Hearts In The Highlands. Ruth Axtell Morren

an archaeologist for the Egyptian Fund, I’m also expected to raise money for future digs.”

      “I should think that wouldn’t be so difficult. The place was packed today.”

      His eyes scanned the lingering groups of people. “The fund will be pleased. The more we can generate interest in all things Egyptian, the more easily we can seek donations.”

      She nodded. “It sounds a little like missionary work. They both depend on funding from home.”

      “Yes, indeed.”

      He indicated the first display. Miss Norton looked over each artifact, marveling at things that had been preserved for so many centuries beneath the earth. She bent over the gold masks. He was pleased to note she didn’t touch them, but looked at the brilliant surface painted with dark strokes to signal eyes and eyebrows, mouth and nose.

      “What did you think of the talk?” Mr. Gallagher stood close to her, keeping his back to the lingering crowd, hoping that would keep them from being interrupted.

      “It was wonderful. I never realized there was so much to know about the ancient cultures. When I lived in Palestine, it seemed we were living in Biblical times.”

      She continued studying the artifacts, as he explained each one in more detail.

      When they headed back to the lobby, a few people immediately came toward him. “Mr. Gallagher—” several voices began at once.

      Ignoring them, he turned to Miss Norton, reluctant to end their time together so soon. “The lecture has left me quite thirsty. What about joining me for a cup of tea?”

      She swallowed, and he was afraid for a moment she would refuse. “I’d love to,” she finally said, before adding, “but I really need to get back to your aunt.”

      He nodded, surprised at the disappointment he felt. “That reminds me…you were very good with her the other day. I wanted to express my gratitude. I thought she was going to faint, and I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

      Once again, Miss Norton’s cheeks tinted pink. “By the sounds of it, you’re used to much graver emergencies in the desert.”

      “But I’m only used to dealing with men in critical situations. I have no idea how to help an elderly female.”

      “Well, thankfully, it was no more than a passing moment and your aunt was perfectly fine afterward.”

      “Yes.” His first impression hadn’t been wrong. Miss Norton did understand his aunt.

      She moistened her lips and glanced past his shoulder.

      Before she’d think of another excuse for turning down his invitation, he held up his hand. “Now, what about that tea? It’ll only take a few minutes. There’s a place right around the corner.”

      Instead of replying, she took out her watch. “I have a few minutes before having to return….” Her words came out slowly, as if still debating. “Lady Haversham generally expects me there for dinner at one o’clock.”

      He took out his own watch. “It’s only half-past eleven. I’ll make sure you’re back in plenty of time…with time to spare.” Understanding laced with humor underscored his words.

      “All right.”

      “Good then.” He felt lighthearted all of a sudden. He glanced back around him, knowing he’d have to tell the assistant curator something. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll be right with you. I just need to tell a few people I’m off.” He marked his words with a touch to her elbow, as if afraid she’d disappear into the crowd again.

      “Certainly. I’ll get my things from the cloakroom.”

      “Good enough.” With another brief smile, he headed away from her.

      Maddie was left standing, wondering if she’d done the right thing accepting his invitation.

      She retrieved her umbrella and coat, her mind in turmoil. Would she have enough time to swallow down a cup of tea and then walk all the way back to Belgravia? If she should be late for Lady Haversham…

      Since she’d begun her employment a year ago, she’d never yet missed a day nor been late when Lady Haversham expected her by her side. Before she had time to wonder about the consequences, Mr. Gallagher returned and once again took her arm. How odd it felt to have a gentleman guiding her in such a protective manner.

      Once out of the building, he turned to her. “Do you mind if we walk? I feel I’ve been cooped up all morning.”

      “Not at all. I walked to the lecture, as a matter of fact.”

      He stared at her. “You’re joking. That’s quite a hike from Belgravia to here.”

      Her cheeks warmed and she glanced down. “I enjoy walking. Too much of my time is spent indoors sitting, so I walk whenever I get the chance.” No need to mention that she also did it to save the unnecessary expense of a cab or omnibus.

      She sensed his scrutiny. “I imagine my aunt requires you at her side quite a bit.”

      She bit her lip, striving to answer honestly, yet not be critical of his relative. “It’s the nature of my job.”

      “I suppose so.” He didn’t pursue the subject. No doubt his interest in the topic of paid companions had waned.

      By the time they were seated in the tearoom and the waiter had taken their order, Maddie removed her gloves and decided to forget about Lady Haversham and enjoy herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to a public eatery. She glanced around at the charming interior. Dark wood oak beams framed the low ceiling. They sat at a small, round table covered with a spotless white linen tablecloth. A small bouquet of forget-me-nots and daffodils was placed at its center.

      Mr. Gallagher leaned forward. “Tell me about your time in Palestine, Miss Norton.”

      She folded her hands and looked down at the tablecloth. “There isn’t much to tell. We lived in Jerusalem from when I was eight until I was fourteen.”

      “You said your parents were missionaries?”

      “Yes.” She was glad to be able to speak about them instead of herself. “Papa felt a call to the mission field when he was a young man—both my parents did, actually. They went to Palestine under the auspices of the Foreign Mission Society, when representatives of the society came to our church to speak one Sunday.”

      “I’m surprised they took a young child with them.”

      She couldn’t help smiling. “Not only one. Three. I have two older brothers.”

      He shook his head. “I can’t imagine being responsible for anyone but myself over there. And you all survived your time in the field?”

      “Yes. I won’t say it was without incident….” Her words slowed. “My parents probably wouldn’t have come back when they did, but I had fallen ill with malaria.”

      “The Middle East can be a harsh place.”

      She found him observing her, his long fingers idly smoothing down the ends of his mustache. She could feel her cheeks redden under his gaze, wondering what he saw—a woman past her youth, with eyes that tended to look sad even when she wasn’t, cheeks that gave away her emotions, a too-wide mouth. Her eyelids fluttered downward as the moment drew out.

      “Most foreigners succumb to malaria at one time or another. I’ve gone through enough bouts to dread the symptoms.”

      She sighed. “I grew to know them quite well. It was after my third attack that my parents decided to return to England.”

      He continued stroking his mustache, studying her. He had such a direct way of looking at a person, she felt he could read her innermost thoughts.

      “I’m still amazed that a European woman and her three young children