The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons (60 page)

“My… my… my apologies, Miss Davidson,” he stammered. “This is my first week working here, and I didn’t realize… I mean I didn’t recognize… I will personally pull the materials you’ve requested, and they will be waiting for you when the doors open on the morrow.” He picked up and set down several of the items on the counter as if he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands.

“That will be fine, thank you.” She smiled at him, fully aware of the tidal force of her Uncle Gus’s personality.

Uncle Gus took her arm, tucked it through his, and started walking toward the reading room, heedless of the protocol to be quiet in the library. “What are you doing here anyway, girl? Shouldn’t you be riding in Central Park or shopping or letting some swain squire you around? I thought your mother was bound and determined that this was going to be the year somebody snatched you up.”

“She is. It’s been a fairly constant parade of young men for the last year, but now she’s really putting the pressure on. I’ve got three weeks to come up with someone on my own, or she’s going to narrow the field to one or two that I have to choose from.” Ally set her portfolio on one of the long tables. “I’ve been hiding in the museum for the most part. But your new exhibit coming up has piqued my curiosity about Egypt. I’ve come here to read up on the subject a bit more.”

He shook his large head. “Child, you won’t find a man in here, and you won’t find one at all if you insist on stuffing your head with too much book-learning. Don’t you know that sort of thing puts a man off?” He winked at her.

Her hands fisted. “Why is it that society women are supposed to be empty-headed and meek around men? Why can’t we be smart and adventurous? Why can’t we explore our interests, even if others deem them to be less than ladylike?” Her arms flew wide. “That notion is as antiquated as the pharaohs.”

Uncle Gus grabbed her hands, chuckling. “You’re still the same little firebrand, aren’t you? I’m just telling you what men expect. They want something decorative, domestic, and demure. Until you can harness some of that passion, you’re going to be a tough sell for your mama.”

“Humph. I don’t see why I can’t just be myself. If I’m interested in something, why can’t I pursue it? If I want to travel and learn and do something with my life other than everlasting soirees and garden parties and shopping trips, why can’t I?” She released her hands from his grasp and crossed her arms. “If a man can’t accept me the way I am, then I don’t want him, that’s what.”

He patted her shoulder. “I always knew it would take someone mighty special to handle you, and you’re right, Ally, you shouldn’t have to hide who you are in order to please a man. But if you stick to your guns, you’re going to be climbing a steep hill. You’ll need a good man to help you.”

“What if I think I’ve found him?” Ally bit her lower lip. It was the first time she’d voiced the notion aloud.

“What? Who?”

A blush climbed her cheeks, and she regretted saying anything. “No, not yet. It’s still too new, and he hasn’t said anything to me that makes me think he’s thinking along those lines. Just forget I mentioned it.”

He chucked her under the chin. “All right, but I want to meet this fellow before you get too serious. It’s my job as your godfather.”

She hesitated, wondering if he’d already met Max. Max must work for this Mr. Kirkland fellow, probably on his staff in Egypt as well as here. She’d dearly love to get Uncle Gus’s thoughts on the assistant curator, but when it came down to it, she couldn’t share his name. It was still too new, too precious, too full of possibility to risk letting anyone else in. In the end, she shrugged. “I should scoot home. Mother’s having guests in tonight, and I can’t be late. If I don’t see you before, then I’ll see you at the opening of the new gallery. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Especially since Max would be there.

“What do you think of our offer?” The chairman leaned back in his overstuffed leather chair, his eyes piercing as a falcon-headed Horus. “It’s more than generous, I think you’ll agree. Any archaeologist and scholar would jump at the chance, I would think.”

Several of the board members nodded. The only one who scowled was Yoakum, staring at the blotter before him.

Max pushed his glasses up, trying to cover his confusion. “Two years?”

“At least, possibly as many as five. I have a feeling you will be much in demand as the discoverer of the tomb. Every college and civic league and women’s institute will be clamoring for an appearance by you. I understand your speaking engagements here in the city have stretched out through the summer already.”

“Yes sir, they have. But what about my work in Egypt?”

The chairman clasped his hands and rested them on his blotter. “Forget that. The opportunity is here and now. The museum needs you on the staff to curate the objects that will be flowing in from all over the Middle East as we fund new digs there. I’ve walked through the Meryet-Kai exhibit, and it’s unlike anything we’ve ever had on display before. Innovative and interesting. That’s your doing, your design talents, and your knowledge of both the artifacts and museum patrons. Frankly, we think you’re more valuable here than digging in the sand in Africa.”

The finance director tapped the table. “And that’s not all. We’re in negotiations with several museums around the country at the moment. Chicago, St. Louis, New Orleans, San Francisco. We’d like to take a portion of the artifacts on the road, as it were, and create a traveling exhibit. That means we have to have someone the Department of Antiquities and Director Loret trusts to oversee the artifacts in transit and to curate the exhibits in their temporary homes. We will, of course, be splitting the profits, sending some of the money back to Egypt and keeping most of the gate receipts for ourselves. It will create funding for more exploration into ancient civilizations.”

The room seemed to close in around Max. The chairman was right. It was an offer most men would leap at. The money was better than good, and the opportunity to educate the nation on Egyptology and influence an entire new generation of archaeologists was staggering, not to mention the personal recognition, but all he could think about was one thing. If he stayed in the States, he would be able to see Ally. Perhaps to court her properly.

