Betina Krahn (18 page)

“Dodecahedron,” he supplied, folding his arms and settling his gaze on it. “A twelve-sided figure. It was the odd
combination of angles at the ends of the pieces that gave it away. And, of course, twelve is considered a holy number in many civilizations and religions. What better for ‘holy dice’ than an orb with twelve sides?”

Just then Stephan peered around a stack of crates, squinting and searching for Lady Sophia. “Callers, ma’am.”

“Oh?” Lady Sophia turned at the sound of his voice and clutched the silver orb to her bosom. “Who is it, Stephan?” When the houseman presented a card, Lady Sophia read it, made a soundless O, and handed it immediately to Celeste.

“Mr. Cherrybottom? Here?” Celeste looked up from the card with fresh anxiety washing over her. “What could he possibly be doing here?”

But in truth, as she hurried for the door with Nana and Titus Thorne not far behind, she realized that there could be only one reason for him to abandon his demanding business and journey all the way from London. He was eager to get on with preparations for his new edition of her book, and had come to see how her “proof” had been received. She wilted inside. What on earth would she tell him?

She paused in the arched doorway, finding not one but
two
male figures awaiting her.

The portly publisher turned from the sea-facing windows with a hearty smile and met her halfway across the long room. “Miss Ashton! How wonderful you look—the very picture of health!” He pressed an exuberant kiss on her hand, then drew her back toward the window and his traveling companion. “Isn’t she simply the loveliest, most adorable creature you’ve ever seen, Bentley?”

“The very most adorable,” came the reply, in soft, masculine tones that were both unsettling and familiar.

“And here is Grandmama.” Cherrybottom deposited her hand in the stranger’s and hurried over to Nana. “Lady Sophia. Radiant, as always. And of course our splendid professor.”

Celeste searched both the stranger and her memory, feeling a bit flustered under his admiring gaze. She finally recalled
the face, if not the name, as he led her toward her grandmother and Cherrybottom in the middle of the chamber.

“I don’t know if you will remember Mr. P. T. Bentley,” Cherrybottom said. “I introduced him to you as we were leaving your marvelous lecture in Knightsbridge. He’s an American, deeply interested in marine science. We’ve dined together twice since that fortuitous meeting, and when I mentioned that I had half a notion to come and see your dolphins for myself, he would not rest until I agreed to bring him along.” The publisher beamed in impish apology. “I could scarcely say him nay and disappoint your most devoted admirer.”

“Mr. Cherrybottom flatters me.” Bentley’s blond head poised over her hand with a perfect blend of restraint and eagerness. “But in truth, I have thought of little besides your work, since the moment I purchased your book, more than a month ago.”

“Welcome, Mr. Bentley,” Lady Sophia declared with a twinkle in her eye. “You’ll stay with us for a few days, won’t you, Mr. Cherrybottom? I won’t hear of you saying no.”

Arrangements were made for his room, and Lady Sophia called for refreshments to wash the dust from their throats. By the time the lemonade arrived, the old lady’s offer of hospitality had been expanded to include Bentley, and the American had installed himself discreetly at Celeste’s side.

“Well, what do you think of Miss Ashton’s dolphins, now, Professor?” Cherrybottom asked as he settled his bulk into a sturdy wooden chair.

She froze in the midst of a sip of lemonade and peered over the rim of the glass at Titus Thorne.

“My opinion has had little opportunity to change,” he responded with a wry smile. “Miss Ashton’s dolphins seem to have taken an extended holiday.”

Cherrybottom looked to her in some confusion. “Holiday? What? Do you mean to say—”

“They aren’t here,” Titus answered.

“They usually don’t travel far from Pevensey Bay in summer,” she said calmly. “It’s just taking them a bit longer than usual to get here.”

“But they will be here?” Cherrybottom prompted.

“Of course they will,” Lady Sophia declared. “Naughty beasties. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were out in the cove this very minute, playing hide-and-seek.”

“Do you intend to call your dolphins again today, Miss Ashton?” Bentley asked, engaging her attention a bit too directly and holding it for a bit too long. She felt her cheeks reddening under his potent admiration.

“Yes, I do. Perhaps out in the boat.”

