My Lady, My Spy (Secrets and Seduction Book 4) (17 page)

He grinned, clearly relishing his ability to rattle her.

They descended the stairs behind their guide and followed him through a maze of corridors.

She cleared her throat again. “I’m here specifically to learn more about a relatively recent discovery. I’m interested in a particular Lycian tomb that a British archaeologist, Charles Fellows, unearthed in the early 1840s. The temple appears to be designed in the Greek style, but Mr. Fellows found it in Lycia. Experts from many fields are examining it. Mr. Beasley was generous enough to agree to meet with me today.”

“Not my field of knowledge,” Frederick said. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

He seemed uncomfortable. Restless. Was it due to the confined space? “Perhaps the friezes of battle scenes from the temple will be of interest to you.”

A moment later their guide stopped in front of a door and rapped sharply on the frame. “Lady Harrington and—” he paused and glanced at Frederick.

“Mr. Woolsy,” Frederick said.

“— and Mr. Woolsy to see you.”

The door swung open, and Josephine found herself facing a man who was quite a bit younger than she’d expected. His skin held the healthy glow of a man who spent time outdoors, and he had an athletic build which led her to believe he wasn’t purely an academic, but also spent time at archaeological sites.

When Mr. Beasley smiled and took her hand, Josephine sensed Frederick stiffen. Frederick flicked his gaze over the curator, blatantly assessing him, but Mr. Beasley seemed unaware.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Harrington,” Mr. Beasley said. He glanced at Frederick with interest. “I hadn’t realized you were bringing a guest.”

Josephine introduced the two men. “Mr. Woolsy has an interest in the Persian and Ottoman empires.”

“Oh,” he said, his interest fading. “Not really my field of expertise, but given the location of the tomb, I’m sure you’ll find this of some interest. I’m afraid I might not be able to help you regarding those empires. I know little about them. My specialty is in Greek antiquities.”

“Was a cache of items from ancient Greece found in Lycia?” Frederick asked.

“What?” Mr. Beasley wrinkled his brow. “Of course not. I thought you knew. Mr. Fellows’s discovery is an oddity. His monument is a place out of time. We think the structure dates from some 400 years after the nexus of Greek influence.” As he talked, he turned his back on them and locked the door to his office. “The statuary and frescoes are astonishing. Mr. Fellows dismantled the entire monument and shipped it here to the British Museum. We’re dedicating a permanent space where we can have it on display.” He began walking down the corridor and waved for them to follow him. “Lady Harrington asked to see the statues of the Nereids and the notes from the archaeological excavation of the site.”

Frederick glanced at her. “You mentioned you wanted to travel there. Is this why?”

She nodded, pleased that he’d remembered. “When do you expect to have the exhibit open to the public?” she asked the curator.

“That won’t be for quite some time. I doubt it will be before 1860. Perhaps not even until 1865, given the complexity of the task. One can’t rush this sort of work.”

Mr. Beasley pushed his way through a large door and into an enormous storage area. Josephine stopped momentarily, astonished by the immense size of the space. “Is this where you store museum items not currently on display?”

“Here, and in other locations around London. The pieces we’re currently restoring or researching are kept close at hand for convenience.” He gestured toward the rows upon rows of shelves. “We’re constantly adding to the museum, and every item passes through this room.”

He began making his way down a wide aisle, and Josephine hurried to keep up with him. “Are all the items from the monument stored here?”

“Yes. The location of our storage rooms makes examining them convenient.” He paused at a cross-corridor in the storage area and turned left, then made a quick right. “Here we are.”

Josephine stopped, stunned, facing a group of headless female statues, all wearing flowing gowns. “These are amazing,” she said, her voice breathless. She moved closer, leaning in to examine one. “I heard that some believe Mr. Fellows’s discovery is a monument to the Nereids since there are so many statues of them.”

“That’s one of the working theories.”

“What are Nereids?” Frederick asked.

Mr. Beasley looked at him with surprise. “Oh, that’s right. You aren’t a Greek scholar. I’d nearly forgotten. Nereids are Greek water nymphs. Of course, that might be imposing too much Greek culture on a Lycian monument. As I’m sure you might guess, the monument is likely to be of Persian origin, but we simply don’t know enough yet to declare that with complete certainty. But I digress. You asked about the Nereids. In Greek myth, they often accompany Poseidon and are reputed to come to the aid of sailors fighting storms.”

Frederick cocked an eyebrow. “A sort of mermaid? But
not
a mermaid.”

Josephine glanced at Frederick. “Unlike mermaids, Nereids symbolize everything that is good and kind about the sea. They’re often depicted wearing white gowns and crowns of red coral, dancing about as they serve as Poseidon’s escort.”

Frederick glanced at the larger-than-life headless statue of a woman in a flowing gown. “And this is a Nereid?”

Josephine nodded as she stepped closer to Mr. Beasley to examine the neck of the statue. “It’s a shame her head is missing.”

“They were all missing when the monument was discovered,” Mr. Beasley said. “Probably stolen long ago by locals. I assume they currently decorate some wealthy man’s garden or dining hall.”

“Such a shame,” Josephine said, and patted Mr. Beasley’s forearm. “It’s good that people like you want to protect the monuments. Otherwise, they’d continue to be vandalized.”

Mr. Beasley shrugged. “Some might consider Mr. Fellows the vandal since he took the entire monument. It’s a shame he didn’t take better notes before dismantling it.”

Frederick stepped between Josephine and Mr. Beasley in what struck her as a decidedly possessive move, but Mr. Beasley seemed oblivious. “Do you have pieces of the frieze as well?” Frederick asked. “The battle scenes?”

