Chapter 8

Who knew that a museum of dusty old bones and fossils could be so stimulating and refreshing?

Prospero puzzled over this as Elise tugged him through the Natural History Museum that had been opened the previous year, housing the remains of animals both recent and prehistoric, along with other natural science discoveries. Elise's encyclopedic knowledge of the building and the exhibits was refreshingly interesting—or perhaps it was just that his companion made it so.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Elise said as they wandered through the Romanesque interior.

His eyes followed hers to the vaulted ceilings made of arches of steel. It was a proud display of engineering technology. He'd remarked as such when they'd first arrived and he'd seen the outside of the newly built museum. The building resembled a cathedral, with towers topped by short spires. Dozens of round-topped Romanesque windows formed aisles that connected the towers. The buff-colored exterior had a mass of terracotta tiles and stucco terraces that were broken up by a series of blue tiles. The arched entrance to the museum was flanked by columns resembling a church entrance. Within this hallowed place of knowledge, he did indeed feel reverent.

"Surprisingly, it is," he murmured. "Not at all what I expected."

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't have seen it yet," she said with a frown. "As it only recently opened."

He nodded. "I heard of it, of course, but from the descriptions I expected something rather stark and bleak inside. I am happy to be proven wrong. Look at those..." He gestured to the painted ceiling panels that, rather than angels, were paintings of stylized plants.

"Scots pine, lemon trees, cacao plants," Elise recited. "Those are but a few of the many they've painted. I like the unique design." Her brown eyes shone in delight.

He nodded at a series of large fossils that appeared to be swimming along one wall, apparently of marine animals. "And what are those?"

"Ichthyosaurs and plesiosaurs. Several of them were uncovered by Mary Anning, a pioneer among the fossil collectors, and one of the very few women scientists in the first half of this century."

"Impressive woman."

"Indeed. She was incredible," Elise replied as they strolled through the museum, wandering past the other guests. He could tell by her manner how much she appreciated the scientists and adventurers who had come before her, especially the women.

When she spotted a row of tall cabinets, she suddenly tugged on his arm in renewed childlike wonder.

"Oh, come and see. These are some of my favorites!"

He quickened his pace to keep up with her, and they stopped before the cabinets. She opened one of the drawers, and he was startled to see dozens of butterflies. All of the little creatures had been carefully pinned through their thorax, something Elise had to explain to him, as he had no idea what a thorax was.

The wings of each butterfly were spread out to display the fore and aft pairs. Most shimmered with a stunning iridescence, as though they had been captured only moments ago deep in some Amazonian rainforest.

"Spectacular." He leaned in close at the same moment she did, and their cheeks brushed.

"My apologies," he whispered, but he didn't move. His gaze dropped to her lips.

"No apologies needed. It's quite breathtaking," she replied, her lashes fluttering. For such a strong woman who seemed a force of nature at times, he delighted at seeing this side of her, the girl full of wonder who had become the woman before him. This place was full of things that held magic for her, a magic that had made her the person she'd become, and for that, this place was sacred to him as well. It was a building designed to build dreamers. And as all good men knew, dreamers changed the world.

They marveled at the dozens of butterflies, with all their bewildering variety, before moving toward the larger exhibits.

A trio of stuffed giraffe specimens stood to one side of the main hall, and Elise stopped beneath them and pointed up eagerly. "Isn't it fascinating to think that they evolved long necks to eat from the topmost branches of trees? I wish we could study whether trees grew taller in Africa to avoid being eaten by herbivores."

Prospero joined her at the base of the exhibit and read the little plaque about the giraffes. Then he pointed at the black-and-brown bird that sat upon the midsize giraffe's back.

"Who's that little fellow?"

She looked to where he was pointing and grinned with joy. The beauty of her smile in that moment, so unguarded, so free, hit him like an expensive glass of scotch, warming his entire body deliciously.

"That's an oxpecker. Some naturalists put it in the Sturnidae family, along with starlings, but I think they actually belong to the Mimidae family with mockingbirds. It has been a fierce debate over the last few years."

"About what? The classification? Why is that?" He was genuinely curious, and he was strangely attracted to her when she slipped into her professorial tone. He couldn't help but picture her in nothing but a corset and those odd little spectacles with all those lenses as she straddled his lap and lectured him about, well... anything. His body hardened at just the thought.

"It has to do with how we see the animals and their behavior and whether behaviors and appearance are enough to classify ‘like' species together or not."

