a reputation for enjoying the company of young girls.”
Cecily snorted. “That is hardly a great secret. Most men—”
“Very young girls,” he interrupted, hating to tell her, and yet desperate to keep her from allying herself with a man like Carrington. “Eleven, twelve, thirteen years old.”
The color drained from her face.
“How … where?”
“There are certain brothels that cater to such tastes,” Lucas said baldly, “And, unfortunately, his tastes are not so uncommon as one would wish.”
“But he is quite popular,” she said, her outrage beginning to build. “My stepmama is forever going on about what a great man he is.”
“That is because such salacious details are not discussed in polite company. But you may be sure that those men who do know are careful not to let their wives and daughters within an inch of him.”
Lucas watched the play of emotions cross her face as she came to grips with the knowledge that more secrets lurked beneath the surface of the ton than she had previously thought.
“You have convinced me that you are privy to some information that might help me to better assess potential husbands,” she said, finally. “But why would you do it?”
“Your knowledge of the people who accompanied your father and my brother on that last expedition is unsurpassed.”
“But I am hardly the only one who knows them, Your Grace. Any number of people could assist you in this.”
“I think you underestimate the admiration the members of his circle have for your knowledge of the field and the language of the Egyptians.”
Her head tilted as she stared at him.
“You must be mistaken,” she said, frowning. “His cronies are just as opposed to the idea of a lady Egyptologist as my father is.”
Lucas could not help but note that she continued to speak of her father in the present tense, though word in the ton had the man’s death only a matter of weeks, if not days, away. Then again, the gossip of the ton was not known for its accuracy.
“I have read my brother’s correspondence to my mother, and he was of the opinion that you were as knowledgeable, if not more so, as your father when it came to translating the ancient words inscribed on the artifacts he brought back with him from Egypt.”
In fact, his brother had suggested Lucas seek out her help if anything should happen to him. Knowing Will’s propensity to trust too quickly, he had at first exercised his own judgment and ignored his brother’s suggestion. Now, however, he wondered if he hadn’t misjudged both of them.
Cecily’s mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. “Will was always talking nonsense. Though he was kind enough to let me examine certain artifacts they brought back so that I could work on compiling an alphabet of sorts from the inscriptions.”
She looked up at him, her eyes troubled. “He is a good man. And I am sorry for whatever happened to him in Alexandria. I know it must be dreadful for your family—the not knowing.”
“Then help me find out what happened, Miss Hurston.” Lucas took her hand in his again, squeezed it to emphasize his point. “You are the only one who can help me learn what happened to make him disappear. Your father is incapable of speech, and the other men who accompanied them on the expedition are unwilling to talk to someone who is not a part of their inner circle. Whatever your father may have thought of your aspirations to become a scholar in your own right, to these men you are. William admired your intellect, and he made it clear to my mother in his letters that the others did as well.
“Did you know,” he continued, desperate now to make her understand, “that they wanted you to come along on that expedition?”
Cecily’s surprise was palpable.
“What?”
“It’s true,” Lucas said, hoping against hope that she would be swayed by the knowledge. “Will said that the translator, Mr. Gubar, the man from the British Museum who accompanied them, was
Cecily snorted. “That is hardly a great secret. Most men—”
“Very young girls,” he interrupted, hating to tell her, and yet desperate to keep her from allying herself with a man like Carrington. “Eleven, twelve, thirteen years old.”
The color drained from her face.
“How … where?”
“There are certain brothels that cater to such tastes,” Lucas said baldly, “And, unfortunately, his tastes are not so uncommon as one would wish.”
“But he is quite popular,” she said, her outrage beginning to build. “My stepmama is forever going on about what a great man he is.”
“That is because such salacious details are not discussed in polite company. But you may be sure that those men who do know are careful not to let their wives and daughters within an inch of him.”
Lucas watched the play of emotions cross her face as she came to grips with the knowledge that more secrets lurked beneath the surface of the ton than she had previously thought.
“You have convinced me that you are privy to some information that might help me to better assess potential husbands,” she said, finally. “But why would you do it?”
“Your knowledge of the people who accompanied your father and my brother on that last expedition is unsurpassed.”
“But I am hardly the only one who knows them, Your Grace. Any number of people could assist you in this.”
“I think you underestimate the admiration the members of his circle have for your knowledge of the field and the language of the Egyptians.”
Her head tilted as she stared at him.
“You must be mistaken,” she said, frowning. “His cronies are just as opposed to the idea of a lady Egyptologist as my father is.”
Lucas could not help but note that she continued to speak of her father in the present tense, though word in the ton had the man’s death only a matter of weeks, if not days, away. Then again, the gossip of the ton was not known for its accuracy.
“I have read my brother’s correspondence to my mother, and he was of the opinion that you were as knowledgeable, if not more so, as your father when it came to translating the ancient words inscribed on the artifacts he brought back with him from Egypt.”
In fact, his brother had suggested Lucas seek out her help if anything should happen to him. Knowing Will’s propensity to trust too quickly, he had at first exercised his own judgment and ignored his brother’s suggestion. Now, however, he wondered if he hadn’t misjudged both of them.
Cecily’s mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. “Will was always talking nonsense. Though he was kind enough to let me examine certain artifacts they brought back so that I could work on compiling an alphabet of sorts from the inscriptions.”
She looked up at him, her eyes troubled. “He is a good man. And I am sorry for whatever happened to him in Alexandria. I know it must be dreadful for your family—the not knowing.”
“Then help me find out what happened, Miss Hurston.” Lucas took her hand in his again, squeezed it to emphasize his point. “You are the only one who can help me learn what happened to make him disappear. Your father is incapable of speech, and the other men who accompanied them on the expedition are unwilling to talk to someone who is not a part of their inner circle. Whatever your father may have thought of your aspirations to become a scholar in your own right, to these men you are. William admired your intellect, and he made it clear to my mother in his letters that the others did as well.
“Did you know,” he continued, desperate now to make her understand, “that they wanted you to come along on that expedition?”
Cecily’s surprise was palpable.
“What?”
“It’s true,” Lucas said, hoping against hope that she would be swayed by the knowledge. “Will said that the translator, Mr. Gubar, the man from the British Museum who accompanied them, was
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