him? As for himself, he was thinking far too much about that hidden beauty. When she’d spoken of tapestries and stitchery, he’d wanted to take her hair down pin by pin, pull it loose from its tight coiffure and spread it through his fingers like so much embroidery silk.

‘I was unaware there was anything to quarrel about.’ Dimitri shot Andrew a wry smile. ‘She is quite solidly yours by her own design.’ Perhaps Andrew needed a little push in Evie’s direction, something to drag him out of his oblivion. Maybe he could help with that. Maybe Evie could use some help with that. She was making it too easy for Andrew, catering to his every whim. Andrew would never respect a woman like that. He would, however, use that woman. Dimitri’s stomach gave a small twist. He hardly knew her, but it sat poorly with him to think of Evie Milham being used in that manner.

Andrew lifted a brow. ‘Do I sense a wager coming on? There was a time when you could turn a lowly country girl’s head like that!’ He snapped his fingers and tossed a smug grin at Dimitri. ‘Or, are you losing your touch? I admit I have a head start. She’s known me her entire life. But you’re a prince,’ he goaded. ‘Surely that evens the playing field.’

‘Those games are fine with ladies of the court,’ Dimitri offered warily. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of pushing Andrew towards Evie any more. Last night, it had seemed like the right thing to do, a way to help out Miss Milham. His stomach twisted again. ‘I think those games are rather cruel, however, when played with unsuspecting country ladies.’ Dimitri’s stomach twisted harder, more violently than before. This time he didn’t think it had anything to do with Evie and everything to do with seed cakes. Too many seed cakes.

All things in moderation, his old nyanya had told him more than once growing up, always after he’d over-indulged. Some day he’d learn, but apparently not today. His covert eating contest with Andrew had been petty. From the hitch in Andrew’s step, it looked like he might be feeling the effects as well. They’d behaved childishly and they’d got their just desserts in the most literal way possible. Andrew let out a burp and a sigh that set them both to laughing. ‘That’s better.’

The tension between them eased and Andrew slung an arm about his shoulders, having already forgotten Evie Milham and his silly wager. It was for the best. Dimitri knew he certainly had no business involving himself in careless games regarding a young woman’s affections. There could be no entanglements for him. He would be returning to Kuban. Taking Andrew’s wager would require deliberately breaking an unsuspecting girl’s heart. The best he could do for her would be to help her understand her own value, to see her own beauty. She didn’t need to settle for a man like Andrew.

Dimitri shot a sideways glance at Andrew, only half-listening to a story about Evie’s seed cakes. Andrew was golden and laughing in the sun. It was easy to see why Evie would be taken with him. But Andrew was also entirely self-absorbed. Even now, with just the two of them present, he was ‘performing’ the story for an audience. Usually, Dimitri was impressed with Andrew’s showmanship. On the road, Andrew’s glib tongue had talked them into a few prime situations such as the dig in Greece. But here in England, his ‘showmanship’ seemed rehearsed to the point of narcissism. It reaffirmed Dimitri’s premise: There was no doubt Miss Milham would be good for his sometimes high-handed and arrogant new friend. She would love him in spite of himself, and, given time, perhaps she would help him see what was truly important in life. But at what cost to herself? The real question to ask was: Was Andrew good for Evie?

Dimitri laughed out loud at the direction of his thoughts. Andrew would think the laughter was for the story. In reality Dimitri was laughing at himself. Who was he to decide their future, or even be interested in it? He hardly knew Evie Milham and he’d barely known Andrew for a year. He had no business interfering. Aside from his curiosity over the quiet Miss Milham with her russet hair and her hidden hobbies, he wasn’t even sure what had sparked his attentions in the first place. Maybe it was a sign after all that he was ready to return to Kuban, settle down and live the life he’d been destined for since birth, the life his family needed him to live.

Perhaps it was for the best he felt that way, since his return, even his marriage, was inevitable. Dimitri shook his head to clear his thoughts. He wouldn’t think of that, not yet. There was still some time left to him. He needed to focus on the immediate future first. What came next would take care of itself. Until then, he had one last excavation to oversee and to enjoy.

* * *

The excavation site was bustling with organised activity when Evie and her father arrived the next morning. The scale of that activity was quite impressive. Workers, hired from local labour, hauled carts of rocks and debris away, others whisked dust from slabs to see what was hidden beneath, while still others were engaged in the process of sifting rubble through sieves searching for shards of artefacts. The industry was punctuated by an occasional shout—some of them in Russian, a reminder that not all the effort on site was local.

‘The Prince has brought his own team,’ her father commented as they picked their way through the site, trying to stay out of the way. ‘He’s very methodical, very efficient. He’ll have his men oversee various aspects of the project so he doesn’t have to train new foremen.’ It was a reminder of what she’d forgotten so easily yesterday. Dimitri Petrovich was a prince, a man who was used to being served, used to commanding and directing others. Travelling with a retinue was to be expected.