He considered her point, secretly admitting to himself that he had not the knowledge of the natural world that he'd first thought. Of course, she was educated to the point of being a true naturalist, and he wouldn't begin to compare his knowledge to hers. But he liked that he could learn something from conversing with her. In fact, with her, he'd most likely learn something new every day.

"So what do these oxpeckers do with giraffes? I assume there is some connection if the animals are paired together in a display like this."

Elise nodded. "The birds gather around large herbivores like rhinos, oxen, and giraffes and eat insects that may be harmful to them." She turned her gaze back to the animals. "It is a beautiful symbiotic relationship."

Her quiet, energetic joy was so clear. In this place full of cold and dead things, she shone like a celestial sun, casting light in all directions making the exhibits glow. "You like that, don't you?"

"I do. To think that the entire fabric of life weaves together so perfectly that even species as vastly different as giraffes and oxpeckers can work and thrive by being together." Her voice softened a little, as though she were stepping reverently into a church and whispering a prayer. "It's beautiful. Life is beautiful."

Prospero continued to stare at her. "Yes, beautiful," he agreed, but he meant her. She was beautiful. Had he ever seen a woman so lovely? No, he didn't think he had.

"Come, let me show you the whale skeleton." She grasped his arm and tugged him through the crowd that moved past the arched doorways.

He could see the way she fit here in this place of relics and knowledge, a place she so clearly belonged, no matter what other men might say because she was a woman. She was a magnificent sight. She was pretty by the standards of men, but those standards were so limiting. By the standards of life, she was exquisite. She knew her place in the world and would not let the limitations imposed on her stand in her way. She knew her divine purpose.

Prospero envied her that. He was a man adrift, a man without a true home or a sense of himself. He dwelled in the shadow of someone else's life. He wanted to be himself again, but the boy he'd been was gone. Who was he now?

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a glass display case. It was the face of a stranger. Not an unkind face, nor was it the face lacking empathy or joy. In that reflection he saw for the first time in years the stirrings of someone he longed to know, longed to become.

Moved by the depth of that sudden feeling, Prospero clasped Elise's hand as they stopped before the massive skeleton of a whale that stretched outward from the center of the exhibit hall.

He wished this day would never end. He could here with her and look at old bones and speak of African birds for the rest of their lives. But it would eventually have to end, just as her study of men would come to an end and she would no longer need him. The thought of losing the light of her brilliance in his life left a hollow ache in his chest.

He listened intently as Elise spoke of whales, beetles and birds, until they next marveled together at a collection of nautilus shells.

"This one belonged to Sir Hans Sloane. It was carved by Johannes Belkien to enhance the shell's natural beauty. I think it is one of those times where nature and human art come together beautifully."

His gaze fixed longer on her fingers, tracing the shape on the glass, rather than the shell itself.

"We work better with nature than against it," Prospero agreed. "I heard someone once say that nautilus shells haven't changed much in design for hundreds of thousands of years?"

She peered at the exquisite etchings so finely executed in the shell. "We think it may actually be millions of years now. And it's quite true. They are some of the oldest things discovered when digging in the earth. I think that's what's incredible about the natural world. If something works, it remains the same in design. If it doesn't, it changes until it does work. There's a beauty to that."

As they moved on to the next exhibit encased in glass, Elise's smile began to fade.

"What's the matter?" Prospero asked.

She nodded toward the black-and-white creature that resembled a penguin. "This one always breaks my heart." She placed her fingers on the glass in a faint touch and her eyes darkened. "This is a great auk. The last one the world ever saw was in 1852."

"What happened to them?" Prospero knew that with the passage of time species did die out and new ones took their place. He could understand how it might make her sad.

"The largest colony was found in Canada. Men slaughtered them when they came ashore to breed. Can you imagine?" Her face flushed with anger. "You and your mate swim to shore to lay your eggs and raise your young and are murdered the moment you step upon the sand? It seems the more of these birds that were killed, the more people desired their bodies for private collections. Hunters chased down the last breeding pair known to the world in Iceland simply because a merchant had requested a specimen, and the single egg the two auks laid was crushed beneath a careless hunter's boot." Her voice broke a little. "When we let greed and desire fuel our actions, those actions carry a great and terrible cost. Moments like these challenge my faith in the power of reason and logic. What good is it for the world to kill the last of a creature? It helps no one. I can tell you, no woman would ever have done that, killed the last of a species. It's heartless, it's cruel. Why must our world be run by such cruelty?"

