Wicked

“The fellow must have had some powerful magic, eh?”

Startled, Camille looked up. She hadn’t heard the arrival of Sir Hunter MacDonald. She straightened, aware of her apron and a lock of hair that had escaped her pins. Certainly, her appearance must display a definite dishabille.

Sir Hunter was striking. Tall, well dressed, with rich, dark hair and eyes. She was aware that among the elite he had a reputation for daring, adventure and charm. And naturally, a reputation for attracting feminine enchantment. Though he might have been something of a rake, it did him no ill, for he was neither married nor even engaged. The mamas and papas among the wealthy and equally as elite could reason that such a young man should certainly sow his wild oats. Therefore, he remained prized as a possible catch in the marriage arena.

Camille could well understand his attraction, for he had always been courteous and charming to her. She was no fool, however, and neither did she intend to live the life that had brought her mother to such a tragic and dismal end. With a certain dry humor she could appreciate the fact that she held an appeal to Hunter, as well. She was hardly among the class from which he would choose a wife, but neither was she one he could seduce for the mere value of entertainment. She would not allow it, and had always made that fact perfectly, if tacitly, clear. It did not prevent him from his continued attempts at charm, however, since he was also a man of enough ego to believe that if he really chose, he would eventually have his way.

“Ah, my dear Miss Montgomery!” Hunter continued, coming to her side. “Ever our glorious scholar, beauty hidden away in a tiny room in a musky old smock!” He leaned upon the table, eyes sparkling. “Alas! You must take care, my darling Camille. The years will pass! You will have spent them, becoming steadily more myopic into your old age, forgetting all about the wonders of the modern world.”

She laughed softly. “Ah, wonders such as yourself, Sir Hunter?”

He grinned ruefully. “Well, I would be happy to escort you about London, you know.”

“I fear the scandal,” she told him.

“One must live a bit recklessly.”

“Easy enough for you, Sir Hunter,” she told him primly. “And I love my work! If I’m to grow old, gray and myopic, there is no better place.”

“But the waste of such youth and beauty is a true tragedy!” he told her.

“You’re most charming, and you know it,” she informed him.

His smile faded and he grew serious. “I’m quite concerned.”

“You are? Why?” she inquired.

He came around and stood by her side, and a bit too tenderly smoothed back a stray lock of her hair. “I’ve just heard that you’ve spent an extraordinary evening—and morning.”

“Oh! The accident,” she murmured.

“You slept last night at Castle Carlyle?” he demanded.

“My guardian was hurt. There was no choice.”

“May I speak bluntly, Camille?” he asked, eyes gentle and serious.

“If that’s what you wish.”

“I fear for you! You mustn’t ever be deceived. The Earl of Carlyle is a monster. He chose his mask as close to his heart as he might. Sir John has told me that he brought you into the museum today and is insisting that you attend the fund-raiser on his arm. Camille, he is dangerous.”

She arched a brow. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, Hunter, but aren’t you continually attempting to be just as…dangerous?”

Gravely, he shook his head. “My attempts are merely upon your virtue. The Earl of Carlyle is very nearly insane. I fear for your life and health. Apparently, he has fixated upon you, Camille. You entered his world, where he allows very few these days.” He cleared his throat. “Camille, I’d not hurt your feelings for the world. Surely, though, you are aware that we remain a horribly class-conscious society. There’s rumor, of course, that the earl prowls the alleys of London at night, seeking diverse entertainments, since he no longer appears, scarred and mutilated, in the drawing rooms of the gentle misses he might otherwise have sought. I fear that he is truly toying with you in the most cruel and heinous manner.”

That was exactly what the earl was doing, but hardly in the manner that Sir Hunter imagined.

“Please, don’t worry about me,” she told him. “I’m quite able to handle myself.” She offered him a rueful smile. “Surely you’re aware of that. If I’m not mistaken, sir, you have been trying…well, to bring the wonders of the modern world to my doorstep since I came.”

“I’ve not been a wretch, surely!” he protested.

“No, because I am quite capable of handling myself.”

“I know how to settle this in the most courteous manner!” Hunter exclaimed. “We can say that you had already agreed to come with me.”

“Hunter, how very kind,” she told him, setting an arm on his shoulder, because she did believe that he was concerned. “But think of the scandal. In fact, I imagine that I could be in tremendous danger then, for dozens of highborn ladies would be after my throat if they imagined that a woman such as myself was after you!” She was teasing, but there was a grain of truth to her words.

