Free Quick, Amanda by Wicked Widow

ton."
    "There is that." Bernice paused. "Interesting that we have heard no names dropped, as it were. What do
    you think is going on?"
    "Who can tell with a Vanza master?" Madeline swung around and began to pace the library. "But there is
    something about him."
    "Something? "
    "Yes." Madeline waved a hand as she struggled to find words to explain what her intuition told her was
    true.
    "He is certainly not your typical gentleman of the ton. It is as if he were made of something more
    substantial than the usual denizens of the social world. He is a hawk among moths."
    "Presumably a mature yet still agile hawk among moths, eh?" A distinctly amused gleam lit Bernice's vivid
    eyes. "What an interesting description. So poetical. Almost metaphysical in tone."
    Madeline glared. "You find my description of Hunt humorous? "
    Bernice chuckled. "My dear, I consider it to be vastly reassuring."
    That brought Madeline to a halt. "Whatever do you mean by that? "
    "After your experience with Renwick Deveridge, I had begun to fear that you would never again take a
    healthy interest in the male of the species. But now it seems I had no reason to be concerned, after all."
    Shock left Madeline speechless. When she finally pulled herself together, she still could not think of
    anything coherent to say.
    "Aunt Bernice. Really."
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    "You have kept yourself closeted away from the world for a year now. Perfectly understandable, given
    all that you went through. Nevertheless, the entire affair would have amounted to an even greater tragedy
    if it transpired that you never recovered your natural womanly feeling. I take your evident interest in Mr.
    Hunt as an excellent sign."
    "I am not interested in him, for heaven's sake." Madeline stalked back toward the bookcase. "At least
    not in the way you mean. But I am convinced that now that he knows about Papa's journal, it will be
    extremely difficult to get rid of him. So we may as well make good use of him, if you see what I mean."
    "You could simply give Hunt the journal," Bernice said dryly.
    Madeline stopped in front of the bookcase. "Believe me, I thought of that."
    "But?"
    "But we are in need of his expertise. Why not strike a bargain for his skills? Two birds with one stone
    and all that." She was falling back on a great many proverbs this morning, she reflected.
    "Why not, indeed?" Bernice looked thoughtful. "It is not as if we have a lot of choice in this affair."
    "No, we do not." Madeline glanced at the bells on the shutters. "In fact, I suspect that if we do not offer
    to give Mr. Hunt the journal in exchange for his services, he will pay us a visit some dark night and help
    himself to the bloody book."
    The following morning Madeline put down the pen she had been using to make notes and closed the
    slim, leather-clad book she had been attempting to decipher.
    Decipher was, indeed, the appropriate word, she decided. The little book was very old and well worn.
    It was a handwritten jumble of apparently meaningless phrases. As far as she could determine, the words
    were a mix of ancient Greek, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and the old, long-dead language of Vanzagara. It had
    been delivered three weeks earlier after a long and complicated journey from Spain and had intrigued her
    immediately. She had set to work on it at once.
    Thus far she had made no headway, however. The Greek was simple enough, but the words she had
    translated made no sense. The hieroglyphs were a great mystery, of course, although she had heard that
    Mr. Thomas Young was developing an interesting theory concerning Egyptian writing based on his work
    with the Rosetta stone. Unfortunately, he had not yet published his analysis.
    When it came to the ancient language of Vanzagara, she knew herself to be one of a very small handful
    of scholars who stood any chance of translating even a portion of the text. Very few people outside the
    family were aware of her