Her words struck deeper, truer than she could ever know. As a young man, he'd loved a good hunt—he'd loved to chase foxes or hunt pheasants. He had never thought of the cost to them, only the thrill of the chase. Only of himself.

"Speaking as a man, I admit we have those urges that send us to hunt, to strike down creatures to prove that we are superior. It makes us feel as if we defeated that creature and are in control of our domain." She listened, as if memorizing every word, and he was careful and yet honest in how he chose to continue. "I cannot justify that urge, but it does make me see that there is a marked difference between men and women, at least in a general sense in this matter. Of course, I've met many women who enjoy the hunt and many men who do not. But women like you understand that nature needs balance. You see the laws that nature sets forth and respect them. Most men I know would trample them to satisfy their current desires."

"Why do you suppose that is?" she asked, her eyes alight with scientific curiosity.

He had no easy answer. "I know some will claim the right by simply being male. Others believe that God gave them providence to do as they pleased in this world. But I don't believe it's as clear as that. The idea that men stand apart from nature while women stand within it is not entirely accurate either. I think it's more complex than that. I believe there's a sense of aggressive need to control our environment because we equate control with survival. We try to change the world to suit us, rather than change ourselves to suit the world."

"You're starting to see, aren't you?"

He tore his gaze away from the bird in the case and found she was watching him. Her soft brown eyes were so full of understanding that his heart stuttered painfully in his chest.

"Show me more," he said. "Show me everything."

* * *

By the time they left the museum late in the afternoon, Elise felt oddly drained. She had shown Prospero so much and, in the process, had run through dozens of emotions. All the ideas that had tumbled about in her head for years had come out that day.

This was the first time she'd had a real chance to think and speak with a man about these things instead of the other women of the society. Strange, she'd started out so focused on her study of men, but the moment they'd gotten inside the museum, she'd forgotten everything she'd wanted to ask him for her notes and instead had run about showing him all of her favorite things like a child in a toy shop. She'd had the most marvelous time, and couldn't remember ever having fun spending time with a man who wasn't her father.

They descended the steps as they excited the Natural History Museum. She halted abruptly and he turned, his bright-blue eyes alight with curiosity.

"I just had a thought...," she said. "It's man, you see. I so often villainize them because it makes it simple to blame the wrongs of the world on them. But something you said adjusted my perspective on the matter."

He smiled wryly. "So we're not all villains, then?"

"It's what you said about urges. You spoke of your urges and the need to win, to claim, to conquer." She blushed at the thoughts such words conjured up, creating her own urges inside her. Urges that she was only just beginning to understand.

She cleared her throat and continued. "Those urges stem from elements that, in the natural world, are quite necessary. The aggressive need to control one's environment is not a negative trait in and of itself—it's rather how it's applied that matters. All species of life can be aggressive, even plants. Consider invasive species such as ivy, which grows so lovely on the front of your home. When rabbits were introduced to Australia in the eighteenth century, they weren't aggressive in terms of fighting, but without any natural predators they competed against native animals and threatened their existence.

"But when the aggression of any creature or plant is left unchecked, that is when imbalance occurs. Ancient man had diseases, the harsh elements, and other wild creatures to limit their behavior. You kill to eat, you kill to defend yourself and others from wild animals or other tribes of people."

Prospero seemed to understand her meaning. "But as our technology advanced, the laws of nature failed to keep us in check. Our aggressions, driven by our urges, have become limitless."

"Exactly." She stared at him in wonder. Before today, she had never considered the matter from that side. His words had given her a valuable insight. "If more people thought to look within themselves for answers rather than bury themselves in shallow concerns and desires, we might begin to affect real change. But I fear it would be a battle against the many who would not take the effort to try."

Prospero held out an arm to her, and she put her hand on his sleeve as they left the museum grounds. She'd always thought walking arm in arm with a man was a bit pointless. Yet with Prospero, she rather liked how he inclined his head toward her when speaking and how he helped her cut through the crowds as he ushered her along at his side. There was a symbiotic strength to them when they were together, not unlike the oxpecker and the giraffe. She couldn't help but wonder what else would be pleasurable to do with him? Just thinking of that sent a quiver of excitement through her.

When they reached the street, he hailed a hackney for them.

