Page 19 of Playing the Scoundrel

“This is an interpretation of Perseus and Andromeda. She was imprisoned for her beauty and chained to a rock to be sacrificed to a sea monster. But Perseus, witnessing the event from above on his winged horse, flew down to slay the beast and save her. They fell in love and married, and it’s said they still fly together in the stars above to this day.”

Noticing she was smiling out of joy from the story, Emma stopped and pressed her lips together. She wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her bluestocking tendencies, and it likely wouldn’t do her any favors trying to win his affection. When she looked over at him, his arms were folded across his chest, a contented smile graced his his lips, and there was a look in his eyes of blatant amusement, except it also bore a measure of what appeared to be admiration. She could only hope the latter won out.

“I’m sorry to bore you with a story you likely already knew.”

“On the contrary, Miss Follett. You appear to know more than I, and what you shared was quite interesting indeed. I didn’t know you to be such a scholar.”

“Just little things I’ve picked up here and there.” Emma forced a smile.

“Then it wouldn’t interest you to know of the Greek and Roman exhibit in the upstairs gallery?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

A thrill of excitement rippled through her stomach, but she tried to remain calm. “Really? More than these here in the gardens?”

He nodded. “Yes, there’s a good deal more to be found. Various sculptures and marbles, including some Roman sepulchral antiquities.”

Biting her lip to keep from allowing sheer delight from exploding across her features, Emma nodded. It was time to put her plan into action. “Would you be so kind as to escort me, Mr. Godwin?”

“It would be my greatest pleasure,” he said, extending his arm.

Emma placed her hand in the crook of his arm, allowing him to lead her down the walkway. They walked by the women who had been gossiping before and Emma smiled at them in passing, but it was not returned. They were glaring in Emma’s direction, and she could only hope she did not become the next subject of their conversation. But she couldn’t think of that now. She had Mr. Godwin in her literal clutches, so she needed to begin to play her part. Her own seduction, if such a thing were even possible.

“There you are, my boy,” called Mrs. Dunn as they neared. “You’ve come to occupy Miss Follett’s attention away from the artwork, I see?”

“Actually, she’s only humoring my company because I offered to take her to the gallery upstairs for more historical artifacts.”

Mrs. Dunn sighed. “Very well. I will follow behind, but don’t expect me to keep up. These old bones don’t handle stairs as well as they used to.”

“Would you prefer we wait for you, Mrs. Chrissy?” he asked, and Emma wanted to laugh at his insistence of using such an informal name.

“Of course not. I will be right behind you, and I trust you will treat her with absolute honor and discretion in my absence, am I understood?”

Mr. Godwin gave a slight bow. “Implicitly.” Then he continued leading Emma through the doors and back into the museum house, toward the large staircase.

“It seems she is not the scholar you are,” he whispered under his breath.

Emma stifled a laugh that tried to escape out her nose. “Mrs. Dunn is a very intelligent woman, which I’m sure you know.” Then choosing her next words carefully, Emma said, “But she needn’t accompany all my fascination with history as I’m sure she’s lived enough of it on her own.”

Mr. Godwin burst out into unrestrained laughter, the sound echoing around the corridors. Emma’s face burned hot as it drew the attention of other patrons moving up and down the stairs, but to hear him so thoroughly amused and caught off guard made her smile.

“I say, Miss Follett. You are quite witty when you wish to be. One of the many things I admire about you.”

Emma pursed her lips to keep from smiling under his praise, but when they reached the top of the stairs and entered the gallery, her breath caught in her chest at the sight. The wall of white marble was stunning, for it held lines and lines of figures etched into the stone. Emma let out her breath and reached out her fingers to brush against the ancient details, wondering of the stories it held and the things it had seen.

“Are you familiar with these?” Mr. Godwin asked, his voice now different. It wasn’t as intentionally flirty anymore, perhaps because he had seen how the grandeur of it all had impacted her. “All these riders and fighters must have a cause to be so well-preserved here in stone.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do.” Emma tried to keep her voice light. “The stories of the ancient Greeks tell us they were always fighting over something, especially if the gods were involved. They were very spiteful and vindictive, seeing as how most of the constellations we have are from stories of punishment, of one winning over the other.”

“You really are fascinated with Greek history, aren’t you?” he asked, the tease now returning to his voice as he walked beside her.

“Isn’t the whole of London?” Emma pressed. “It’s surely why this exhibit is here in the first place.”

“Yes, but I can tell it’s more with you.”

And yet he didn’t belittle her for it, which was surprising, and Emma decided it was a small thing she could appreciate about him. But still, she needed to change the subject away from herself. “Which Greek god do you think best suits you? They say one’s choice says a great deal about how they perceive themselves.”

Mr. Godwin grew thoughtful for a moment, a lock of hair falling across his forehead, adding to his quiet appeal. “Let’s see. Not Adonis, not Hercules… how about Eros? God of love and masculinity. Do you not think he suits me?”

His eyes dared Emma to agree, but she ducked her head bashfully instead. “I'm certain I don't know you well enough to make such an assertion.”

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