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

by Amanda Barratt, Susanne Dietze, Cynthia Hickey, Shannon McNear, Gabrielle Meyer, Connie Stevens, Erica Vetsch, Gina Welborn

  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

  The 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.

  While unhurried days come and go,

  Let us turn to each other in quiet affection,

  Walk in peace to the edge of old age….

  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.”

  Ally shrugged. “It suits my needs.”

  “Now, tell me what you’ve been up to. Florence and Jane were just commenting last night at the theater that we hadn’t seen you in ages. We thought maybe you’d cut out early for Newport.”

  “No, not yet. Mother’s making arrangements to head down a week from Monday.”

  “Really? That’s when we’re going, too. It’s going to be a riot this summer. I’ve already been invited to three balls and several yachting parties. Not to mention Mamie Stuyvesant-Fish is giving a garden party that will be the talk of the season, I’m sure. Everyone will be there: the Cuttings, the Frelinghuysens, the Drexels, the Dyers, the Burdens, just everyone. You did get an invitation, didn’t you?”

&nbs
p; “I’m sure Mother did.”

  Charity prattled on, oblivious to Ally’s distraction and disinterest in the social calendar. “Did you hear the latest? Priscilla Davenport eloped. With a footman! Can you imagine? Her mother has taken to her sickbed and refuses to see anyone. Her father is said to be in a towering rage and has disinherited her. Neither of them had the slightest idea she was romantically involved with a servant. If it wasn’t so tragic, it would be funny. The Davenports will be ruined socially. I hear they might even leave New York. I can’t believe Priscilla was so selfish.”

  “Why selfish? If she loved this man—”

  “Don’t be so silly. It’s one thing to have a little fling with someone not of your social class, but to elope? If she had thought for a second how her actions would affect her family, she never would’ve done it. I’m sure I can’t think what my parents would do, or yours either, if we were to behave so recklessly. Can you imagine the earthquake if Alicia Davidson, heiress to the Davidson Department Store fortune, ran off with a store clerk or a stable hand? We have responsibilities to our families and to our social peers. What’s the point of being a part of the Four Hundred if we just let anyone in?”

  “I suppose.” Ally’s heart was breaking. Her mother would never recover if she chose Max over someone from society, and yet, Max was all her heart wanted.

  Max felt as if a khamsin wind had just whistled through his life, sucking everything dry and blowing all the bits that weren’t anchored down up into the sky. His insides felt scoured out, as if a sandstorm raged within.

  He withdrew, keeping the marble pillar between himself and Ally, sorry he’d ever tried to surprise her.

  Ally. Alicia Davidson. An heiress.

  One of the Four Hundred.

  Why hadn’t she told him? Why make him think she was just an art student?

  Shame prickled his chest. Was she toying with him? Slumming? Amusing herself before she left the city for the elite beachfronts of Newport?

  His hands fisted, and he had a strong desire to punch something. How had he let himself be duped? All her supposed interest in Egyptology, in travel and history and him. What a fool he was.

  Only last night he’d decided to turn down the museum board’s offer to curate the traveling exhibit and brave asking for her hand, to make plans for next year’s expedition that included taking her to Egypt as his bride. At least he’d been spared that humiliation.

  He returned to his office and closed the door, shoving aside an empty crate and a box of books to get to his chair. Plopping down, he put his head in his hands.

  A rueful, harsh laugh worked its way up his throat. What a rube. This is what he got for deviating from his carefully laid plans, for letting his head be turned by a pretty face.

  Scrubbing his hands down his face, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting on the mock-up for the exhibit book. He dragged it toward himself and opened the pasteboard cover. The first image was the drawing Ally had created of the canopic coffins. Amazing detail, brilliant color. He could almost feel the smooth gold and tiny ridges of jewels and precious stones. He could almost smell Ally’s perfume as she bent her head over a drawing, almost hear her laugh as he made some silly joke.

  Slapping the book closed, he shoved it away.

  Ally checked her watch. Was Max finished with his meeting yet? How soon could she politely separate herself from Charity and go find him?

  Charity began gathering her things. “I should go. I’ve been waiting for my father’s cousin. He’s on some kind of board here. Actually, I asked him to meet me here, hoping he’d wangle an introduction to that dreamy archaeologist, James Kirkland. He spoke at the academy a couple of weeks ago, and all the girls were just swooning. Say, since you’re here all the time, you must have met him.”

  “James Kirkland?”

  “Yes, silly. He won the Bellows Prize, discovered that Egyptian princess’s tomb. Imagine, rich, handsome, famous, and intelligent, all in one package.”

  “Uncle Gus mentioned him the other day, but I haven’t met him. I suppose I will at the gala opening of the exhibit this weekend.” And see Max. Perhaps she could introduce Max to her father. Surely Father, as a self-made man, wouldn’t frown on Max’s origins or prospects like Mother would.

