Awakening The Shy Miss. Bronwyn Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ very efficient. He’ll have his men oversee various aspects of the project so he doesn’t have to train new foremen.’ It was a reminder of what she’d forgotten so easily yesterday. Dimitri Petrovich was a prince, a man who was used to being served, used to commanding and directing others. Travelling with a retinue was to be expected.

      From across the site, Dimitri waved to them, beckoning them over. ‘Ah, there he is,’ her father remarked with a chuckle. ‘Good thing he spotted us. I might not have recognised him today.’ Evie privately disagreed. Dimitri might be dressed like everyone else in durable trousers tucked into dusty boots and a loose cotton shirt of off-white homespun, the clothes of a labourer, not a prince, but she’d know him anywhere. He couldn’t disguise those cheekbones or those eyes.

      ‘Sir Hollis, Miss Milham, welcome!’ He strode towards them, stripping off working gloves as he greeted them. His shirt was open at the neck, showing a patch of tanned skin, and already splotched with sweat and dirt. He’d not only been working, he’d been working hard.

      ‘You must pardon my appearance; we have great hopes for today. We’re excavating the dining room, or what we hope is the dining room.’ He smiled broadly and his enthusiasm was infectious. ‘Let me show you. We have something of a map to work from.’ He led them over to a table set off to the side, an informal work station where papers were weighted down with rocks.

      He picked up a book and turned to a well-marked page. ‘There’s a two-page description of a villa that matches this one in location and there’s a reference to a west-facing dining area to catch the setting sun. If we’re right, we’ve found the villa of General Lucius Artorious.’ The air around him fairly crackled with his excitement and Evie felt her own excitement rise, stoked to its own height by the prospect of the project and by his nearness.

      He passed the book to her father. ‘The account is short, but it’s very detailed. It even names some specific items that were in the home. If we could find them, it would ensure the authenticity of the site.’ He smiled at Evie. ‘We’ve already found some items—nothing that’s listed, of course, but items that suggest a man of social standing and his family were here. Are you ready to draw? I have a workspace set up for you in the cataloguing department.’ His wink was just for her. ‘We use the term “department” very loosely here. I hope our working conditions aren’t too rustic for you, just canvas and some tables, but my assistant, Stefon, is brilliant and he can show you anything you need.’ Some of her excitement defused. An assistant, of course. It wasn’t as if the Prince could work privately with her. It was probably for the best. However would she concentrate on drawing if he was hovering nearby with his smiles and touches? She really had to get over this silliness.

      He took them through the site, gesturing to points of interest as they went. ‘To the left are the cooking facilities. We feed the workers three meals a day. To the right is the “museum” where we keep the items that are already catalogued.’ The site was truly impressive. This place was a little self-contained city. She’d not realised all the services necessary to support such a project. He made an off-hand motion to the left. ‘That tent out there is my private quarters.’

      Tent? Evie stopped to gape. It looked more like a pavilion. It was big and white, and set back from the site, perhaps for privacy. ‘You live out here?’ She quickened her step to keep up with her father and the Prince.

      The Prince nodded. ‘It’s a necessity. One must be vigilant or sites like this are easily vandalised. I’ve found there’s nothing like human presence to deter unwanted attentions.’ He threw an entirely manly glance at her father. ‘It helps that I’m a pretty good shot.’ The two of them laughed together. They seemed to have established an instant rapport that transcended their stations.

      Vandalism? She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact the Prince was camping like a soldier on campaign. No matter how large the tent, outdoor living required a certain amount of concessions, especially if a man was used to living amid royal luxuries.

      ‘This is your workspace, Miss Milham.’ The Prince ushered her under a wide triangular expanse of heavy canvas tied between three trees. Beneath it sat desks and tables with boxes next to them, writing and drawing supplies on them. One other clerk was already busy at work. The Prince held out her chair. ‘The items to draw are here in this box. There are notes attached, I can’t guarantee all the handwriting is legible. The information will have to be recopied with the drawings and we’ll need three copies of each drawing.’

      Evie nodded, sitting down in the chair and taking in her workspace, her mind already organising the task in her head. She was eager to begin. This was no different than the work she did for her father. She surveyed the supplies, assuring the Prince she had all she needed.

      ‘Very well, I will leave you to it, Miss Milham. Again, let me tell you how very grateful I am to have someone of your skills assisting on the project.’ He turned to her father. ‘If I might borrow your expertise as well, Sir Hollis? I have a few questions.’ She watched them go with a smile. When Dimitri had visited, Evie had worried her family would be too casual for him, but now that she’d witnessed on two occasions just how hard he worked to put others at ease, to help them forget he was a prince, she was glad for her father’s easy-going nature. Dimitri seemed to like that her father extended that easy companionship to him. Her father enjoyed a quiet life and offered his hospitality and friendship to all those around him regardless of status. It seemed Dimitri responded to that. Just as she’d responded to his genuine appreciation of her work. Evie shook her head as if to refocus her thoughts. She needed to prove herself, she needed to show Dimitri his confidence in her hadn’t been misplaced. She couldn’t do that if she spent the day staring after him.

      It only took a few minutes to become entirely immersed in the task. There were pencils to sharpen and the pages of fresh journals to cut. Then all was ready. Evie took a deep breath. This was peaceful work, work that was both useful and relaxing. She could lose herself in the drawing just as she did with sewing, her mind absorbed by the process of bringing something to life with a stitch of thread, the shading of a pencil. The first item was a jewelled comb. Evie laid it on her table and began.

      Sketching in the morning was pleasant. There was a light breeze that filtered in regularly, enough to keep the workspace cool without ruffling the papers. Drawing in the afternoon, however, was less pleasant. The breeze had stopped and the heat had increased. So too had the flies. Nothing horrendous, she told herself, swiping at the pesky fly for the hundredth time, merely inconvenient. This wasn’t the desert after all. And she had only to look across the work site to appreciate the comforts of her space. Out in the direct August sun, men laboured with carts and rocks, brushing, sifting, hauling, while they strained and sweated, the Prince among them. Archaeology was dirty labour. His hair had come loose, his shirt untucked. He didn’t look terribly royal at the moment, just a man. Perhaps that was why he liked his work so much...

      ‘Evie!’ A shadow fell across her table, startling her. ‘What are you doing here? I would have thought you’d have left by now.’ Andrew moved some papers aside so he could sit on the table’s edge.

      ‘Careful! The ink isn’t quite dry!’ she squawked, appalled at his thoughtlessness.

      Andrew jumped up and stepped back, glancing down at his trousers. ‘Thanks for the warning, I wouldn’t have wanted to stain these trousers. They’re new.’

      ‘I was thinking about the paintings,’ Evie said crossly, still alarmed at how close she’d come to losing the afternoon’s work to a careless gesture. ‘They took hours to complete.’ His trousers! Hah! The drawings were much more important. Andrew had at least twenty pairs of trousers. The man was a clotheshorse. Usually she admired that.

      ‘Why, Evie,’ Andrew drawled, looking at her with more careful consideration СКАЧАТЬ