by Devon, Eva
Westmore suddenly cleared his throat and ignored her. “I cannot imagine this is a social call, Roxley, as much as I miss your company.”
“I don’t miss you an iota,” Roxley returned.
“But we were once the dearest of friends,” Westmore replied, the affectation in his voice positively nauseating.
“That’s until you showed yourself to be an utter rogue,” Roxley growled.
Pippa looked from man to man again quickly. Friends?
“Oh, he hasn’t told you.” Westmore shook his head tragically. “Yes, we were the best of friends until about two years ago. We went to school together and we were inseparable.”
“Yes,” Roxley confirmed. “It was most surprising to learn you were such a difficult and irascible person.”
Pippa bit down on her lower lip. Roxley could be described with those two words as well, but Roxley could not be described as a thief or a schemer.
She looked upon Westmore again and noticed the slight line about his mouth, the way that the angles of his lips actually curved down whilst he smiled. It seemed an impossibility.
But she realized that perhaps he was hiding something, just as Roxley suggested.
His charm was a cover for something darker inside.
Was she imagining things now, wishing to support Roxley?
She did not know.
“I am Lord Roxley’s assistant,” she stated boldly. “He will be taking me to Egypt. I look forward to it greatly.”
Westmore narrowed his gaze. “Your family must be very tolerant.”
“They are,” she said, suddenly wishing to not discuss her family in the slightest. How had he known she wouldn’t wish to? Was he so very perceptive?
Westmore cocked his head to the side, like a hound on the scent of a fox. “I know that I would never allow my sister to do such a thing.”
“Would you not?” she queried. “As I understand, a great many ladies have traveled to Egypt.”
“Not a great many,” countered Westmore. “Many of them have gone to Greece though, of course. And to Italy, though I do not recommend it.”
“Why ever not?” she asked, surprised at his attitude.
“Ladies do have a tendency to have their eyes turned, don’t you know?” Westmore’s lip curled in distaste. “By the populace of young men in those particular regions.”
Pure disgust coiled in her belly. “My goodness,” she said. “You make us sound as if we are weak-willed fools. And your attitude regarding the populace of another nation is foul.”
Westmore was silent, but a strange glint chilled his gaze.
And she realized that he did think her a weak-willed fool.
She ground her teeth together and took a slight step forward. “We are not here to discuss the strengths of my sex, my lord. We are here to discuss what went missing last night.”
Westmore blinked innocently. “Missing,” he said before he dragged a self-satisfied gaze over to Roxley. “Did you lose something in the night? You have always been terribly unorganized.”
Pippa swallowed.
It was something close to what she had suggested.
“I didn’t lose anything,” Roxley spat out. “You’ve taken it.”
Westmore blinked with ridiculously exaggerated innocence, which led Pippa to believe that, yes, he had absolutely taken the map.
No one of Westmore’s age could look so truly dim. He was not a sheep. Although he did try to look as innocent as one, it was very clear that the earl was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, doing his best to play a part.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Roxley, but I have been in my home all week,” Westmore said with dripping sympathy. “I have been getting ready for my next trip to Egypt, don’t you know? Soon I shall be going.”
“You’re going back to Egypt?” Roxley demanded, his face paling.
“Of course,” Westmore replied as though it was of no import. “After all, just like you, it is my favorite place in the whole world. Why would I not wish to go back as soon as possible?”
“You only wish to return to steal more things from the tombs of ancients and take them away from their homeland,” Roxley accused.
The fury which now darkened Roxley’s face was a marvel to behold.
“But I am preserving them,” Westmore drawled. “How terrible for those objects of art to be left in a country where people do not know how to take care of them.”
“Bah!” Roxley roared. “That is the sentiment of an impossible and arrogant fool. They have been taking care of the items for thousands of years. They have not been bothered. And it was only recently that there has been any sort of trouble at all. All of the people traipsing about the tombs with candles, the paint peeling from the walls, the breath of horrible humans causing disintegration every which way—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Westmore cut in with a raised hand. “I know your opinions on the state of affairs in Egypt. Now, if you have nothing new to say, I am happy to give you a glass of brandy and then perhaps we can discuss the state of travel, for it shall be quite difficult to get there.”
Roxley glared. “I have no desire to discuss travel with you, to Egypt or to the devil.”
“What a disappointment,” Westmore said with undue pleasure. “We used to have such a good time together.”
“Those days are done,” Roxley bit out. “I do not have fun with people who rob others blind.”
The Earl of Westmore tsked. “What a libelous suggestion. I could never rob people blind.” His gaze narrowed with a shocking skepticism. “No. No. I only take what people are willing to give and they are willing to give quite a lot, you know, Roxley. And people here in London are very happy to acquire such things. What a wonder it is to bestow the drawing rooms of London with the history of ancient Egypt.”