From across the site, Dimitri waved to them, beckoning them over. ‘Ah, there he is,’ her father remarked with a chuckle. ‘Good thing he spotted us. I might not have recognised him today.’ Evie privately disagreed. Dimitri might be dressed like everyone else in durable trousers tucked into dusty boots and a loose cotton shirt of off-white homespun, the clothes of a labourer, not a prince, but she’d know him anywhere. He couldn’t disguise those cheekbones or those eyes.

‘Sir Hollis, Miss Milham, welcome!’ He strode towards them, stripping off working gloves as he greeted them. His shirt was open at the neck, showing a patch of tanned skin, and already splotched with sweat and dirt. He’d not only been working, he’d been working hard.

‘You must pardon my appearance; we have great hopes for today. We’re excavating the dining room, or what we hope is the dining room.’ He smiled broadly and his enthusiasm was infectious. ‘Let me show you. We have something of a map to work from.’ He led them over to a table set off to the side, an informal work station where papers were weighted down with rocks.

He picked up a book and turned to a well-marked page. ‘There’s a two-page description of a villa that matches this one in location and there’s a reference to a west-facing dining area to catch the setting sun. If we’re right, we’ve found the villa of General Lucius Artorious.’ The air around him fairly crackled with his excitement and Evie felt her own excitement rise, stoked to its own height by the prospect of the project and by his nearness.

He passed the book to her father. ‘The account is short, but it’s very detailed. It even names some specific items that were in the home. If we could find them, it would ensure the authenticity of the site.’ He smiled at Evie. ‘We’ve already found some items—nothing that’s listed, of course, but items that suggest a man of social standing and his family were here. Are you ready to draw? I have a workspace set up for you in the cataloguing department.’ His wink was just for her. ‘We use the term “department” very loosely here. I hope our working conditions aren’t too rustic for you, just canvas and some tables, but my assistant, Stefon, is brilliant and he can show you anything you need.’ Some of her excitement defused. An assistant, of course. It wasn’t as if the Prince could work privately with her. It was probably for the best. However would she concentrate on drawing if he was hovering nearby with his smiles and touches? She really had to get over this silliness.

He took them through the site, gesturing to points of interest as they went. ‘To the left are the cooking facilities. We feed the workers three meals a day. To the right is the “museum” where we keep the items that are already catalogued.’ The site was truly impressive. This place was a little self-contained city. She’d not realised all the services necessary to support such a project. He made an off-hand motion to the left. ‘That tent out there is my private quarters.’

Tent? Evie stopped to gape. It looked more like a pavilion. It was big and white, and set back from the site, perhaps for privacy. ‘You live out here?’ She quickened her step to keep up with her father and the Prince.

The Prince nodded. ‘It’s a necessity. One must be vigilant or sites like this are easily vandalised. I’ve found there’s nothing like human presence to deter unwanted attentions.’ He threw an entirely manly glance at her father. ‘It helps that I’m a pretty good shot.’ The two of them laughed together. They seemed to have established an instant rapport that transcended their stations.

Vandalism? She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact the Prince was camping like a soldier on campaign. No matter how large the tent, outdoor living required a certain amount of concessions, especially if a man was used to living amid royal luxuries.

‘This is your workspace, Miss Milham.’ The Prince ushered her under a wide triangular expanse of heavy canvas tied between three trees. Beneath it sat desks and tables with boxes next to them, writing and drawing supplies on them. One other clerk was already busy at work. The Prince held out her chair. ‘The items to draw are here in this box. There are notes attached, I can’t guarantee all the handwriting is legible. The information will have to be recopied with the drawings and we’ll need three copies of each drawing.’

Evie nodded, sitting down in the chair and taking in her workspace, her mind already organising the task in her head. She was eager to begin. This was no different than the work she did for her father. She surveyed the supplies, assuring the Prince she had all she needed.

‘Very well, I will leave you to it, Miss Milham. Again, let me tell you how very grateful I am to have someone of your skills assisting on the project.’ He turned to her father. ‘If I might borrow your expertise as well, Sir Hollis? I have a few questions.’ She watched them go with a smile. When Dimitri had visited, Evie had worried her family would be too casual for him, but now that she’d witnessed on two occasions just how hard he worked to put others at ease, to help them forget he was a prince, she was glad for her father’s easy-going nature. Dimitri seemed to like that her father extended that easy companionship to him. Her father enjoyed a quiet life and offered his hospitality and friendship to all those around him regardless of status. It seemed Dimitri responded to that. Just as she’d responded to his genuine appreciation of her work. Evie shook her head as if to refocus her thoughts. She needed to prove herself, she needed to show Dimitri his confidence in her hadn’t been misplaced. She couldn’t do that if she spent the day staring after him.

It only took a few minutes to become entirely immersed in the task. There were pencils to sharpen and the pages of fresh journals to cut. Then all was ready. Evie took a deep breath. This was peaceful work, work that was both useful and relaxing. She could lose herself in the drawing just as she did with sewing, her mind absorbed by the process of bringing something to life with a stitch of thread, the shading of a pencil. The first item was a jewelled comb. Evie laid it on her table and began.

