much, you know.”
“Do tell,” he said, flicking Celeste a look that warned
he
didn’t miss much, either.
“Oh, yes. She is quite the observer. Of course, she hasn’t had the chance to observe many
gentlemen
at close range.”
“Nana!” Her face flamed now. “Pay no heed, Professor. My grandmother can sometimes be a bit … direct.”
“Like grandmother, like granddaughter?” he asked tartly.
“Oooh. And a touch of humor. You didn’t mention that, Celeste.” Lady Sophia chuckled at Celeste’s ill-concealed distress and leaned over to pat her hand. “Well, Stephan, Ibelieve we’re ready for Maria’s soup.” She turned to the professor with a confidential air. “Oyster, you know. It’s our Maria’s specialty.”
“Your Portuguese cook?”
“Why, yes. How did you know?”
“It was in Miss Ashton’s book,” he said, shifting his broad shoulders to one side to allow the old butler to serve him.
“You recalled that from my book?” Celeste asked, grateful to move on to another topic, any other topic.
“I have made a thorough study of your writing.” His voice was noticeably cooler. Their gazes met briefly and she felt a ripple of uneasiness, wondering what sorts of conclusions he had drawn from her work, and hoping she hadn’t revealed more in her book than she intended.
“In my sort of work,” he continued, “it is important to be well prepared.”
“Your sort of work?” Lady Sophia said. “Tell me, Professor, what is your field of study?”
“Ichthyology, madam,” he responded.
“
Fish science
. How interesting. Not my cup of tea, of course. I’m far more interested in—” She caught Celeste’s glower and—scowling back at her—changed direction. “In more artistic endeavors. And travel. Not that I get to do much, these days. Do you travel much, Professor?”
He looked up from his nearly empty soup dish. “When the occasion calls for it. But I spend most of my time in Oxford.” He paused, considering something as he looked at Celeste. “I just returned, not long ago, from a stay in Newcastle.”
“Newcastle?” Celeste frowned, thinking instantly of coal, iron ore, smelters, and hot, sulphur-laden air, and wondering what a skeptical “fish scientist” could possibly find of interest in a notoriously rough and dirty industrial town. “What were you doing there? Collecting specimens?”
“Hardly. I was researching and exposing an archaeological fraud.” He ignored the clang of Celeste’s spoon dropping in her dish, and looked at Lady Sophia as he continued. “Itseemed a fellow in that city claimed to have unearthed a Viking ship covered with magical runes. He set up a tidy little business, charging for viewing it. After a while, he began to claim it could effect miracle cures. For a fee, people with dire illnesses could spend a night in the ship and be healed.”
“And were they?” Lady Sophia leaned forward. “Healed?”
“Despite his claims,” he replied with obvious satisfaction, “I was unable to locate a single person who had been cured of anything but false hope or a fat purse. Most of the charlatan’s patrons returned to the boat night after night until they were drained of resources.”
“Were you able to stop the blackguard?” Lady Sophia asked eagerly.
“With some effort. A survey of his former clients exposed the shameful number of failed cures, and could not bring to light one verifiable healing. After careful study, I was able to determine that the carvings were neither ancient nor authentic. All that remained was to discover who had actually done the carvings on the boat and bring the fellow and his accomplices to justice.”
“But how did you come to investigate Viking artifacts?” Celeste asked, thinking of the artifacts her grandmother had packed into every available inch of the library and breakfast room. “Archaeology is not your field.”
He looked at Celeste speculatively. “I am called upon to investigate a wide range
“Do tell,” he said, flicking Celeste a look that warned
he
didn’t miss much, either.
“Oh, yes. She is quite the observer. Of course, she hasn’t had the chance to observe many
gentlemen
at close range.”
“Nana!” Her face flamed now. “Pay no heed, Professor. My grandmother can sometimes be a bit … direct.”
“Like grandmother, like granddaughter?” he asked tartly.
“Oooh. And a touch of humor. You didn’t mention that, Celeste.” Lady Sophia chuckled at Celeste’s ill-concealed distress and leaned over to pat her hand. “Well, Stephan, Ibelieve we’re ready for Maria’s soup.” She turned to the professor with a confidential air. “Oyster, you know. It’s our Maria’s specialty.”
“Your Portuguese cook?”
“Why, yes. How did you know?”
“It was in Miss Ashton’s book,” he said, shifting his broad shoulders to one side to allow the old butler to serve him.
“You recalled that from my book?” Celeste asked, grateful to move on to another topic, any other topic.
“I have made a thorough study of your writing.” His voice was noticeably cooler. Their gazes met briefly and she felt a ripple of uneasiness, wondering what sorts of conclusions he had drawn from her work, and hoping she hadn’t revealed more in her book than she intended.
“In my sort of work,” he continued, “it is important to be well prepared.”
“Your sort of work?” Lady Sophia said. “Tell me, Professor, what is your field of study?”
“Ichthyology, madam,” he responded.
“
Fish science
. How interesting. Not my cup of tea, of course. I’m far more interested in—” She caught Celeste’s glower and—scowling back at her—changed direction. “In more artistic endeavors. And travel. Not that I get to do much, these days. Do you travel much, Professor?”
He looked up from his nearly empty soup dish. “When the occasion calls for it. But I spend most of my time in Oxford.” He paused, considering something as he looked at Celeste. “I just returned, not long ago, from a stay in Newcastle.”
“Newcastle?” Celeste frowned, thinking instantly of coal, iron ore, smelters, and hot, sulphur-laden air, and wondering what a skeptical “fish scientist” could possibly find of interest in a notoriously rough and dirty industrial town. “What were you doing there? Collecting specimens?”
“Hardly. I was researching and exposing an archaeological fraud.” He ignored the clang of Celeste’s spoon dropping in her dish, and looked at Lady Sophia as he continued. “Itseemed a fellow in that city claimed to have unearthed a Viking ship covered with magical runes. He set up a tidy little business, charging for viewing it. After a while, he began to claim it could effect miracle cures. For a fee, people with dire illnesses could spend a night in the ship and be healed.”
“And were they?” Lady Sophia leaned forward. “Healed?”
“Despite his claims,” he replied with obvious satisfaction, “I was unable to locate a single person who had been cured of anything but false hope or a fat purse. Most of the charlatan’s patrons returned to the boat night after night until they were drained of resources.”
“Were you able to stop the blackguard?” Lady Sophia asked eagerly.
“With some effort. A survey of his former clients exposed the shameful number of failed cures, and could not bring to light one verifiable healing. After careful study, I was able to determine that the carvings were neither ancient nor authentic. All that remained was to discover who had actually done the carvings on the boat and bring the fellow and his accomplices to justice.”
“But how did you come to investigate Viking artifacts?” Celeste asked, thinking of the artifacts her grandmother had packed into every available inch of the library and breakfast room. “Archaeology is not your field.”
He looked at Celeste speculatively. “I am called upon to investigate a wide range
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