  “I heard Mr. Bellows call him Max. Isn’t that cute? The program said his name was James Maxwell Kirkland, Ph.D. But Max is so much more chummy, don’t you think?”

  “What?” Ally’s musings came to an abrupt halt.

  “I said I like Max better than Dr. Kirkland, or even James, don’t you?”

  The gallery whirled like snow in a globe. Max was Dr. James Kirkland?

  Shock gave way to elation. If he had money and social standing, her mother couldn’t cavil at him. And Uncle Gus knew him and liked him.

  “Alicia, are you all right?”

  Ally grabbed Charity by the arms. “I’m more than all right. I have to go. I’ll see you at the gala. Thank you so much. You’ve changed everything.”

  As she hurried away, Charity’s voice echoed in the big room. “Thanks for what?”

  A tap on his door.

  “Who is it?”

  His work crew foreman stuck his head in. “Sir, Miss Ally is looking for you. She’s in the chariot gallery. You want me to send her back here?”

  He wasn’t ready to see her. Didn’t know if he’d ever be ready.

  “I’m working. Tell her I’m too busy today.” He grabbed a piece of paper off his desk and pretended to be reading it as if it held the secret location of another tomb.

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me. I’m busy. I don’t have time for socializing today.”

  The door closed, and the footsteps receded.

  Chapter 6

  It was the same for the rest of the week. Every time Ally went to the museum, Max was too busy to see her. On Sunday the museum was closed, and she moped about the house, swinging from elation to frustration at the delay in seeing him. On Monday when he wasn’t available, she left him a note, but he didn’t reply. On Tuesday, her way into the exhibit was barred.

  “I’m sorry, miss.” The foreman frowned and wouldn’t meet her eyes, just apologized and shrugged.

  Bewildered, she turned away. What had happened? He had to be busy. The exhibit opening was almost upon them. But he’d never been too busy to see her before.

  “Miss?” The foreman twisted his hat in his hands.

  “Yes?” She couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice.

  “Uh…” He tugged at his collar. “The boss says we’re not to let anyone into the galleries until opening night now. He said to make sure we told you that. He doesn’t want to be bothered this close to the exhibit opening.”

  She flinched. He was banning her from behind the scenes? What had she done? What had changed?

  “I’m awful sorry, miss.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded, her eyes stinging. “I won’t bother him again.”

  She dragged herself home and up to her studio. Flinging herself on the chaise, she studied the skylight. Had she imagined everything? Had she assumed too much? Had she somehow disappointed him or put him off?

  The last painting rested on her easel, the final image she’d created to celebrate the gala and the finding of the tomb. Princess Meryet-Kai and her husband sat on their thrones, holding hands. The princess wore a crown of lotus blossoms, and her pleated white linen dress fanned out. Her husband smiled at her, looking into her eyes. Ally swiped away a tear. Their happiness had ended not long after their marriage.

  And hers had ended before it had even begun.

  The morning of the gala, Ally boxed up the artwork and had one of the footmen deliver it to the museum. Whatever had happened to make Max turn away from her, she still wanted him to have the paintings.

  All day her mother oversaw packing and planning and kept Ally close to her side, answering invitations to parties in Newport, creating lists of instructions for the servants in both houses, seeing to la
st-minute details. If she noticed anything different about Ally, she didn’t mention it.

  But Father noticed. Midafternoon he drew Ally into his office.

  “What’s going on with you? You look like a lost kitten. Is it this business with your mother and the suitors?”

  Ally closed her eyes, resting her head on the antimacassar. “No.”

  “Then what is it?” He tamped tobacco into his pipe. “Not looking forward to this evening? You’ve had stars in your eyes every time you talk about this museum gala, and now you’re dragging around here like someone stole your happiness.”

  Another sigh worked its way out. “I’m all right. It’s just that something I wanted very badly isn’t going to happen.”

  “Cheer up, Ally. Things might not be so bleak. Newport won’t be so bad, will it?”

  “No, Father. I’d better go finish helping Mother.” She pushed herself up from the chair.

  “Wait a minute.”

  She stopped, halfway to the door.

  “Does your gloominess have to do with this hypothetical suitor you mentioned a few weeks ago?” He raised one eyebrow at her as he struck a match.

  A flutter of panic hit her middle. “Who?”

  “Don’t play games, Ally. You’ve fallen hard for someone. For the last month you’ve walked around here like you have candles behind your eyes. But sometime this last week, somebody snuffed the light. What happened?”

  He was altogether too perceptive. She laced her fingers. “I fell in love with someone.”

  “And he doesn’t feel the same?”

  “I thought he did. I thought we were meant to be together.” Her voice wavered. “I thought my biggest obstacle was going to be how to convince Mother that he was suitable, but in the end, I worried over nothing. I must’ve imagined he had feelings for me.”