Every Whispered Word by Karyn Monk Read Free Book Online Page A

why your charming friends Stanley and Bert are so interested in your movements, and why you are clambering into carriages that don’t belong to you and skulking down dark, deserted alleys with a stolen sketch and a six-inch dirk sheathed in your boot. Do you actually have a carriage waiting for you somewhere, Lady Camelia, or is that just another one of your charming fabrications?”
    â€œMy driver is waiting for me over on Great Russell Street, in front of the museum,” Camelia told him. “I felt it best that he wait for me there.”
    â€œLet me guess. You had him park there while you went into the museum, making it seem as if you would be there for several hours—a perfectly credible way for the daughter of an esteemed archaeologist to spend an afternoon while she is visiting London. Then you slipped out of the museum via a different door and made your way to my house, thinking no one would suspect you had left without the benefit of your carriage.”
    â€œIt was a sound plan.”
    â€œI suppose it was, right up until the moment your friends Stanley and Bert descended upon you. Evidently they are not as easily duped as you think. The question is, why are they so anxious to keep you out of Africa? Is there something about your excavation that holds a special fascination for them?”
    â€œI told you, I am on the cusp of a very significant discovery. There are many archaeologists out there who would love to take over my dig and receive credit for what I find.”
    â€œThose two didn’t strike me as the archaeological type.”
    â€œOf course not—they are just thugs who have been employed by someone else—someone who has instructed them to watch my movements and try to scare me off.”
    â€œI had no idea the field of archaeology was so cutthroat. Do you have any idea who this rival archaeologist might be?”
    â€œNo. Everyone in the British Archaeological Society pretends to scoff at the idea that there is anything of consequence to be found in South Africa, but I believe someone understands the magnitude of the find I am about to make. They think if they can scare me away, I will be willing to sell my land for whatever I can get to the first bidder. They are wrong. I will never leave Africa. And I will never leave my dig until I have unearthed every last relic that is there to be found.”
    â€œI admire your determination.”
    A sliver of hope lit her eyes. “Then will you help me?”
    â€œNo. I am as committed to pursuing my own inventions as you are to finding your African relics, Lady Camelia. I will, however, escort you to your carriage.” He strode down the alley and retrieved her hat.
    â€œI don’t need you to escort me,” Camelia informed him briskly, annoyed that he was still unwilling to help. “I can assure you I am quite capable of getting to my carriage on my own—I do it all the time.”
    â€œIndulge me,” Simon urged, handing her hat to her. “Surely that is the least you can do, to repay me for stealing my sketch?”
    â€œYou just said you didn’t need it anyway.” Camelia jammed the wilted, grimy headpiece onto her head. “You said you had it committed to memory.”
    â€œThen indulge me as a way of repaying me for gallantly coming to your rescue when you were in distress,” Simon suggested. “I must say, I thought my performance as a lovelorn drunkard was particularly brilliant.”
    â€œI appreciate your concern, Mr. Kent, but I didn’t actually need your help. I had the situation well in hand.”
    â€œI suppose if you think being held captive by a seven-foot-tall giant while another man threatens to snuff you and waves a pistol in your face is having it well in hand, then yes, I’d have to say you had the situation going beautifully.”
    â€œI was just about to stab that big man in the thigh when you staggered down the