Sketching in the morning was pleasant. There was a light breeze that filtered in regularly, enough to keep the workspace cool without ruffling the papers. Drawing in the afternoon, however, was less pleasant. The breeze had stopped and the heat had increased. So too had the flies. Nothing horrendous, she told herself, swiping at the pesky fly for the hundredth time, merely inconvenient. This wasn’t the desert after all. And she had only to look across the work site to appreciate the comforts of her space. Out in the direct August sun, men laboured with carts and rocks, brushing, sifting, hauling, while they strained and sweated, the Prince among them. Archaeology was dirty labour. His hair had come loose, his shirt untucked. He didn’t look terribly royal at the moment, just a man. Perhaps that was why he liked his work so much...

‘Evie!’ A shadow fell across her table, startling her. ‘What are you doing here? I would have thought you’d have left by now.’ Andrew moved some papers aside so he could sit on the table’s edge.

‘Careful! The ink isn’t quite dry!’ she squawked, appalled at his thoughtlessness.

Andrew jumped up and stepped back, glancing down at his trousers. ‘Thanks for the warning, I wouldn’t have wanted to stain these trousers. They’re new.’

‘I was thinking about the paintings,’ Evie said crossly, still alarmed at how close she’d come to losing the afternoon’s work to a careless gesture. ‘They took hours to complete.’ His trousers! Hah! The drawings were much more important. Andrew had at least twenty pairs of trousers. The man was a clotheshorse. Usually she admired that.

‘Why, Evie,’ Andrew drawled, looking at her with more careful consideration than he’d given the drawings. ‘I do believe you’re put out with me.’ A boyish grin teased at his mouth and he looked devilishly handsome in his clean, creased buff trousers and coat of blue summer superfine.

He looked immaculate and cool, not a speck of dust on him. Quite the opposite of herself. Suddenly self-conscious, Evie pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, hoping she didn’t look as hot as she felt. Of course Andrew would see her now when she wasn’t looking her best or apparently acting it.

She really had behaved like a shrew and to Andrew of all people. Surely that wasn’t how one got a man’s attention. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that these drawings are one of a kind and they took hours.’ Andrew wasn’t an artist. He couldn’t be expected to appreciate things like wet ink.

Andrew studied the drawings, seeing them for the first time. He held a few of them up, while she cringed and hoped they’d dried sufficiently to be touched without smudging. ‘Evie, these are good, really good.’

‘Thank you.’ She could feel herself blush. When had Andrew ever complimented her? This was a first.

‘We should be thanking you.’ Andrew put the drawings back down on the pile. ‘Dimitri will be pleased. Speaking of which, did he find anything of interest today?’ He gave her a wide smile, his blue eyes twinkling.

‘Nothing from the dining room yet, they’re still working.’

‘That’s too bad. I know he has high hopes for it.’ Andrew reached for the box of catalogued artefacts. ‘What’s in here?’

‘There is a jewelled comb.’ Evie flipped through the pages of her drawings. ‘It was the first one I did today.’ She handed it to Andrew, pleased that his eyes lit up. She’d thought it the best she’d done all day. It had been a challenge to portray the tiny pieces of emerald that were still embedded on the comb’s edge.

‘Lovely. Museums are always interested in pieces like this.’ Andrew considered the drawing thoughtfully. ‘Where’s the comb itself?’

‘It’s already been taken over to the “museum”.’ Evie gestured towards the canvas collection centre, where Dimitri planned to store the artefacts.

‘Hmm.’ Andrew muttered more to himself. ‘Do you think you could make me a copy of the drawing? I’d love to have it for myself, a souvenir of this project.’

‘I’ll do it tomorrow.’ Evie beamed, pleased.

The Prince strode up and Andrew stepped away from the table. ‘Ah, there you are. It’s about time you showed up now that it’s nearly supper,’ the Prince joked, slapping Andrew on the back before turning to more serious business. ‘How did it go today? Were you able to secure the supplies we need?’

‘Yes. Your small army of workers will have food, starting tomorrow. Plenty of vegetables, just how you like,’ Andrew assured him. He winked at Evie and explained. ‘While you have all been playing in the dirt here today, I’ve been in negotiations for food supplies.’ He picked up a drawing. ‘Evie has outdone herself on these.’ He handed one to the Prince and Evie found herself anxious. It was rather disconcerting to have someone look over her work right in front of her. She would have preferred Dimitri look at her work privately once she was home. She hardly dared to breathe while she waited for him to pass judgement.

‘Excellent,’ the Prince declared with a smile. ‘You’ve earned the right to go home.’ He shot a glance at Andrew. ‘Perhaps you might be so good as to escort her home?’ Her heart began to pound. This was almost too good to be true; Andrew had acknowledged her talent and now he was going to drive her home. So why was she spending more time staring at Dimitri, who was hot, dirty and tired from a day’s hard work, when there was immaculate, charming Andrew to stare at?

‘I would like nothing better.’ Andrew offered her his arm, drawing her attention through the effort. ‘I am parked just over here, Evie.’

‘Miss Milham,’ the Prince called after them, ‘we’ll see you in the morning?’ He had the manners to make it a question, not a command.

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Evie called back, cheerfully. Today had been one of the best days she’d had in a long while and that wasn’t even counting the carriage ride to come.