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A faint smile. “I enjoyed many things once.”
A pause. The air thickened with unspoken memories of walks at Avonmead, of shared dreams of travel, and of whispers in candlelit libraries.
“Perhaps you will enjoy it again,” he said softly.
Her gaze met his, sharp and searching. “Perhaps.”
Soon the British Museum loomed, a temple of knowledge, its imposing edifice softened by the low winter sun. Sebastian felt a stirring of recollection from his first visit, how remarkable it had been to enter its doors.
Inside, the air smelled of old parchment, polished wood, and the faint chill of stone floors. The soft murmur of scholars and curious visitors echoed through the halls, and Harriet’s face brightened with genuine interest, Sebastian noticed as they came to a stop within its hallowed halls.
“Shall we begin with the Egyptian Room?” he suggested.
“Naturally,” Harriet replied. “Mysteries awaiting discovery, how appropriate.”
The Egyptian Room greeted them with rows of ancient statues and stone tablets adorned with symbols and intricately carved amulets. The air was heavy with dust and age. Harriet stopped before the Rosetta Stone, her gloved fingers hovering just above the glass case. Sebastian himself was awestruck to behold it once more. Arguably the most famous artifact in the entire building, it had drawn crowds for two decades.
“The key to an entire civilization.” Her voice softened. “One stone, unlocking so many secrets.”
Her blue eyes shone as she inspected it closely, and Sebastian was reminded of the discernment of her painted room. Harriet had always been a connoisseur of art, it being one of the many interests they had in common.
If only he had such a key to decipher this woman of secrets who had entangled his thoughts these many years. Sebastian stepped beside her. “Do you believe some mysteries should remain unsolved?”
Harriet turned to him, lips curving into a knowing smile. “No. Not anymore. Understanding the truth, even when uncomfortable, has value.”
Their gazes held.
Was she speaking of more than hieroglyphs?
Sebastian felt the familiar pull of longing. As he had feared, proximity to Harriet might lead to fresh wounds if he did not practice caution. He may have the experience of more years, but the truth was that Harriet seemed more compelling than ever.
“Perhaps,” he murmured, “we are not always prepared for what we discover.”
The Mummies Room was quieter. Heavy sarcophagi lay open, revealing linen-wrapped remains. The scent of resins and faded incense hung in the air. Harriet approached a glass case where a mummy’s delicate fingers peeked from its wrappings. She leaned closer. Sebastian stepped beside her, barely inches away. Their shoulders brushed.
“Do you suppose they feared being forgotten?” Harriet asked.
“Perhaps,” he said, his voice low. “But they ensured they would be remembered. Even in death.”
Their closeness did not escape him. Propriety be hanged. This moment felt intimate in a way no ballroom ever had. One thing was certain. Harriet need never fear being forgotten. Not by him. The memory of her presence on that fateful Valentine’s Day had remained with him across the years—the warmth of her laughter, the brightness in her eyes. Those stolen hours had been the most joyful he had ever known. But followed by the worst, he reminded himself sternly, when she had failed to arrive the next morning at their designated point. It took resolve to remind himself, because it was difficult to think of anything but how her nearness still unsettled him, catching just a trace of her scent in the muted air as she turned away to smile at their chaperone.
Next they visited the Greek and Roman collections, where the Townley Venus stood tall in the Sculpture Room, marble pale and gleaming beneath the filtered daylight. Harriet once again took the lead, approaching slowly. She moved through the gallery with unhurried grace, pausing to study a fragment of carved relief before tilting her face upward toward the great statue, an expression of quiet wonder softening her features.
“Venus, the goddess of love, yet her face is unreadable.”
Sebastian stood beside her, eyes on the statue. “Perhaps she trusts few with her secrets.”
Harriet turned to him, contemplating him for several seconds before she finally responded.
“Do you believe trust is given or earned?”
Sebastian’s gaze did not waver.
“I believe it is broken far too easily.”
The unspoken words, the past betrayal, hung between them. Harriet looked away first, and Sebastian was unsure if he should be relieved or ashamed at the bitter reference to the day she had left him waiting like a fool. It was disorienting to have his thoughts turn back and forth between what could have been, what could be, and the proven hazards of allowing his guard to drop.
The sound of their footfalls echoed through mostly empty halls as they reached the fragments of the Elgin Marbles. Grand and stark, the horsemen, gods, and mortals were frozen in stone.
