Jamie supposed he’d meet Atherton soon enough, and judge his character then.
Or would he see him? The concierge had not mentioned Atherton at all, only implied Evie had sent a telegram to someone, setting up this meeting at the British Museum. Who? If she was staying in Atherton’s house, she’d need not send him a telegram—she could simply discuss it with him there.
And who had she been looking for at the docks when she’d run into Jamie? She’d continued to hurry along after she’d departed from him, heading in the opposite direction from the ship, her mother and sisters nowhere in sight. She couldn’t have been searching for Atherton, who hadn’t bothered to take himself to Southampton to meet his own betrothed.
Jamie turned a page, pretending to be absorbed in a drawing of the insect, a rather pretty beetle with an iridescent green back. The painting of it was well done, showing how its colors changed with the light.
Laughter jerked his attention from the book. He raised his head to behold Evie rushing to embrace a young woman with sable hair and an excited smile.
Evie’s dark hair straggled from its neat roll, and her simple frock skimmed her shapely body. Sunshine streaming from high windows made her hair gleam, her eyes sparkle.
The woman she greeted was about the same age as she, her frock cut to drape her body to its best advantage. She looked familiar, though Jamie could not place her at the moment.
Evie stepped from her friend, glanced around as though scanning for watchers, and caught sight of Jamie.
Her dismay could not be more obvious. The last person Evie wanted to see in that moment was Jamie Mackenzie. They stared at each other as time stretched, Evie disconcerted, Jamie’s smile slow and triumphant.
When her friend asked a worried question, Evie hastily revised her countenance, pasting on a false expression of delighted surprise.
Jamie closed his book and dropped it to a table—his sister Belle would have been horrified if he’d shoved it back onto the shelf. What if you put it in the wrong place, and no one could ever find it again? he could hear her exclaiming. Let the librarian take care of it.
“Good morning, Miss McKnight,” Jamie said as he moved forward to them. “What a lucky chance to meet you again.”
“Indeed, it is a pleasure.” Evie mouthed the words while behind her eyes the anguish at seeing him was vivid. “May I introduce my friend, Miss Iris Georgiou? She was on the rowing team with me at Girton.”
So that was where Jamie had seen her. He recalled her collapsing in gales of laughter as Jamie tumbled into the river, courtesy of Evie.
“Charmed.” Jamie extended a hand to Iris. “I remember you howling in mirth at my misfortune.”
“Well, it was rather funny.” Iris regarded him with a mischievous twinkle as she completed the handshake. She was quite lovely, the spindly girl in the rowing costume all but gone. Evie had introduced her as Miss. Not married, then.
“And my fiancé, Mr. Atherton.”
A man Jamie had not noticed at all stepped forward. He now realized the fiancé had been there all along, but Evie had occupied Jamie’s entire focus.
“Mackenzie.” Atherton thrust out a hand.
No fatuous mustache, no silly flannels, and his smile was merry rather than inane. His handshake was firm as well.
The man stood a good six inches shorter than Jamie, but then Jamie had the uncommon height of the Mackenzie men. Atherton had blond hair and a trim beard, his brown eyes holding a modicum of intelligence.
“Atherton.” Jamie couldn’t help but harden his grip the slightest bit, liking the tiny flinch that pinched Atherton’s lips.
They released the handshake but continued to assess each other. “The kindly Scotsman who rescued my dear fiancée and relocated her to an excellent hotel,” Atherton said. “I am grateful you were on hand.”
“I could hardly leave them stranded,” Jamie said. “Alone at the station, with no one to come for them, no one to give them shelter. It was the least I could do.”
If Atherton noticed Jamie’s dig at his failure to look after his own fiancée, he made no indication. “The Scots are a hospitable people, I’ve heard.” Atherton grinned. “At least when they aren’t busy chasing the British army to Derby.”
Jamie caught the flash of annoyance in Evie’s eyes, but she said nothing.
“So close to London they came,” Jamie said, voice hardening. “I lost family in the battles of that time. Great-great uncles.”
“That was long ago,” Atherton said dismissively. “Now we are all one country, and the Scots are the better for it.”
“Are they now?” Jamie let his accent become more pronounced.
“Of course. No more mad Highlanders tearing up the land. Science, agriculture, and modernity are what makes up Scotland now.”
“Ye’ve been there, have you?”
“No.” Atherton did not bother to look embarrassed. “I rarely travel farther than Oxfordshire. I go too far north, and my skin begins to itch.”
“Well, ’tis not for the faint of heart, the Highlands. You claim it has all been tamed, but the wilderness there is vast. Dangerous for the unwary.”
“As I say.” Atherton shuddered. “I’ll stay in London, thank you.”
“I’d like to see the Highlands,” Evie broke in.
Her eyes held the longing Jamie had sometimes caught in his own, when he stayed too many months far from home. His father sometimes abruptly raised his head to peer out to a foggy London street, and Jamie would know he saw hills rolling through the mist, land empty and wild stretching to the knife-sharp mountains.
Jamie wanted to show the wilderness around his boyhood home to Evie, wanted to watch her face light in delight when she beheld its stark beauty. He wanted her family to be there too, so he could watch Marjorie dance with the buoyancy of youth, while Clara quietly appreciated the beauty, and Mrs. McKnight breathed a relaxing sigh.
He’d do it, Jamie decided. He’d take Evie to the Highlands and let her fall in love with them.
He abruptly changed the subject. “What have you come to the museum to stare at? The gruesome mummies? The famous Rosetta Stone?”
“Miss Georgiou will show us pottery from her homeland,” Atherton answered readily. “You know, Achilles and Spartans spearing each other on vases. She is Greek, though she grew up right here in England.”
“The collection is indeed excellent,” Jamie agreed, though it was clear Atherton knew nothing about it.
“Do join us, Mr. Mackenzie,” Iris said.
“Yes, that would be just the ticket.” Atherton clapped his gloved palms together. “Come with us, Mackenzie. Why not?”
Both Atherton and Miss Georgiou seemed eager to absorb Jamie into their company. Evie, on the other hand, was most reluctant.
“I’m certain Mr. Mackenzie has much to do.” Evie sent Jamie a pointed look. “You came here to research, didn’t you, Mr. Mackenzie?”
Jamie contrived a blank expression. “Passing the time. My sisters are agog for Egyptian antiquities and rather gave me the bug for them too.”
“Surely it is your father who has the expertise in antiquities,” Atherton said. “He is famous for his collections.”