others are from a larger grazing animal such as a sheep or a cow.’
‘They could just as easily be from a wild boar or deer hunted in the forest, Miss Jones.’ Doubting Denby was not the least bit convinced. Hardly a surprise when, so far, he had not been convinced of any conjecture or evidence Effie had put forward. He had, however, conceded a few of Max’s points, but as Max hadn’t committed the shocking crime of being born female or being able to quote all the pertinent Roman histories of the Celts to the letter, it went without saying that in Lord Denby’s cynical and prejudiced eyes, he must be the more informed than she could possibly ever be. It was hard not to show her frustration at his persistently blinkered outlook, but once again she bit her lip. Without Denby’s support, her discoveries would never make it into Archaeologia even with Max’s name on them.
‘Well, that one is definitely from a cow.’ Max winked at her as he pointed at the fat, stubby bone in the centre of the pile, dashing in to save her as he had so many times this evening already like a knight in shining armour. ‘Which, as Effie says, is a grazing animal which has been kept for thousands of years by all manner of ancient civilisations. Didn’t the Egyptians keep cows? Even the Book of Genesis mentions the creation of livestock for man to rule over. And technically, that was only on the sixth day... A ridiculous number of centuries before our Celts put beef in their stew.’
‘Are you an expert on butchery as well as antiquity and theology, Lord Rivenhall?’ Lord Whittlesey had not said much all evening, unless it was to add fuel to Lord Denby’s current contrary argument.
‘Have you ever been on a gunship, Lord Whittlesey?’
‘I have never had cause to, Lord Rivenhall.’
‘Well, that explains your ignorance then. I sailed with His Majesty’s Navy for twenty years and butchery is one of the many skills I learned on deck. We always set sail with a plethora of animals on board to feed the crew—cows, pigs, sheep, chickens and occasionally even the odd goat. So I think I am more qualified than anyone else in this room to state, and without any doubt whatsoever, that that bone comes from a cow. And if I am not mistaken, I will even be so bold as to identify it as a rib. Whereas this...’ he pointed to another fragment, looking quietly triumphant as well as the most virile and manly man around the table ‘...looks a lot like the tail. Clearly our Celts were as thrifty and creative with their rations as my cook was on the Artemis. I do hope they boiled it to death before they served it as the tail can be horrendously tough.’ And with an entirely smug, male smile which suited him immensely, he stood. ‘That’s quite enough antiquity for one day. Time for some port, I think. Followed by a spirited game of billiards if any of you gentlemen are inclined to wager.’
‘I’ll wager every penny, brick and stick of furniture I own in exchange for your beautiful and brilliant fiancée.’ Percy had been an outrageously delightful flirt all evening. Effie already adored him.
‘Then prepare to sleep on the streets when you return to London, my good fellow.’ Max shot her a heated glance for appearances’ sake, which her instantly needy body refused to believe was entirely for appearances. ‘Because I have no intention of ever parting with her.’
Chapter Twenty
One smitten portly rival...
The pair of them were already as thick as thieves. Max had no right to be jealous—but he was. Jealous and frustrated at the way the pair of them so obviously got on. In fact, it was causing him so much consternation, he sincerely doubted he would be able to sleep at all. He’d been pacing the rug in his bedchamber for at least half an hour since thoroughly thrashing the scoundrel at billiards and hadn’t yet managed to remove more than his waistcoat he was so aggrieved.
And Effie was probably annoyed to boot.
Perhaps it had been churlish to put a stop to the discussion when she was clearly in her element and impressing the hell out of