He took both her hands, his eyes intense as they delved into hers. “Camille, really, it would not be a bad thing to let the Earl of Carlyle believe that there was something quite serious between us. And I am a humble ‘sir.’ He is an earl. A different matter altogether.”

“Hunter, is that a proposal?” she teased.

He hesitated. She withdrew her hands.

“Hunter, please believe me. You have been ever kind to me, and I, like all those others, have not been immune. But, Hunter, if I were to engage in a small liaison with you, I would not be just common, but I believe many a common word would be added when my name was spoken.”

“Ah, Camille, the temptation you stir in my heart to cast all else to the wind…”

“Would be foolish,” she told him firmly. “I believe that I will be quite all right. You, of all men, should be aware that I know my class, my position, and that I therefore avoid anything serious with men of greater means.”

He frowned, still intense. “Camille, you know, you do enchant…and more.”

“Hunter, it is the very fact that I am unattainable that enchants you.”

He shook his head. “No, Camille. You are aware, surely, that you have eyes of magic, green and gold, as alluring as those of a tigress. You are, unless you are without sight and reason, aware that you are graced with a form like many a classic statue that charms every man who enters here. You are alive and vital and intelligent. Yes, you could so beguile a man that he would be willing to do anything to acquire your hand.”

She was startled by the passion of his speech. “You’re implying that I believe I could withhold my company from a man such as the earl and gain…marriage?” she said, somewhat incredulous. She had been touched before but was suddenly angry.

“Camille! Please, I speak out of love. My admiration and care for you are deep, indeed.”

She shook her head. “Hunter—”

“Is that it? Do you want marriage? Camille…yes, I would give you a proposal.”

Again shocked, she said, “Hunter, you would hate me. You would deplore the scandal. And say you were really willing to cast sanity to the wind and marry me. In no time, I would no longer be so charming, because I would no longer be unattainable.”

“Camille, you wound me.”

“Hunter, you are worrying where you need not,” she assured him.

“Is that the game you think you could play with Lord Stirling? After all, he is an earl, and even kings have married commoners. But, Camille, you must remember the fate of a certain commoner who married a king.”

“Hunter—”

“History, my dear girl, history! Think of Anne Boleyn. She forced Henry’s hand by being unattainable. And when he was ready to move on, she lost her head!”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Hunter, I swear, I should be deeply, deeply offended. Indeed, if I were a fine young lady, raised to the best finishing schools, I think I should be required to slap you quite hard. But I’m afraid I lost my parents at far too early an age to have attended such a school, and as a mere commoner with an incredible thirst for knowledge, I believe I’m allowed to refrain from violence!”

“You’re laughing at me, and I’m sincere.”

“Oh, Hunter, this is terribly sweet of you. But, no, I’d never marry you—not that you aren’t handsome and charming and so kind to even make such a suggestion.”

“Am I not in the least seductive?” he demanded.

“Far too seductive, and truly kind with your proposal. Which I know you can’t really mean.” When he started to protest, she raised a hand to stop him and continued. “Please, Hunter! I don’t want you to believe that you’ve made an offer, and that, by honor, you can’t renege. Seriously, I do know that you would wind up despising me. And in the same vein the Earl of Carlyle cannot seduce me, because I do have one of those qualities you afforded me—intelligence. I’ll be fine. I’m staying at the castle until I can safely move my guardian. I will attend the fund-raiser because I believe that he feels he can enter such a gathering, masked as he must be due to his scars, quite safely with a museum employee at his side. We will be here, Hunter, right here in the museum, and I will be surrounded by you, Alex and Sir John. And Lord Wimbly, of course, a protector of equal peerage.”

The door opened again before Hunter could reply.

“Camille! I just heard that—” Alex Mittleman began. He stopped abruptly, seeing that she already had company in the small workroom. “Hunter,” he said.

“Alex.”

Alex, a slighter man and appearing more so since his hair was flaxen and his eyes were powder blue, coloring that gave him the appearance more of a handsome youth than of a mature man, flashed a frown in Camille’s direction. The two men usually respected one another, though Alex complained often enough that Hunter was too much a rich dandy and not nearly enough a true scholar. Alex also considered himself a far more appropriate confidant for Camille, since he was more of an honest workingman. Just as she was an honest workingwoman.

Alex cleared his throat, then gave his head a little shake, as if deciding he might as well speak, since Hunter was apparently aware of the subject he meant to bring up. Hunter beat him to it.