Pippa gasped, her head buzzing with the horror of what he had said so lightly. “There should be a method of organization if items are to be extracted,” she proclaimed. “Otherwise how shall we deduce the importance of the past? Surely such knowledge will only improve our understanding of our own present.”
Westmore leveled an appalled stare at her. “Why should we wish to understand them better, my dear? We are a glorious nation now. What could we possibly hope to learn from them, except to enjoy the beauty of the art that they made so long ago?”
She gaped at the man, hardly able to fathom his narrow-minded stupidity.
Roxley was not mistaken.
The man was an idiot.
“I think that we have no further business here, Roxley,” she stated. “Westmore says that he does not have the map and, therefore, perhaps we should go.”
“I still don’t know what you’re speaking of, Roxley,” Westmore said with a triumphant smile. “Spending too many hours in the sun has addled your brain. I recommend you stay in England for at least another month to recover.”
Roxley nearly frothed at the mouth and she had to lightly touch his arm. For she was certain he was about to do bodily harm to Westmore. It was tempting to allow it.
Westmore caught her eye and stated, “And I think, Roxley, you should consider a different assistant. I don’t really think taking this young lady to Egypt will be a good idea. She’s far too opinionated to get on with all of the people there, don’t you think? She won’t exactly know how to further your endeavors or your cause. No, she will rub feathers quite the wrong way.”
She glowered at him then. “You know little of me, sir.”
“How true,” he said apologetically. Though there wasn’t an apologetic bone in his body. “I did not quite catch your name.”
“Pippa Post,” she gritted.
“Miss Pippa Post?”
“Yes,” she declared, hoping to march for the door.
Westmore stilled. “Any relation to George Post?”
She swallowed. “Perhaps,” she allowed.
Westmore laughed then, a deep booming sound. “Your father?”
She swallowed again. She did not like to
admit it. And she did not like his reaction. “Yes,” she admitted.
Westmore folded his arms across his chest. “Ah, what an interesting fellow he is. I wouldn’t have imagined him to have a daughter like you.”
“I don’t know what that means, sir, but I wish to bid you good day.” And with that, she turned on her heel.
Furious, she did not wait for Roxley. Besides, she was certain that he would follow.
Roxley did.
As soon as she had exited out into the hall, she let out a breath and longed to kick something. Nothing was available that she would not regret kicking.
So she strode down the hall as quickly as she possibly could, not looking back, which forced Roxley to call after her.
“Pippa!”
But she did not look back until she was out of Westmore’s overly decorated house, down the steps, and ascending into Roxley’s coach.
He climbed in after her. “What the devil was that about?”
“I don’t like him,” she said, her whole body burning with fury at the experience.
“Neither do I, but it’s usually I who storm out of rooms.” He studied her carefully as the coach began to roll down the gravel drive. “I did not expect that it would be you who made such an exit.”
“I could not bear to be in his presence another moment.” She let out a sound of frustration. “He’s absolutely insufferable.”
Roxley’s lips twitched. “It is usually people who find me to be insufferable.”
“I do not find you to be insufferable at all,” she replied, finally able to draw in a steadying breath. “You are the most sufferable person that I know.”
His emerald eyes gleamed with amusement. “I believe that to be a compliment.”
“Oh, indeed,” she assured. “Him? He is impossible. Westmore is not to be tolerated. We must get that map back or we must stop him before he causes any more harm.”
“I agree with you,” Roxley said calmly. “Let us return home and immediately begin planning our travel to Egypt.”
Home, he had said.
And she realized, much to her surprise, that that is exactly what his house felt like to her now.
A home.
Something she had never had before. Not really. She’d never felt as if she belonged with her family.
But she felt as if she belonged somewhere at last. With him.
Chapter 17
One would have hoped that they would have been able to leave for Egypt immediately.
One would have hoped in vain.
Trunks needed to be packed, medicines prepared.
There were a vast many things that would be needed for such an extensive journey that could not be easily obtained.
It was no small thing to go from England to Cairo.
The lists and lists of items that Roxley had put together astonished Pippa.
They would have to go to London for a great deal of it, but they had managed to pack up all of the things in the house that they would need in three days.
Even she knew what a remarkable feat that was.
Luckily, she had few things herself.
However, he’d been firm that once they arrived in London, she was going to have several practical traveling and working garments made up for her as quickly as possible.
Then they would be off.
She stood in the parlor off the foyer and took a final look at the six trunks that were packed together and ready to be loaded onto Roxley’s coach.
It was astonishing that they should need so much, but there it was.
Roxley, himself, would need little once they arrived in London. It was really just the last stop for medical supplies before they headed to Italy by ship.
Water was the fastest route after all, and then from Italy they would sail on to Alexandria.
The thrill of it coursed through her veins.
The thundering of the front door astonished Pippa, but the outcry of Mrs. Apsbury as someone swarmed into the foyer was even more surprising.
That lady was unshakeable in Pippa’s opinion.
The voice that ripped through the air was a familiar one. Dread crushed Pippa’s stomach.
