Free Double Deceit by Allison Lane Page B

be a shy, scholarly man.
    But he wasn’t. Despite a certain wariness – probably due to his cousin’s condition – he was at ease in a drawing room. His looks and manners would make him welcome anywhere. To say nothing of an understated charm and crooked smile that could convince the weak-willed that black was white. So why did he avoid public appearances?
    * * * *
    Tony slowly circled the clearing, fighting to hide his growing excitement. He was a guest. This wasn’t his site.
    The area was at least two hundred feet long and half that wide, larger and richer than anything he had excavated in ten years of work. Hardly a surprise. By avoiding the great estates, he eliminated most of the desirable locations that might hold villas. Digging in towns was impossible unless something turned up while constructing new buildings. So most of his work was at military encampments or small sites on marginal land.
    Yearning filled him as he gazed at the wealth of stone she had already unearthed. Yet most of the clearing was untouched. And completing its exploration was beyond the abilities of one person.
    She had made a good start, but it would take her years to finish. Maintaining secrecy that long would be impossible. Sooner or later a servant would let something slip, or a dare would send a boy into the haunted wood, or Sir Winton would ride out some bright morning on a whim.
    Few trees dotted the clearing, proving that the remains were close to the surface, allowing only grass and shallow-rooted shrubs to flourish. He hoped the floors remained intact, though the likelihood was remote. But if he could find a mosaic…
    He thrust the dream aside. Wishing for the moon was pointless. And this wasn’t his site.
    Evidence of worked stone was everywhere, though only tutored eyes would spot the chisel marks that decorated broken bits. But too much usable stone remained in the temple to believe that it had been abandoned. Roman buildings had been a valuable source of material for centuries, offering quality stone that required little or no dressing.
    He scanned the horizon. The valley was bounded by steep hills and sharp cliffs. A stream meandered through its center. Forest covered this portion of the floor, sloping gently toward the water.
    At a guess, the nearest cliff had collapsed, burying the villa in mud and rock. That would make the site even richer – and bigger – for many of the furnishings would have slid toward the stream. An unexpected burial would offer a unique glimpse of a time he could usually study only in brief flashes.
    He shivered. Just so must Winckelmann have felt when he first beheld the treasures being unearthed at Pompeii and Herculaneum. The man’s Unpublished Relics of Antiquity had exerted a profound influence on his own life ever since he’d discovered it at age fifteen.
    Miss Merideth had probably stumbled onto this site when erosion exposed the temple, but why would she have recognized the stones as significant? Few people could identify dressed stone even when it was not covered in dirt and moss.
    Her comments had become increasingly terse as they approached the clearing, as if she were nervous, though that seemed unlikely. If Mitchell thought her good enough to submit a paper, then she was already more knowledgeable than half the members of the Antiquarian Society. She must know that.
    Lady Luck was finally shining on him. The villa provided the perfect excuse to stay until Miss Vale agreed to wed him. Sir Winton could not return for weeks, so he need not rush his courtship. Miss Vale accepted her companion’s interest in antiquity, which boded well for the future – she would understand his own frequent absences.
    Jon would be relieved that he could abandon last night’s antics.
    “Have you permission to cut any trees?” he asked, noting two that might have to come down.
    “The steward will take care of it once I ask him.”
    “Sir Winton lets his steward take orders from you?”
    She paled.