“You arrived here this morning with Brian Stirling, the Earl of Carlyle?”

She sighed softly. “Tristan had an accident last night near the earl’s gates. He was taken into the castle because he was injured. As it happens, he was shaken and bruised, yet suffered no worse trauma. Naturally, I went to his side. And so…well, there it is.”

Both men stared at her, then at one another.

“Have you told her that he’s…”

“A dangerous man and perhaps not fully sane,” Hunter finished. “Not so bluntly until this exact minute, but, yes, I’ve tried to get that across.”

“Camille, you really must be very careful around him,” Alex said, still frowning. He looked very worried. “I’m rather shocked to say that Sir John is…well, frankly, pleased!”

“The Earl of Carlyle is a wealthy man,” Hunter said harshly. “His grounds abound with treasures Sir John would love to see in the museum.”

Alex swallowed suddenly. “I will go with you, Camille. I will go with you when the workday is over. We can hire a carriage and get your guardian home safely—”

“Alex, I certainly am better fixed to arrange a carriage, since I do have my own,” Hunter interrupted firmly. “But you are right. We must get Camille and her guardian home quickly and safely, and away from that dreadful castle.”

She watched the two of them, amazed. It wasn’t that they hadn’t shown her kindness or friendship before, but now they were truly vying for her attention. And both seemed most eager to get her away from Carlyle Castle.

Alex lifted his chin slightly, as if willing to be self-sacrificing for her greater good. “Fine. Hunter has his own carriage. However you are rescued from that dastardly place will suffice, as long as you are rescued.”

“Alex, Hunter,” she said softly, but before she could continue, the door burst open again.

Aubrey Sizemore had arrived. He was the last of the division’s main employees, a man who was not quite so knowledgeable, yet, despite his lack of education on the subject, passionate about Egyptology, and he was certainly hardworking and determined. He was a large fellow of perhaps thirtysomething years, bald as a billiard ball and well muscled. He could easily move the heaviest boxes, yet had an incredibly gentle touch when it came to the finer and more delicate parts of excavation.

He stared at Camille as though she were an artifact that had suddenly proven to be the most bizarre find of the century.

“You came here with the Earl of Carlyle?” he demanded.

She sighed, weary of explaining, and said simply, “Yes.”

“So he’s out of the castle again!”

“Yes, so it seems.”

“Well!” he said. “Well, good. We should have a great deal more money pouring in if he has come to acceptance. Indeed! He could plan a new excavation. There is nothing like real work, you know, in the desert sands.”

“He isn’t planning any expeditions as of yet,” Hunter said sharply.

“But…” Aubrey murmured, watching Camille.

“Is there something else you wanted, Aubrey?” Hunter asked.

Aubrey scowled. “That old fellow, the stooped gray-beard we just acquired from Asian Antiquities. Have you seen him?”

They all looked at him blankly. “That fellow. He’s been working for us now a few hours here and there. Arboc, that’s his name! Old Jim Arboc, have you seen him?”

“No, we haven’t seen him,” Hunter said irritably. He didn’t like Aubrey, but Aubrey had all the right assets to work in the department—raw muscle definitely being one of them.

“I’ve told Sir John time and time again that we must have a fellow in full time!” Aubrey said. “I don’t mind the labor, it’s the sweeping up that must be done. It’s time-consuming!”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t waste so much time,” Hunter suggested.

Aubrey almost growled in his direction, but smiled at Camille. “Excellent work, Camille, bringing back such an illustrious patron! Even if he has acquired something of an evil reputation. Perhaps the fellow is cursed.” He winked at her, then went on out.

As he did so, Sir John arrived. “Whatever is going on in here?” he demanded, a rough, impatient note in his voice. “Alex, I believe that Camille is quite capable of working on this relief herself. Hunter, you may be a board member, but your role is not to take up the time of my employees. Lord Wimbly is on his way in, and I will not have my department appearing to be busy with nothing more than an afternoon tea social!”

Alex stiffened. Hunter shrugged laconically. “Camille, we’ll speak later,” he said, and strode toward the door. He opened it, ready to saunter out. But he paused.

Looking back, dark eyes raking quickly over the three of them, then landing on Camille, he said, “It appears that someone else is coming…for tea.”

“Who?” Alex demanded.

“Brian Stirling, the Earl of Carlyle,” Hunter said, his eyes resting on Camille. “We must, indeed, beware, for the monster comes this way!”

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