Page 19 of Marigold and the Marquess
To add to his stupid misery, he had no intention of courting Marigold.
Were he capable of thinking with the brain in his head instead of the brainless organ between his legs, he would have avoided Marigold as one might avoid a fatal disease.
Why risk the distraction?
This was her Season to find a husband.
But this was his Season for revenge.
Finding out who had set him up for ambush and left him to rot in an enemy prison was his priority.
Killing this man was at the top of his list of things to do.
Falling in love was never contemplated and not on his list at all.
Marigold released his arm and hurried to her crate the moment they entered the Duke of Huntsford’s office. It already lay open, her precious skull perched on top. “There you are, my beauty,” she crooned. “Aunt Hortensia, come have a look.”
“Not on your life. Mr. Smythe-Owens, ring for tea. I shall settle myself here and read my book while you and Marigold do whatever ghoulish thing you do with those bones.”
“At once, Madam,” he said, bowing and scraping as though Hortensia was indeed a royal consort gracing the museum with a visit. He called to a young man walking along the hall. “Send up a tea cart for our guests, Mr. Wilson. Cups and plates for four.”
Hortensia now turned to Leo. “And what shall you be doing while they work?”
“Helping them out, if they will allow me.”
Marigold nodded. “That is most generous of you, my lord. Yes, I think we shall need your help as we begin to set up this new exhibit display. Neither Mr. Smythe-Owens nor I have the height required or the brawn. There will be climbing and lifting involved.”
“Ever at your service.” He gave a slight bow, and then folded his arms across his chest while waiting for the work to begin.
To Marigold’s credit, she was an engaging tutor and surprisingly knowledgeable about these artifacts. She had an eager lilt to her voice as she explained the significance of each item lifted from the crate. Next, she set them out upon the floor of the duke’s large office in what appeared to be some sort of pattern. “Miss Farthingale, the duke has a large table in the corner,” he said, motioning to what was an elegant conference table. “Why do you not use that?”
She laughed lightly. “It is far too small.”
He shook his head. “But it easily fits ten men around it.”
“This flying creature is five times the size of the table. You’ll see, won’t he Mr. Smythe-Owens?”
The curator chuckled. “Indeed, Miss Farthingale.”
Leo was not convinced. Since these bones had easily fit into the crate, how could they now dwarf the long table? However, as each piece was placed in its position on the floor, he realized these bones did not comprise a complete set but were merely remnants of a giant creature. Marigold and the curator were kneeling on the floor, as though figuring out pieces of a puzzle that would form a portrait of this ancient animal.
The skull was easiest to place since it was obviously the animal’s head.
As they began to lay out more bones, Leo saw these fragments actually begin to take the form of enormous wings that spanned the entire width of the room. Some of the bones were part of its legs and talons. Each talon alone was the length of Leo’s forearm.
Good grief.
Was it possible such an animal had once existed?
This explained why they had not bothered to set up on the table.
He rested on his haunches beside Marigold, genuinely intrigued. “How can you tell what fits where?”
“I was not adept, at first. But Duchess Adela’s friends, Lady Sydney Harcourt and Lady Gregoria Easton have specialized medical knowledge and taught me all they could while with us at the Devonshire caves. Their anatomical expertise is invaluable.” She tried not to rake her gaze over his body, but he caught her blush as her eyes darted up and down the length of him.
He grinned, knowing the little minx wanted to examine his anatomical structure in thorough detail.
Well, why not?
