Page 61 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“Ready?” he whispered.

She nodded, too tired to engage in conversation, and shuffled beside him like a sleepwalker. He reached for her hand, holding it tight as he led their small traveling party along the fog-shrouded streets. They had a long day ahead.

Jonathan said they wouldn’t reach the base of Mount Parnitha until tomorrow. It was safer to sleep beneath the stars than seek lodging, if they could even find a household willing to take them in. Limiting contact would make it easier to protect their identities.

A frisson of excitement passed through her, leaving her a little more awake. She hadn’t camped outdoors since she was a girl.

“I hope you packed blankets,” she said, clasping her cloak around her to keep out the chill.

Thankfully, she had donned linen trousers beneath her split gown. Their maid Joy had helped her alter her wardrobe before leaving London so she would be prepared to join Uncle Charles in the field. Little had she known then how dangerous his latest expedition was.

Had it caught him by surprise, too—learning the mercenaries were real and still active? She couldn’t put the pieces together yet, but he must have started following Lord Geoffrey for a reason.

It certainly didn’t fall under the usual duties of an antiquarian, which likely accounted for the icy boulder sitting in her gut. Uncle Charles was defenseless against the warriors, and so were she and Jonathan if they were seen as a threat.

“Traveling performers,” she murmured. “Are you truly that good at drumming?”

He chuckled. “Passable, I think. Though it would be more believable if you agreed to dance.”

She laughed lightly, too. “I draw. You dance. Remember?”

“I recall our agreement, but I truly would like to see how you respond to drumming. It’s different for everyone.”

“Do you want me in a trance, sir? No, don’t answer. Clearly you do. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be awake at this ungodly hour.”

He glanced at her, eyes crinkling with amusement. Now that the early morning mist was lifting and wisps of purple and pink fanned across the sky, she could make out his features. And heavens above, he was handsome.

“Surely, my antiquarian bride isn’t a late sleeper.”

She trained her gaze on the road, her palm growing slick inside her glove. The marriage was simply a ruse, but she loved that he had called her his bride. No, antiquarian bride, as if her future plans needn’t change if they were truly husband and wife.

“Perhaps you should introduce me as an artist. No one will believe the other.”

He shrugged. “What little imagination others have, but you’ll prove them wrong.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers back. “Just imagine what we would accomplish if we collaborated.”

“I do imagine,” he said, “and fondly.”

As they walked north, the sun burned away morning dew and eventually her boots dried. They passed through olive groves and vineyards on ancient stone roads. She lifted her face, reveling in the feel of warm sunlight on her skin.

At Acharnae, she shed her cloak and welcomed Jonathan’s suggestion to stop at the village well, where two women balanced jugs on their shoulders, smiling shyly at them before heading back toward their homes. Jonathan hauled the bucket from the cool depths, and together they replenished their skins and watered the donkey.

They continued north, skirting a small farm settlement with flocks of sheep on a distant hill appearing like clouds. The landscape grew rockier the further they traveled. Cypress trees and wild thyme grew among the crevices, their calming fragrances carrying on a breeze.

Whenever they encountered ruins, Jonathan suggested they stop so Evangeline could sketch them, though she suspected it was an excuse to allow her a rest. She was active at home, but walking in steep terrain sapped her strength. It would take time to adjust once she was in the field permanently.

“How do you prepare for an expedition?” she asked. “Physically, I mean.”

He secured the donkey to a tree and sat next to her on the uneven rock.

“It takes time in the beginning. I try to do more each day, but I have to be patient in an unfamiliar environment. Should we stop earlier than planned today?”

“No, resting helps.” She swiveled toward him. “I’m not sure patience is the answer now. I didn’t want to say anything in front of my sister, but I’m worried about my uncle.”

The muscles in his jaw bulged. “Your uncle knows how to take care of himself.”

“How do you know?” She passed her water skin to him, and he took a swig, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Her gaze lingered on his lips. She turned away and took a hefty drink.