“You’ll go sailing?” Bentley slid one of his hands over hers as it lay on her lap and lifted it as if it were a great treasure. His voice dropped to a soft, penetrating rumble. “I would consider it one of the highlights of my life if you would permit me to accompany you, Miss Ashton.”

When she nodded assent, Bentley turned to the publisher with his eyes silvering with excitement. “This is too much to credit, Cherrybottom. To join the famous Miss Ashton on a genuine dolphin hunt …”

“Scarcely a ‘hunt,’ sir,” she said, lowering her eyes.

“Nothing quite so thrilling,” Titus Thorne put in with a sardonic edge. “But then, some men are more easily amused than others.”

“My boat is not large. I’m afraid I cannot take everyone.” She glanced at Titus Thorne. “Perhaps, Professor, you would stay behind and permit Mr. Bentley to take your place.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied vehemently. They all stared at him in surprise. “As you have so often pointed out, Miss Ashton … in order to appreciate your work, I should be there to experience every aspect of it.”

“But I thought, in view of your unfortunate—”

“A temporary inconvenience.” He dismissed the subject of his seasickness with a wave.

In the end, it was the accommodating Cherrybottom
who decided to stay behind. By the time they started down the cliff path, a quarter of an hour later, Titus was wondering what had possessed him to volunteer—nay—
demand
to hazard life and limb once more in Celeste’s pathetic sieve of a vessel. The salt air must be corroding his mental faculties at an alarming rate.

He glowered as he watched the dapper, drawling Bentley sprint ahead to catch Celeste and use the uncertain footing of the soft sand as a pretext for claiming her arm. He watched the way she smiled at the handsome American and the way their shoulders sometimes brushed as they trudged along. It set his teeth on edge.

Here, he told himself, was the true Celeste Ashton, the wily, alluring mermaid. Her seduction hadn’t worked on him, but Bentley was another story entirely. The man was already besotted. Just look at him; hanging on her every word, gazing at her as if she were some decadent sweet, and using every excuse to put his hands on her. Wait until he’d spent three hours in her leaky boat, on a heaving, churning sea, with the wind and spray lashing him, Titus thought, smiling. He wouldn’t look so eager then.

Bentley offered to cast off the line and Celeste thanked him, then climbed down into the boat. Bentley joined them in the boat, planting himself on the middle seat.

“You really ought to move, old man,” Titus finally said from his seat in the stern. “You’ll be knocked off if you sit there.”

“I shall be fine here, Professor,” Bentley said with a faintly superior smile. “I’m quite accustomed to dodging the boom. I run a sloop at my home on the Chesapeake, a vessel considerably larger than this. But I learned to sail in a catboat much like this one.” He smiled at Celeste, who was nudging the bow out to catch the breeze. “This rather brings it all back to me.”

The annoying American proved to be as good as his word, anticipating the boom’s movements and adroitly ducking from one side to the other when Celeste made a
change to sail across the wind. Titus’s spirits sank as they hit the rougher waters of the open sea and Bentley remained untroubled by the boat’s heaving motions.

Worse, yet, when Bentley tried his hand at rapping out her dolphin call, the blasted American had no trouble picking up the right rhythm. And he seemed equally adept at pulling soft smiles and admiring comments from her.

“Still no luck?” Titus said, when he could bear watching no longer.

Celeste stood up, shaded her eyes, and searched the water for some sign of her dolphins. When it became clear that the trip would end in disappointment, she sank down on her seat and gave Bentley an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear Celeste,” Bentley said, putting his hand over hers on the tiller. “It has been a pure delight, being out here with you.”

“We can try again tomorrow, Peter,” she said, her face rosy with pleasure as she gazed at his hand, atop hers.

“Celeste” and “Peter” now, were they? Titus thought. The bounder had known her for all of four hours and already they were onto first names, while he was still calling her Miss Ashton and she addressed him as “professor” when she could bear to speak to him at all. Out of sheer stubbornness he refused to give up the middle seat to Bentley, and doomed himself to spend the inward journey either ducking, crouched in anticipation of ducking, or with a sail flapping in his face.

Mr. Cherrybottom and Lady Sophia met them at the dock, eager to learn the results of their trip.

