Chapter Four

Foolish.

No, Hannah felt more than foolish. Utterly idiotic. A complete imbecile. Was she not meant to be a smart woman? And yet she had let herself be taken in by petty criminals.

She pressed a hand to her ribcage. Goodness knows what they had intended to do with her.

Red gave her a sympathetic look which made her want to swipe it off his face. She withdrew her hand from her chest and straightened. Beaded reticule clutched close and now filled with her returned money, she sidled into the chair he had drawn out for her.

The private parlor in the Ship Inn was hardly much better than the rest of it, but at least it was peaceful. Hannah could scarce believe how many men were already propped up against the bar or back at the tables gambling away what little fortune they had. It was as though some of them had not even left for the night.

She perched carefully on the wooden chair, aware the wooden legs squeaked and wobbled a little when she did so. It was not that she was an overly heavy woman—in fact she thought herself as quite average in most areas apart from intellect really—but the chairs had likely been in use for far longer than they should have been.

Gaze lowered, she eyed the scratched surface of the table, taking in the few barely legible names scrawled into it and scars from what must have been from knives. From poor table manners or from something else, she wondered. This was just the sort of place bar fights broke out. She lifted her gaze to Red as he seated himself opposite her.

Did he ever get in bar fights? And what was the lord thing about? Something to do with his position as a smuggler? She had heard of pirate lords in books. Perhaps it was something like that.

"Why Red?" she asked, the question bursting from her before she could prevent it.

His lips quirked, and he motioned for the woman from last night to serve them. "Have you eaten?" he asked Hannah.

"I..." She scowled. "A few hours ago."

He nodded. "A pie for both of us, please, Louisa. And two ales."

"I do not—"

"Today, you drink ale. You're pale."

"I was going to say, I do not need food." She turned a smile to Louisa. "An ale would be excellent, thank you."

Louisa grinned back and tucked her hands into her apron. "Pies and ales coming up."

Red waited until she had left before facing Hannah.

"You don't have red hair," Hannah mused. "Have you spilled lots of blood?"

"Gallons," he said dryly.

"No, that's not it. My father would not have suggested searching you out if you had."

"Your father sent you to me?"

She nodded. "You helped a friend of his."

"Ah." He leaned back and eyed her.

Unnerved by his study of her, she tried not to squirm in her seat and met his gaze head on. Her stomach did a twist that felt as though it would never untangle. His eyes were an intense blue, slightly at odds with his light brown hair. Some people would compare them to the ocean, but they would be doing them an injustice. The seas around England were a murky green color and nothing like the bold color of Red's eyes. His were more like the Caribbean Sea—not that she had ever seen it, but her father had described it perfectly.

"Tell me, why are you alone?"

She frowned. "My father is in France."

"And he lets you gallivant about alone."

"Of course. I have always been independent."

He shook his head. "There would be many who would be scandalized by such behavior."

She met his gaze head on and the knot in her stomach did another loop. "I am a gentleman's daughter," she insisted. "But I am hardly the owner of a fortune or a great reputation. My father trusts me to look after myself and stay out of harm's way, so I need no more permission than that."

"And yet, somehow you nearly got yourself kidnapped by would-be pirates."

"If you had accepted my offer that never would have happened."

His lips twisted. "So that was my fault, was it?"

"Absolutely. Had you not been so rude and listened to my offer, you would have accepted." She jabbed a finger his way. "You left me with no choice."

Louisa entered the room in a timely manner, bringing forth their ales and pies. Her stomach grumbled loudly in response to the fragrant smells of meat and gravy. Hannah saw Red press his lips firmly together to suppress a smile. She narrowed her gaze at him while she thanked Louisa.

Insufferable man.

"Pardon?"

Her eyes widened. Had she said that out loud? "It-it smells good."

His knowing gaze told her she had not done a good enough job of covering her slip. But then, why should she care? He had been nothing but rude and disagreeable since they had first met.

He took a long gulp of ale, and she watched his throat work. Never before had she found a man's Adam's apple to be interesting, but there was something wholly fascinating about the way it bobbed, making the stubble on his neck move with it.

He still had not shaved, she noted, although his hair was a little more tamed and respectable. He certainly did not look like a smuggler to her, but she supposed that was what made him such a good smuggler—no one would suspect him of criminal activities even if his manners were the coarsest she had ever witnessed.

Red wasted no time in digging into the pie. Her stomach renewed its protests at the sight of crumbling pastry and succulent meat. Apparently her stomach had seen fit to untangle itself. A poor tavern this might be, but the food looked wonderful.

"I'm not planning on poisoning you." He gestured to her untouched food.

"I know that," she snapped, drawing up her knife and fork.

He looked at the knife. "And I hope you are not planning on slicing my throat."