But what about his work? He was convinced there were more royal tombs to be discovered, more artifacts to unearth. Not to mention stabilizing and protecting the ones already exposed to tourists and greedy antiquities thieves. He was an archaeologist by trade and by desire. Could he just give that up to go on the lecture circuit and spend his days in museums?

“What about Mr. Bellows? Technically, I’m still his employee. He’s hired me to head his expeditions in Egypt. He still holds the firman for the Valley of the Queens.”

The man at the foot of the table shook his head. “Hasn’t he spoken to you about that? Now that he’s garnered the biggest coup in the history of Egyptian archaeology, he’s of a mind to let the firman go and concentrate his efforts elsewhere. I’m sure he assumed, with your winning the monetary prize, you’d be funding your own digs if you chose to go back to Egypt. He’s been very helpful in the negotiations with Loret, and he is the one who suggested you were the right man to hire to fill the office of traveling curator.”

The chairman studied him. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised at your hesitancy. I had no idea we’d have to cajole you into considering our offer. I thought you’d be eager.”

Max toyed with a pencil. “Your offer is most generous, but it would mean a big change for me. And I’m up to my neck in getting the new exhibit finished in time for the gala opening.” He set the pencil down and steepled his hands, tapping his lips with his index fingers. “I need some time to consider your offer. Can I let you know my decision once the exhibit is open to the public?”

They looked from one to another. The finance director leaned over and whispered something to the chairman, who nodded. “That is acceptable. By that time we should have firm commitments from the other museums as well.” He pushed his chair back and stood, and everyone around the table followed suit.

Max shook the chairman’s hand, his mind still reeling. “Thank you, sir.”

“Your first priority is the exhibit, but we want you on the staff permanently, young man.”

Feeling pulled in a dozen directions, Max made his way back to his cramped office. What wouldn’t he give to be in Egypt right now, staring at the desert sky strewn with a billion stars?

Somehow the daydream of Egypt had changed slightly. Instead of a single canvas chair in front of his tent, there were two.

Odd, that.

Chapter 5

T
he days passed so quickly, Ally wished she could grab them by the tail and slow them down. She spent every possible moment at the museum with Max. Though they spoke mostly of Egyptology and the artifacts, she also learned about him as a man. The workmen respected him, and he had a dry sense of humor that came out at unexpected times. His patience seemed to know no bounds when it came to the details of the exhibit.

Every day, she sketched more artifacts, and to her delight, Max began teaching her to read the hieroglyphs. Always careful not to get in his way or slow his progress, she was content just to be with him and thrilled when he began trusting her to help with some of the treasures. Every evening, as they parted at the museum doors, she felt as if she’d lost something precious, one more day of her freedom.

Her mother kept to her side of the bargain. She said not a word about suitors or how Ally was spending her days, and the guests invited to the house or the outings they went on during this time were always with people of her parents’ age.

Early every morning, when the light was the best, Ally would paint in her fifth-floor studio. Opening the french doors, letting the late spring breeze drift inside, she would transform the lightning sketches of artifacts done the day before into scenes depicting the object in everyday use. Water jars, thrones, game tables, the chariot. Employing every bit of historical information imparted by Max, she brought scenes of life in ancient Egypt alive.

Princess Meryat-Kai appeared in every picture, sometimes with her prince and sometimes alone. The more Ally was around the princess’s belongings and her history, the more she began to identify with the young woman. Time was short and precious, and every moment spent with the one you cared for was to be treasured.

Ally’s favorite was of the prince and princess on their wedding day, copied from the photograph Max had shown her of the tomb relief. Across the bottom she wrote first in hieroglyphs and then in English the poem Max had quoted to her.

The paintings would be her present to Max, a thank-you for everything he’d taught her, a gift of herself to him. The artwork was deeply personal, part of their shared world of two over the past weeks.

Every day, her mother’s deadline grew closer, and every day, Ally fell more and more in love with Max. She knew her parents—her mother—would never approve of him. He had no money, no influence. He was a simple scholar and assistant curator. He spent half his year in Egypt, helping on expeditions.

Guilt weighed on her heart. Was she disobeying her parents by falling for Max? They had other plans for her, but she knew if Max ever offered for her, she’d follow him to the ends of the earth. And yet how could she do that to her parents?

During the daytime, and especially when she was with Max, she could shove all of those questions to the background and live in the moment, but at night, when everything was still, sleep eluded her, and her heart warred in her chest.

A week before the Saturday grand opening of the exhibit, she arrived at the museum to find that Max was tied up in a meeting. Disappointed that anything should keep them apart when time was growing so short, she strolled from one gallery to the next without noticing a single piece of artwork.

How could she leave for Newport and her mother’s plans for her future when her heart was here with Max? If she told her parents the truth, they’d pack her off and forbid her to ever see him again. And if she lied to them, it would break their hearts.

“Alicia?”

She looked up.

“Alicia, it
is
you. It’s been forever.” Charity Bakersfield rose from a bench and held out her arms for a hug, air-kissing Ally’s cheeks. “Where have you been this spring? I haven’t seen you at a single party.”

“Charity, nice to see you.” Ally pasted a smile on her face and allowed herself to be drawn down on the bench.

“What is that dreadful garment you’re wearing? I hardly recognized you.” Charity twitched her own voluminous skirts and fluffed the lace at her throat.

“It’s to protect my clothes from paint and chalk and graphite while I work.” Ally patted her beloved garment.

“How… utilitarian.” Charity’s eyebrows slanted at a dubious angle. “I would think, however, your dressmaker could come up with something a bit more stylish? You look like you’re about to drive a motorcar across country.”