Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,78

I shall have the time! I knew I should have readied the room and the house for guests before they arrived. Thanks to you, I am chasing my tail. It is a miracle I have managed to pull together a proper dinner for this evening. Make sure you keep them all thoroughly occupied tomorrow. We do not want any of them seeing the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker traipsing into the house with emergency supplies. I am expecting you all to leave promptly after breakfast and not to return until at least luncheon.’

Then she turned on her heel and sailed to the door in time for Lord Denby and his snivelling crony, Lord Whittlesey, to walk through it. ‘Gentlemen! I trust your accommodations are to your satisfaction...’

Max put himself in charge of dishing out the drinks, much to Smithson’s blatant consternation, to ease himself into hosting, keeping one eye on the door for Effie. Sir Percival entered next and made straight towards him.

‘I have been reading your essay again, Rivenhall, and it has thrown up so many questions.’ Oh, dear. ‘For example, how can you be entirely sure the bracelet in particular predates the Romans rather than be something from a later period? Only some medieval jewellery is sometimes impressively ornate.’

‘When you see it after dinner, I am certain it will alleviate any doubts.’ A fudged answer, but the best he could manage on his own. ‘And if that doesn’t convince you, the shield we found last week will.’

‘A shield, you say? A partial?’

‘Intact. Solid bronze and really quite magnificent.’

‘Oh, you are a tease, old chap! How am I supposed to compose myself at dinner when I’m as excited as a...?’ He paused mid-sentence and suddenly gaped over Max’s shoulder, the ancient shield clearly forgotten. ‘I say!’

Max followed his dumbfounded gaze to Effie, who was a positive vision in red silk. So lovely it made his heart pound and his mouth go dry. Before he could reconnect his brain to his feet and move towards her, Sir Percival had wasted no time.

‘Miss Jones—how lovely you look.’ He bent low over her ungloved hand and kissed it.

That kiss galvanised Max into action and, imbued with the most peculiar and inescapably proprietary feeling, he went to claim her. Not caring, for once, what anyone thought but Sir Percival, who needed to learn she was most definitely not on the market.

Chapter Nineteen

Dig Day 802: no progress and, more worryingly, no plan...

‘Good evening, my darling. Don’t you look ravishing.’ A flirty Max was not something she had ever seen before, let alone experienced, and it completely scrambled her wits. Or perhaps that was simply the way her nerve endings danced when he lingered over kissing her hand, then curled it possessively around his arm. He anchored it in place with his warm palm as he escorted her into the room as if they were a real betrothed couple. It was such a solid arm, too, one which should have made her feel secure, when in fact it did anything but. He lent down to whisper in her ear and his warm breath sent tingles shooting down her neck, bouncing down her spine towards places which really had no place making their presence so apparently known in polite company. ‘Your earrings match for once. I am impressed.’

‘So do my shoes.’ Was that her voice? It sounded strange. Too squeaky. Too breathy. Obviously flustered. She quietly exhaled to try to slow her racing pulse. ‘Thanks to the maid Eleanor has assigned me, I even have proper hairpins.’

‘Which is sad, because I much prefer the pencil.’ He kept hold of her arm as they reached the others. ‘Gentlemen, may I introduce you again to my fiancée, Miss Effie Jones. The very best assistant a man could wish for.’ He squeezed her hand reassuringly as he said this and nearly all of her residual disappointment in him from the last week disappeared. He was attempting to give credit where credit was due as well as playing along with her charade. Nobody had ever done either before, for either the sake of her work or simply for her.

Lord Denby grimaced, or at least the half-hearted attempt at a polite smile when his