“Not a single dolphin? How disappointing,” Cherrybottom said in dismay, as he watched first Bentley, then Celeste climb the ladder. Then Titus started up, and the publisher rushed to assist. “Here, Professor, let me lend you a hand.”

“I am perfectly fine,” Titus snapped.

Cherrybottom backed off with a dubious look and Titus made an athletic leap from the last rung onto the dock and
straightened. Sensing they were staring at him, he ran his hands back through his hair. It was standing on end. And his borrowed sweater—which had managed to collect a good bit of spray—was sagging badly. Bentley, however, had not so much as a hair out of place.

“Are you sure you’re—” Celeste began, with a slight frown.

“I am perfectly fine, Miss Ashton.” He clamped a hand over his stomach. “Never felt better in my life.”

They were halfway across the beach before it struck Titus that he had spoken the truth. Lagging behind the others, he halted and felt of his stomach. He did feel perfectly well. In fact, other than a few internal rumbles as they had gotten under way, he had felt fine the entire time they were on the water. He hadn’t been seasick at all.

The realization stunned him. He had been so busy concentrating on Celeste and the attention the irksome Bentley was showing her, that he temporarily forgot about being ill. He paused halfway up the cliff to look back at the boat and the serene waters of the cove, feeling mildly alarmed. Three boat trips with Celeste Ashton had made more of an impact on him than he could ever have imagined possible. If three days and three boat trips with her had that much effect on him, what else might be happening to him?

D
INNER THAT NIGHT
was pleasant enough. The conversation was genial, the food plain but delicious, and there was only a passing reference to Atlantis … which gave Lady Sophia a chance to explain to Bentley her preference for classical garments. It was only when Mr. Cherrybottom expressed some concern over the missing dolphins, and pressed Celeste for some estimate of when they might make themselves available, that things became a bit strained.

Celeste shot a glance at her grandmother and strove to appear unconcerned. “We, who are accustomed to dealing with nature, learn early on that there are some things that
cannot be rushed. Dolphins, it would seem, are among them. All we can do, Mr. Cherrybottom, is call them and wait.”

Her combined scientific wisdom and air of assurance was apparently convincing enough to end that line of questioning. But, inside, Celeste felt as if she had just confessed to being a felon. She had studied and observed and swum with dolphins for years … more than half of her life. Suddenly none of that mattered; it was as if those hundreds of hours were all a sort of pleasant but irrelevant dream. She couldn’t produce the creatures now—this very minute—before the scrutiny of the scientific world and her impatient publisher, and she felt like a total failure.

She managed to swallow a few bites of food and tried to listen to Mr. Bentley’s description of his home in Virginia. But as the minutes dragged by, all she could think about was what would happen if her dolphins didn’t come in the next day or two. She had precious few days left with Titus Thorne.

Then she looked up from her plate and found him staring at her, his brow knitted and his mouth tight with disapproval. Her heart sank even further. It was no longer just a matter of validating her scientific methodology. More than anything, she wanted to prove her truthfulness and integrity to him. She wanted to see surprise melt his skepticism when Prospero came leaping out of the water … to see delight warming his chilly authority when Ariel towed him across the cove … to witness his resurrected awe at the spectacle of Thunder and Echo rising up out of the water on their flukes and “walking the water” in perfect synchrony. She wanted to expose his skeptical nature to the magic of encountering her beloved creatures in their own element. She wanted to see that special joy in his sea-green—

“W-what?” She blushed, aware they were all staring at her. “I apologize. I’m afraid I was gathering wool.”

Bentley smiled adoringly. “Your grandmother just suggested
that you show me something called a ‘moonlight collection’ in your garden.”

She forced a pleased expression. “I would be delighted to do so.”

“I'll have Stephan bring our coffee into the drawing room,” Lady Sophia said, beaming in her most inscrutable way. “Join us when you come in.”

The garden was bathed in both moonlight and dew by the time they set out along the path. Titus Thorne had risen from the table to accompany them, but was diverted by her grandmother, who insisted he join her and Mr. Cherrybottom in the library for a look at some of her artifacts. Celeste saw his dark look following her as she led Bentley to the front doors, and the suspicion in it stayed with her. There she was, that look said, pulling Bentley off into a darkened garden for a bit of whatever it was lascivious mermaids did in the dark.