“Oh, I should say around ten thousand.”
“Not bad.”
“Annually,” Burleigh added, almost apologetically.
“I am impressed.” Harvey-Jones gave him a look of renewed respect. “That is twice as much as my income, and I work hard for what I get.”
“I am certain that you do,” agreed the young lord mildly. “My own work is more in the way of a leisure pursuit.”
“A hobby, sir?”
“Something of the sort.” The young gentleman allowed himself a sigh. “Still, one must fill the empty hours as best one can.”
“If you were married,” suggested the industrialist, “you would find other ways to fill those hours.”
“I daresay.”
“What is more, you would soon have fewer of them to fill!”
“Daddy,” chirped a warm feminine voice, “you are completely monopolising our host with your chatter.” She affected a frown of disapproval. “You aren’t talking about money again, are you? Tell me you’re not.”
“Furthest thing from my mind, Pippa dear.” Reggie gave his golden-haired daughter a peck on the cheek. “We were just now speaking of hobbies and avocations. The earl here complains of too much time on his hands. I told him he wants a wife.”
“Daddy!” Phillipa gasped, horrified, embarrassed, and excited all at once. She glanced at Burleigh to gauge his reaction to this bold affront to his dignity. “Oh, do please forgive my father. He can be such a rascal sometimes.”
“Yes, forgive me,” echoed Reggie. “I did not enjoy the benefit of the good upbringing my daughter had. But there it is. A man needs a wife. Well, sir, what do you say?”
“I say,” answered Burleigh slowly, holding Phillipa in his gaze as he spoke, “that happiness, like wealth, means nothing unless there is someone to share it.”
“Spoken like a true romantic,” hooted Reggie.
“Oh, Daddy, do behave.” Laying a hand on the impeccable black sleeve of Burleigh’s dinner jacket, Phillipa said, “I assure you, my lord, it is a sentiment I share.”
“Then perhaps you will do me the honour of sitting beside me at dinner tonight, so we can discuss it at the greater length it deserves.” Burleigh took her hand from his sleeve, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “That is,” he said with a glance to Reggie, “if your father can be persuaded to let you out of his sight for the space of an hour.”
“A calamity, sir, but I shall bear up somehow.” He waved them away. “Run along! You young folk go and enjoy yourselves.”
“Shall we?” Burleigh offered his arm, which the lady graciously accepted, and the two strolled off across the marble vestibule towards the great hall. Later they would be seen again and again in one another’s company-so much so that people began to expect it. They became an item of interest in the elevated reaches of high society and were treated as a courting couple-which certainly appeared to be the case-though whenever anyone ventured to ask, the question was lightly brushed aside with a laugh and an assurance of mutual friendship.
If that response was intended to stop the tongues from wagging, it effected the opposite result. The gossipmongers of the aristocracy spoke with ever more certainty of an imminent announcement of betrothal.
Alas, those expecting an early invitation to a gala wedding were disappointed. Summer came and went, gave way to autumn, and though the courtship continued, no matrimonial announcement was made. Those close to the earl intimated that the young gentleman’s travelling schedule made such arrangements difficult at present; his various business pursuits dictated a return to the Middle East and quite possibly the Orient. Be that as it may, speculation remained high for a wedding the following spring as soon as the earl arrived back in the city from his travels.
But the young gentleman did not return-not the following spring, or the next. Then, when the diligent flow of his letters to his darling Phillipa abruptly stopped, the fire of speculation flamed in new and unexpected directions. As time went on, opinion began to harden that some dire fate had befallen him. Though the manner of his demise remained unconfirmed, imagination supplied no end of likely disasters: Burleigh’s ship had sunk on its return voyage; he had fallen among thieves; the earl had been abducted and was being held for ransom; he had been caught in the crossfire of some local strife and been rendered a casualty of war; he had gone native in Arabia; the young man languished in a foreign prison on false charges… or any other explanation that occurred to the toilers at the rumour mill.
In fact, it would be three years entire before Archelaeus Burleigh returned to England. The reason for his absence and what had happened to him during his travels were never disclosed; no word of explanation for his delay was ever breathed aloud. But the man who returned to London was not the same man who left the city almost four years before.
In the belly of the young lord was a new and insatiable hunger. Knowledge, the more arcane the better, was now his consuming passion. He was not to be seen without a book in his hand, and when he wasn’t reading, he was making notes in one of a growing succession of journals, which he kept under lock and key in his desk. The ballroom of his spacious mansion was gutted by an army of carpenters; they lined the walls with a double tier of shelves, which soon began filling with obscure and archaic tomes. That architectural transformation served to underscore the simple fact that the wealthy young man had become an indefatigable scholar.
And though he still maintained a nominal presence in the antiquities trade, the Earl of Sutherland was more likely now to be seen at a lecture of the Royal Society than on the auction floors of Sotheby’s or Christie’s. When at last Phillipa realised that anything she said or did could have no effect on her paramour’s new obsession, the young woman-who was not accustomed to suffer any rival to her affection-slowly withdrew, and Archelaeus Burleigh was consigned to his solitude and bachelorhood.
CHAPTER 25
Putting their feet to the road, the three travellers began walking alongside the river lazily winding its way towards the city. The sun was warm on their backs, and their wet clothes soon dried as they walked. Kit, who had grown used to the sweltering heat of Egypt in high summer, luxuriated in the balmy breezes wafting off the water.
“Really,” he said after a while, “how did you learn so much about ley travel? The last time I saw you-” He paused. “I mean, the time before the last time-when I lost you in the alley in London, remember?”
“Of course, I remember,” she told him. “The best thing that ever happened to me-how could I forget?”
“Explain.”
“Just wait.” She gave him a bright smile. “You’ll see.”
“Okay,” agreed Kit, “then tell me how you knew where to find the leys we’ve been using.”
“I discovered this line with my ley lamp.”
“That little gismo you have hidden in your pocket?”
“That’s what I call it.” She dug it out and handed it to him. “It seems to be able to locate ley lines and indicate when they are most strongly active.”
He stared at the brass oval filling the palm of her hand. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” She passed it to him.
It was heavier than he expected and warm to the touch. The small holes formerly filled with blue light were dark now. “Ever seen anything like that before?” he asked, passing the mechanism to Giles for his perusal.
“Only in Miss Wilhelmina’s possession.” He handed it back.
“Where did it come from?” asked Kit.
“Long story,” Mina replied. “But I’m hoping to get an upgrade on this one.”
Giles sang out just then. “Wagon coming!”