Mr. Beasley nodded. “They’re stored here.” He indicated some wooden crates. He shifted a smaller box to one side and then opened a larger one sitting behind it. Once the lid was off, Josephine could only see packing material— sawdust and wood shavings. Mr. Beasley brushed it to one side to uncover the carved stone frieze.

“Oh, my.” She reached out to touch the cold stone. “It’s so detailed,”

“You’ll note the man in the chair is dressed in the Persian style,” Mr. Beasley said.

Josephine leaned closer to peer at the frieze. “The men standing in front of him appear to be wearing Greek style robes. I can see why this particular monument has brought so many researchers together.”

A young man dressed in one of the museum’s uniforms rushed toward them, a frantic look in his eyes. “Mr. Beasley, may I have a word with you? There’s been an incident.”

Josephine took a step back as Mr. Beasley rushed forward in alarm. In his haste, he tripped over the small heavy box he’d previously moved to one side. Frederick caught him by the elbow just in time to keep him from falling.

“Thank you. Thank you,” Mr. Beasley said, clutching Frederick’s shoulder as he caught his balance. “Would you excuse me for a few moments? If I’m not back by the time you’re ready to leave, please don’t feel you must wait for me. If you can’t find he way, anyone here can help.”

“Thank you, Mr. Beasley,” Josephine said. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

He hurried off, in whispered conversation with the younger man.

Frederick reached out and touched the box holding the section of the frieze. “I’m glad I came with you today,” he told her. “Seeing this has been eye-opening. I never really thought about the displays in the British Museum. They’re more relevant than I’d realized. It helps keep things in perspective.”

Josephine raised an eyebrow. “Relevant? How so?”

Frederick gestured toward a frieze panel depicting two soldiers putting a captive to death. “War and politics were as prevalent then as they are now.”

Josephine stared at the frozen scene. “War has always been a part of life.”

Frederick shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be. A strong society can stand against it. We have a stable government here in England. Our people live in safety and security. Our lands aren’t at risk of being overrun. That’s all because we have a strong government and a stable society. That’s why it’s important to defend the Crimean Peninsula against Russian incursion. If Czar Nicholas seizes control of the region, he’s certain to restrict access to that waterway as well and prevent other nations from using it. That could deal a direct blow to the British economy.”

She took a step closer to him. “Is that why you do what you do? Is that why you’re a spy? Because you want to defend England?”

Frederick nodded. “I believe in our country. I believe in keeping it strong.”

Pride filled her. “I admire that about you.”

Some of Frederick’s tension seemed to leave his shoulders. “I’m relieved to hear that.” He moved closer. “There are some things I need to tell you. It’s important to me that you know them. Hardly anyone outside my family does.”

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat, and she hesitated before she spoke. “Then why tell me?”

“I trust you, and I need your guidance. Your advice.”

His eyes locked with hers, and all she could do was nod.

“I haven’t been fair to you these past two weeks. You’re right. I was avoiding you at first. Not because I didn’t care, but because I did.”

She shook her head, confused. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“There’s something you don’t know about me. About my family. Something we’ve kept hidden for years. It has to do with my father.”

“Your father?” That didn’t make sense. “What does he have to do with us?”

Frederick let out a sigh. “Nothing. Everything. He’s been dead for fifteen years, but his mistakes still haunt my family.” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll simply tell you. Fifteen years ago, my father was on the verge of being arrested for treason. He committed suicide rather than face the shame.”

Her jaw dropped and she covered her mouth, but Frederick barely seemed to notice. He just kept talking.

“Two nights ago, Robert found the evidence Queen Victoria has been searching for that proves our father was guilty. He showed it to me yesterday morning.”

Josephine took a stumbling step backward and placed her gloved hand on one of the Nereids to keep from falling. “So, he’s guilty? There’s no doubt?”

“None.”

“Did he turn over secrets to a foreign government?”

Frederick’s eyes widened. “No. Nothing like that. Not that his crimes weren’t bad enough. He forged the Great Seal of the Realm and used it to falsify documents and swindle investors.”

Josephine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was bad, yes. Very bad. But it could have been so much worse.

Frederick ran his hand through his hair. “The Queen knew the documents were forged and immediately began searching for the culprit. Father was quite clever. He’d managed to distance himself from his original partners and made it appear as though they were the guilty parties. Everyone involved was questioned at length, but eventually the investigators began to focus their efforts on my father. He decided the only way out was to kill himself.”

Josephine exhaled sharply. “That’s terrible!” She pressed her fist to her mouth as she tried to compose herself. “I’m so sorry, Frederick. I’d heard rumors that your father had committed suicide, but I’ve never heard even a whisper of treason. You were so young when he died.” She shook her head, bemused. “When did you learn about his crimes?”

“I found out a couple of years after he died. The truth came as a blow— like losing him all over again.” Frederick shook his head. “In a way, ignorance really is bliss.”

“I’m not certain I believe that. I suppose it depends on the nature of the lie— on its consequences. If it impacts me, I’d rather go through life knowing the truth than have it sprung upon me. It would be terrible to build your life upon a foundation of lies. Life isn’t neat and pretty. It’s messy and complicated. If we don’t know the truth, we can’t make good decisions.”

“That’s why I wanted to tell you about my father.” He swept closer to her, taking both her hands in his. Her breath caught at the intensity of his gaze.

She tensed. Something important was about to happen. She’d need to keep her wits about her. She couldn’t allow herself to submit to Frederick’s charm. Not again.

He gripped her hands more firmly. “In all conscience, I couldn’t pursue a deeper relationship with you without revealing this secret. It simply wouldn’t be fair.”

She felt her resolve weaken. “That’s a noble attitude.” The word caught on her tongue. Noble. That was Frederick. A noble liar. She tensed. She couldn’t let herself ignore all the lies he told her. Not now. She pulled her fingers from his grasp. She couldn’t put her heart at risk with this man. “What do you plan to do?”