Read Online Guilty Series by Laura Lee Guhrke - Free Book Online
Authors: Laura Lee Guhrke
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memory came into his mind of the day she had arrived at Tremore Hall five months earlier. Today was not the first timeMiss Wade had given him cause for surprise.
For a long time, he had wanted to excavate the Roman remains on his estate, and had envisioned a museum in which to put them. Not just a place for the wealthy and privileged to view a part of their history, but one open to British citizens of all classes. There was nothing else like it in London.
Sir Henry Wade had been widely acknowledged as the best antiquarian living, and Anthony had wanted the best for his excavation. He had spent three years trying to persuade Sir Henry to take on the villa excavation and the restoration of its antiquities, to no avail. He had been forced to use other, much less skilled restorers, and he had found their expertise woefully inadequate, but he had persisted in his attempts to persuade Sir Henry to return to England and take over the project, and the man had finally agreed to come.
But it had not been that eminent gentleman he had found waiting for him in the anteroom off of Tremoreâs great hall that March day five months ago. Standing amid the stone statues, green marble columns, and crystal chandeliers of the anteroom, he had found a young woman with a round, solemn face and gold-rimmed spectacles, a woman who had proclaimed to his house steward that she was Sir Henryâs daughter. Dressed in a worn brown traveling cloak, wearing brown boots of heavy leather and a wide-brimmed straw hat, with a plain black portmanteau at her feet, she had looked as dry as the Moroccan desert from which she had come.
In a soft, well-bred voice that displayed no discernible personal feeling, she had told him of her fatherâs death and her arrival here to take Sir Henryâs place and complete his excavation.
His immediate refusal should have sent her scurrying for the door, but it had not. She had ignored his words as if he had not spoken at all. She had told him of her knowledge and experience in a recital of concise facts, listing in methodical fashion all the reasons why he should allow her to step into what would have been her fatherâs position.
When he had finally interrupted her, stating in the most icy tone a duke could command that he had chosen her father because he had wanted the best antiquarian available and he had no intention of hiring her without her father, she had not pleaded with him. She had not tried to play on his sympathy or his chivalry with some heartbreaking story about how she had nothing and no one and needed the job. She had merely blinked at him through those spectacles, staring at him with that inscrutable face and looking for all the world like a solemn baby owl as she had replied in utter seriousness, âI am the best available.â
His disbelieving laugh had gone right by her, for she had continued, âI am the daughter of Sir Henry Wade, and he was the best. I was trained by him, and now that he is gone, there is no one more qualified for this post than I.â
He had never intended to hire her, but he had few options. For the sake of expedience, he had agreed, and for the sake of propriety, he had brought Mr.and Mrs. Bennington from one of the lodges on the estate into the house, so that Mrs. Bennington might act as her chaperone.
During the five months Miss Wade had been here, he had come to realize that her words had been no idle boast. She knew more about ancient Roman antiquities than he could ever hope to know. She was an excellent mosaicist, and her fresco work was perfection itself. He had wanted the best, and as she had so bluntly told him, he had gotten it.
Anthony came out of his reverie and crumpled the letter in his hand into a ball. Until this project was complete, Miss Wade was not going anywhere. When he had the best, he was damn well going to keep it.
Chapter 6
V iola had predicted Anthony would not like the idea of Daphne resigning, and the moment he came
For a long time, he had wanted to excavate the Roman remains on his estate, and had envisioned a museum in which to put them. Not just a place for the wealthy and privileged to view a part of their history, but one open to British citizens of all classes. There was nothing else like it in London.
Sir Henry Wade had been widely acknowledged as the best antiquarian living, and Anthony had wanted the best for his excavation. He had spent three years trying to persuade Sir Henry to take on the villa excavation and the restoration of its antiquities, to no avail. He had been forced to use other, much less skilled restorers, and he had found their expertise woefully inadequate, but he had persisted in his attempts to persuade Sir Henry to return to England and take over the project, and the man had finally agreed to come.
But it had not been that eminent gentleman he had found waiting for him in the anteroom off of Tremoreâs great hall that March day five months ago. Standing amid the stone statues, green marble columns, and crystal chandeliers of the anteroom, he had found a young woman with a round, solemn face and gold-rimmed spectacles, a woman who had proclaimed to his house steward that she was Sir Henryâs daughter. Dressed in a worn brown traveling cloak, wearing brown boots of heavy leather and a wide-brimmed straw hat, with a plain black portmanteau at her feet, she had looked as dry as the Moroccan desert from which she had come.
In a soft, well-bred voice that displayed no discernible personal feeling, she had told him of her fatherâs death and her arrival here to take Sir Henryâs place and complete his excavation.
His immediate refusal should have sent her scurrying for the door, but it had not. She had ignored his words as if he had not spoken at all. She had told him of her knowledge and experience in a recital of concise facts, listing in methodical fashion all the reasons why he should allow her to step into what would have been her fatherâs position.
When he had finally interrupted her, stating in the most icy tone a duke could command that he had chosen her father because he had wanted the best antiquarian available and he had no intention of hiring her without her father, she had not pleaded with him. She had not tried to play on his sympathy or his chivalry with some heartbreaking story about how she had nothing and no one and needed the job. She had merely blinked at him through those spectacles, staring at him with that inscrutable face and looking for all the world like a solemn baby owl as she had replied in utter seriousness, âI am the best available.â
His disbelieving laugh had gone right by her, for she had continued, âI am the daughter of Sir Henry Wade, and he was the best. I was trained by him, and now that he is gone, there is no one more qualified for this post than I.â
He had never intended to hire her, but he had few options. For the sake of expedience, he had agreed, and for the sake of propriety, he had brought Mr.and Mrs. Bennington from one of the lodges on the estate into the house, so that Mrs. Bennington might act as her chaperone.
During the five months Miss Wade had been here, he had come to realize that her words had been no idle boast. She knew more about ancient Roman antiquities than he could ever hope to know. She was an excellent mosaicist, and her fresco work was perfection itself. He had wanted the best, and as she had so bluntly told him, he had gotten it.
Anthony came out of his reverie and crumpled the letter in his hand into a ball. Until this project was complete, Miss Wade was not going anywhere. When he had the best, he was damn well going to keep it.
Chapter 6
V iola had predicted Anthony would not like the idea of Daphne resigning, and the moment he came
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