She glanced at how she was holding it, directed at him in what could certainly be conceived as a threatening manner. Hannah lowered it. "I would never say never," she muttered.

He chuckled around a mouthful of meat, the sound genuine. She blinked at him. It was the first time she'd heard him laugh with genuine enjoyment, rather than in an attempt to make her feel foolish, and she could not help but like it.

Before she could make a further show of herself, she tucked into the food and took a sip of ale. Her attempt not to wrinkle her nose failed, and Red eyed her with a glint in his eye that told her he knew she had just been putting on a show of bravado and actually she never drank ale. The occasional sip of whiskey, yes, or even a brandy every now and then, but her father detested ale and she had always tended to follow his tastes on everything.

"So," he said, placing down his cutlery, "tell me more about this artifact."

"You are interested now?"

He sighed. "It seems I am. I can hardly let you go running off with more petty criminals, can I?"

"Can you not?"

"Apparently not," he grumbled.

She grinned. "So you do have some morals."

"Apparently so."

She took another sip of the ale, feeling the bitter tang fizz down her throat. It was not that bad, she supposed. At least it had the similar warming affect that whiskey did.

"The artifact is a large stone."

"A large stone?" Both his brows rose.

"It has inscriptions on." She leaned forward, unable to keep the grin from her face. "In different languages."

"Oh yes."

"Do you not see how exciting it is?"

"I can't say I do."

"This stone is thousands of years old. From Ancient Egypt."

"You did mention something about that. How did your father come about it?"

"My father has been an explorer since I was a little girl. He has been on many expeditions and is well respected in London intellectual circles. He has helped develop the collection of antiquities at the British Museum."

"How fascinating."

"Have you ever been to the museum, Mr. Red?"

"Just Red," he corrected. "And no. I had my head filled with enough history as a boy. I have done my best to avoid it ever since."

"Then you are missing out a great deal. My father always says, ‘how can we move forward if we do not look back?'"

"Ah, well, there we differ. Looking back merely delays the going forward part."

She shook her head. "No, it does not. We must learn from our previous mistakes or else we will repeat them over and over."

He smirked. "I never make the same mistake twice."

"That I do not believe."

"Believe what you wish, Miss St. John, but you will not find me getting excited over a lump of rock." He drained his ale. "So he found this on one of his expeditions."

"No. This was in France. When Napoleon invaded Egypt, he took a lot of artifacts with him. He has been keeping them hidden. It is vitally important we take back as many as we can."

"To Egypt?"

"No, of course not. They must be brought here so we can study them."

"Do the Egyptians not have a problem with this?"

Hannah slid down into her seat a little. "Most of them try to sell their history. It must not end up in the wrong hands."

He leaned in toward her. "And who is to say your hands are the right ones?"

She paused and took a drink to cover her confusion. "Well, we cannot have Napoleon stealing all their history!"

"So you're the better thief?"

"The British Museum can protect the stone. They have the resources to study it. The Egyptians certainly do not, and Napoleon does not care for the history. It's all a display of power."

Red ran his finger around the rim of his ale, and they both watched the show for a moment.

Hannah took the chance to draw in a breath and cool her heated face. In truth, she had never considered what they did with the Egyptian artifacts could be wrong. In the recent years, it had become very popular to own pieces of Egypt's history and many items were bought and sold for large prices. Some grand houses even had mummies in them for goodness sake.

But that was not what she and her father wanted. No, they were not interested in simply having something to display. Their aim was to study these items, learn about them, create a knowledge base about the people of Egypt, and understand more thoroughly where they came from.

"So your father is in France rounding up various artifacts?"

She nodded. "Only the ones that are easily come by. He is five and fifty—hardly fit for spying. The stone had been left in storage in France, and he was able to bribe a soldier to gain access to it."

"And he has left you all alone for how long?"

"He has been gone several months." She frowned. "I am not sure why you are so fixated on me being alone. Many women function quite well on their own."

"If I were your father, I would not leave you alone for a second. You are far too attractive to be left alone."

"I—"

"And far too much trouble."

Any warmth from the compliment vanished. "Look, Mr. Red, do you intend to help me or not? If not, please stop wasting my time. My father is in Le Havre, awaiting someone to take the stone."

Red's gaze lifted to hers and lingered on her face, dropping briefly to her lips. A faint half-smile played across his mouth. "I will help you. I'll be damned if you get yourself tangled up with criminals again."

The air left her body. "Thank you." Foolishly, tears danced in her eyes. She blinked them away. "Thank you."

He peered at her as if she was the oddest creature he had ever met.

Hannah could not bring herself to care what he thought. The artifact would be where it belonged soon enough, and she would have her father's pride. She hoped.