There was a great cacophony of noise from the foyer as Roxley stormed into it.
Suddenly, she heard him shouting at the uninvited guest. “What the devil do you want? Who the devil are you? Get out of my house!”
She tensed, waves of horror sweeping over her.
But she was no coward. Pippa whirled around and raced out into the hall, and then into the foyer.
She spotted her father standing near the wide door, his face flashing with fury.
Dear God, what was he doing in Cornwall?
The man rarely stepped foot out of London, as far as she could recall.
“There you are,” her father snapped as he laid eyes upon her.
“Yes, Papa,” she said, straightening her spine. “It is I, but what are you doing here?”
He sneered at her, as if her comment was that of a stupid child. “I have come to collect you.” Then his eyes narrowed and he demanded harshly, “Are you the earl’s mistress, Pippa?”
“Mistress?” Roxley bellowed. “What the devil are you on about? She’s my assistant.”
“Assistant,” her father repeated. “Do not be foolish, sir. She is a young lady. She does not work.”
Pippa lifted her chin and countered, “I do, Papa, and I’m quite proud of it.”
“Don’t be absurd,” her father snarled. “You will come home at once.”
“No, Papa, I shall not.”
Roxley looked from her father to her in utter astonishment. “I do not follow this line of discourse, Pippa,” he said. “Did your father not know you were here?”
Her world froze and, though she hated to have to do it, she forced herself to meet his surprised gaze.
He looked stunned.
He looked appalled.
And suddenly she realized he must feel as if she had lied to him, which she supposed she had done, but not deliberately.
She had simply kept back the fact that she had not informed her family that she had gone to seek work.
She had told them all that she was going to stay with Helena in the country for the foreseeable future. They’d been happy to be rid of her, and so she had not seen the dilemma.
Roxley might not understand her reasoning. He had never been the prisoner of a parent.
“I did not tell him I was coming here,” she admitted.
“What did you tell him?” Roxley asked, dazed.
Her father’s face was a dangerous shade of red. “She said she was staying with a good friend in the country. I did not assume it would be a man like you, Roxley.”
“A man like myself, sir? You mean a lord?” Roxley, who never used his title, suddenly drawled, “And who are you?”
“I am Mr. Post,” her father retorted. “A gentleman from London.”
“And someone apparently worth running away from,” Roxley observed. “If Pippa did not want to stay with you, I’m sure she had her reasons. She works for me, and she’s coming with me to Egypt.”
“She is not,” her father said in the tone that brooked no argument. “She is my daughter, and she has not yet reached her majority. I do not give permission.”
Roxley let out a horrified groan. “Pippa, is this true?”
“Yes,” she confessed, even as she felt white-hot embarrassment crash over her. “But I could not bear to stay with him any longer.”
“We have a great dilemma.” Roxley locked gazes with her, his emerald orbs dark with dismay. “Your father will not allow you to come to Egypt, but I need you. Whatever am I going to do?” He hesitated, then said flatly, “Pippa, I cannot replace you easily.”
She stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
Was that all he had to say, that he had lost his assistant?
She wanted to shake him.
“Roxley,” she said. “Do you not hear what my father is sayi
ng? He is saying that I may not go with you. That—”
“Yes, I am hearing that exactly,” Roxley cut in. “What shall I do without an assistant?”
She looked at him then, her heart falling to her feet. That was all that he truly cared about? He had warned her, after all.
“Papa,” she said, “if you insist that I go home with you, I suppose I must, but it is imperative I collect my things first.”
Her cheeks burned at her own foolishness. How had she dared to believe Roxley cared for her? Why had she not taken him at his word when he proclaimed that he disappointed everyone?
“Goodbye, Roxley,” she whispered. “I wish you the best of luck in finding someone who will be able to catalog your things for you in the way that you wish.” She swallowed as her throat tightened. “I have never been happier than in these last weeks and I shan’t regret them, but certainly this isn’t the way I imagined that we should end it.”
With that, she could bear it no longer and she whipped around and headed up the stairs. She refused to allow tears to come to her eyes.
She would not think about the fact that he was more upset that he was losing an assistant than the fact that she was being taken away from him.
She shouldn’t have been surprised.
She knew it was in his nature, but seeing it so fully on view? She did not know if she’d ever escape the pain of it.
Chapter 18
Marcus stood at the center of the foyer, realizing that he had not spoken articulately.
It was a misfortune of his.
He did not always say the right thing, and he realized he had said the absolute wrong thing before her father. He had made Pippa believe that he only cared that she was being taken away from him because she served a purpose for him. Well, she did serve a purpose. She made him happy unlike anyone had ever done before.
He looked at her father, his lip curling in disgust. “You must be an absolute ponce.”
“I beg your pardon,” Mr. Post huffed.
“To drive such a wonderful young woman away.”
“She is not a wonderful young woman. She’s a great deal of trouble,” her father said.