Page 11 of The Butler and the Bluestocking
Bess stood, moving to the opposite side of the desk to peer at the several characters Kentigern pointed out. Her shoulder brushed his as she bent to see the exact symbols. She dismissed the touch as insignificant. The shivers coursing through her were naught but excitement at new evidence of the theories she was attempting to prove.
“Yes, yes. I see. Young has written to me to pay particular attention to those.” She placed her hand atop his, moving it aside to get a closer look. When had the room become so warm?
“The same pattern of symbols appears here, here, and here.” Kentigern took her hand in a gentle clasp guiding her fingers across the document to the images he wished her to study.
Excitement swirled and trembled in her belly. She felt like a child at Christmastide, leaping from one wonder to the next, and all just for her.
“Young believes these might be phonetic representations for p-t-o-l-m-e-s and hypothesizes that all three texts refer to the Egyptian King, Ptolemy V.” She tried, without much success, for a serious and sober tone as she leaned so close to the desk that her cheek rubbed against Kentigern’s fingers.
“I . . .uh”
At his stutter, Bess turned her head looking up at him across the span of his hand and arm.
He cleared his throat, “I suspect Young meets resistance to that hypothesis because it would indicate the Rosetta Stone postdates the Pharaonic period, which is regarded by many scholars as the high point of Egyptian knowledge and learning.”
“Hmphf.” Bess straightened; her fingers still entwined with Kentigerns. “I’ve never agreed with that opinion. Too many scholars tend to believe that because they cannot understand something it must be of vast importance. Of course, such persons would hardly like to have anyone solve the supposedly important mysteries and debunk their groundless theories. Should I ever attain my dream of publishing and receiving recognition under my own name, I’ll not indulge in such nonsense.”
Kentigern brought himself to his full height, smiling, and took both her hands. “You sound just like my history professor at Edinburgh.”
“You attended university?” She looked up at him. Wonder wide in her eyes.
“I did say I had not always been a butler.” A dimple peeped out from the twisted side of his mouth.
Staring up at the hypnotic depths in his caramel gaze, Beth knew an unaccountable desire to kiss the small depression. How fantastic to have someone with whom to share her research and her dreams. “Have you always been interested in history?”
Some emotion gleamed in his eyes. He swallowed and nodded. “You?”
Suddenly, unaccountably tongue-tied, she mirrored his nod. “A . . . always.”
“Amazing.”
“Yes,” she agreed as she rose on her toes.
He bent toward her.
Their lips met in a kiss delicate as an ancient papyrus scroll. Desire sizzled along her nerves. She’d been kissed before. She knew what lust felt like. But somehow, this was different. Before she could decide how, the kiss ended.
Kentigern stepped back. “I . . . I’m, uh, I am sorry.”
Bess shook her head. “I’m not.”
“But . . .”
“No, I cannot regret such a kiss born of friendship and common interest.”
For a brief moment he looked as if he would dispute her point. Then he gave a slow nod. “Aye, but it will not happen again.”
Perhaps. Short and tender as it was, the kiss had been like no other she’d ever experienced. Most of those had occurred during her one Season. Some had been given with great expertise and left her with inexplicable yearnings. Others had been the bumbling attempts of young men with as little experience of kisses as she. But pleasant or not, she’d never, not once, considered the possibility of kissing the same man twice. Was that what this strange feeling was? Did she want a second kiss from a butler? A butler who knew as much or more than she did about ancient Egypt?
The warmth and hope she’d been feeling fled. “You have not said how you came by your knowledge of the Rosetta Stone and its inscriptions?”
Bess returned to the far side of the desk.
“My interest in history, Egypt especially, has led me to keep abreast of all the published scholarship.”
“And you subscribe to the various scholarly journals.”
The corners of his mouth—that dear mouth—lifted. “I could never afford such on a butler’s salary.”
