To Dare a Rogue, Lana Williams [read an ebook week txt] 📗

his sister. While a few of her friends such as Margaret might enjoy accompanying her, the idea of James doing so had provided a certain thrill.

He would have an entirely different perspective on the exhibits than anyone else she knew. The outing would be good for him as well. That alone made it worthwhile. The war had obviously affected him deeply.

Did he and Edward ever speak of it? Talking about her own problems certainly helped her. However, she realized that true problems, the ones that couldn't be solved overnight, were difficult to speak of. Rarely was there an easy solution for them.

She couldn't expect James to confide in her when they didn't know each other well. But she hoped that would change after this day. Would he see any benefit to speaking with her? Probably not. Certainly not about such weighty topics as the war. But she intended to try if the right moment came along.

While tempted to give a flippant response to his question she decided against it, wanting him to understand how important this was to her.

“My mother sees little purpose in me learning anything about art, archaeology, or history. She thinks I only need to focus on what I need to know to be a good wife and mother.”

James glanced at her as they arrived at the entrance. “I, for one, applaud your curiosity.”

“Why, thank you.” She smiled. “I very much look forward to several of the exhibits.”

The collections were split into sections, including printed books and manuscripts, Natural History and modern artificial curiosities, and natural and artificial productions.

James held the door for her then glanced around inside with interest. “Where shall we go first?”

“Upstairs,” Charlotte answered confidently. Her maid settled into a chair to wait by the door.

The lower floor held a library of books and while it would be interesting to peruse them, now was not the time. The upper floor held modern works of art, fossils, stuffed birds, and other items.

However, it was the Gallery specifically that most appealed to her as it housed the Greek and Roman sculptures along with Egyptian antiquities and other artifacts.

An under librarian came forward to greet them. “How may we be of assistance today?” he asked with a bow.

James looked at Charlotte, one brow raised.

“The Gallery, please,” she responded. Charlotte would have preferred it if they could wander about on their own, but visitors were escorted by under librarians.

The young man appeared to be of a studious nature with wavy brown hair, glasses, and a small frame. His stature was much different than James whose broad shoulders and confidence suggested he was prepared for anything. Their guide appeared to only be ready to look at books. She had to smile at the comparison.

“What is it?” James asked as their guide, Mr. Jones, led the way across the entrance hall toward the grand staircase.

She shook her head, well aware of the heat filling her cheeks. She had no intention of advising James how handsome she thought he was.

Mr. Jones led them up a flight of stairs with an ornate iron railing and to the right, through several corridors which held beautiful paintings. The house was a pleasure to walk through with decorative embellishments along the walls and above the doorways.

At last, the guide paused in the Gallery where Charlotte drew an appreciative breath at the number of exhibits. She was especially interested in the Parthenon sculptures, a collection of marble architectural decorations from the temple of Athena on the Acropolis in Athens. She had read about them but to see them for herself was another experience altogether.

Even James's presence fell away as she studied the sculpted relief panels depicting the battle between Centaurs and Lapiths at a marriage feast. The display was positively stunning.

She knew from her reading that the Parthenon had been a temple, a church, and a mosque over the centuries. A terrible explosion in 1687 from munitions stored inside left it in ruins.

She glanced over her shoulder at their guide, waiting for him to share some of the details of the amazing sculptures. The condescending look he gave her suggested he didn't think she could be interested or appreciate his knowledge.

His gaze shifted to James, and he quickly cleared his throat and started sharing some of the specifics of each item.

Charlotte drank in the information eagerly, hoping she could remember even half of what he told them. The sculptures were much larger than she'd expected.

They passed a closed door, something that caught her curiosity, considering most of the other doors stood open.

“What's in there?” she asked.

Mr. Jones’s face turned red much to her surprise. “That room contains statues that aren't yet ready for viewing.”

The explanation only made her more curious. Could they be statues of Athena and the virgins? Whatever it was, she dearly wanted to see. A glance at James suggested he was curious as well.

Another guide with several visitors entered the Gallery but much to her relief, they continued past to another area.

Charlotte and James were studying a carved horse’s head when the other guide hurried back into the room.

“I beg your pardon, but I am in need of your assistance, Mr. Jones. One of the visitors, a gentleman, has collapsed.”

“Oh dear.” Mr. Jones looked back and forth between them and his associate, seeming torn as to what action to take.

“Please see to the other visitor,” James encouraged him. “We will wait here for your return.”

“Are you certain?”

“Please hurry,” the other guide urged.

With a tip of his head, Mr. Jones hurried away with his associate.

“I do hope it’s nothing serious,” Charlotte said.

“I’ll make certain they don't need additional assistance.” James strode to the end of the Gallery and paused to look into the other room, apparently watching the group.

Charlotte continued to view the exhibits before her gaze was once again captured by the closed door.

Was it locked? It certainly couldn't hurt to check. With a glance over her shoulder to where James was visible at the end of the room, she stepped to the