They were quiet and lost in their own thoughts on the ride back to her home. Elise stole a few glances at Prospero, trying to puzzle out how this man had been able to make her forget herself at times. She was learning quite a bit from him, though not all of those lessons were the kind she would have expected, given the parameters of her study. Only when they stopped at her home did she finally break the silence.

"Thank you," she said.

He raised his brows. "What for?"

"For reminding me that my assumptions can be limited." Her face heated at the embarrassing admission. "I let myself become too driven by my own preconceived notions of people in the world around me. I've been too harsh in my beliefs where men are concerned."

At this, he chuckled as he got out of the hackney. He circled around and opened her door, offering her his hand to assist her out of the vehicle. "Well, to be fair, we men are a wild lot. We have much to beg forgiveness for, but we do have our moments of usefulness, don't you agree?"

She thought of the wonders that filled the museums and libraries of London, the poetry that men had written, the paintings, the sculptures. Yes, men could be in tune with the world around them, if given a chance to stand apart from the darker side of their natures. She couldn't allow herself to forget that. Championing women's causes didn't have to come at the cost of looking down her nose at all men, even if they did choose to do so to women.

But still, the truth was that men controlled everything in a woman's life—her body, her property, her safety—and could do practically anything to her with few consequences.

She needed to understand why men believed the things they did and acted the way they did, so she might someday find a way to convince them that women were meant to be equals.

Women would have to be more cunning and clever about how they spoke to men if they were to convince them that they were not frail, insipid creatures with the brains of children.

Perhaps there was some validity to Cinna's point of defeating men after all. Certainly there were men who couldn't be reasoned with. The villainous cads, the abusers, and other truly bad men. Men like Prospero or her father listened, and it was possible they could change.

The complexity of her thoughts must have shown upon her face, because Prospero placed his hand gently upon her shoulder.

"Do you still wish to visit my club today?" he inquired. "We've had a long day and could always go on the morrow."

They walked up to her door, and Roberts let them inside.

"No, no. I still wish to go. I just need an hour or so to prepare."

"Prepare?" He removed his hat and handed it to Roberts before the butler left them alone in the hall.

"Yes, I need time to get into my disguise." She suddenly found herself grinning and feeling refreshed by the prospect of a new adventure.

"Your disguise?" he asked.

Elise laughed. "Of course. How else can I get into your club?"

"I honestly hadn't thought about it," he admitted. "But yes, you'd have to, wouldn't you? I don't suppose the clubs have scullery maids or some such thing you could pass for with the right garments."

"Hmm, yes, I'll be wearing some such thing to help me pass unnoticed," she echoed, pretending that was her intention. Wouldn't it be a surprise when he saw what she had planned to wear? She had to fight off a laugh. "Wait for me in the drawing room. I will be as quick as possible," she said as she dashed upstairs.

Mary helped her out of her clothing and into her masculine attire. She dressed in light buff trousers and wrapped her breasts tight before she put her shirt and waistcoat on. After that, she stepped into her brown leather lace-up boots.

"I believe I'm ready for the wig," Elise said. Mary, with a clearly disapproving frown, helped her pin her hair flat before placing a short blond wig upon her head. It was fashionably styled with a part to one side, and the hair swept up in a slight wave above the forehead in the way that made many men quite attractive. She added a small, slender, but sophisticated-looking mustache to her upper lip by using an adhesive Cinna had recommended. Then she looked about for the small hand mirror before Mary held it out to her.

Her maid's lips twisted down in clear disapproval. "This is no way to catch a man, milady. No way at all."

"I want to study them, not catch them," she reminded Mary. She nodded in satisfaction at her appearance and stood up, then slung her coat on. She was almost to the bedchamber door when Mary called out.

"You'll be needing this, I suppose." The maid held up a dark-brown wool top hat.

"Oh yes, thank you." She snatched the hat from Mary and put it on. She then rushed toward the stairs and halted. Overcome by a sudden feeling of playfulness, she was struck by an idea. She slowed her movements and added a little swagger to her steps as she started down the staircase. When she reached the drawing room, she casually opened the door and walked in. Prospero was sitting on the settee, A History of the English Railway open in his lap. He glanced up as she strode past him to the fireplace and opened her father's cigar box to casually retrieve a cigar.

Prospero was so focused on his reading that he didn't seem to noticed she'd even entered the room.

"I don't suppose you've seen John this evening? I was to meet him for dinner," she asked smoothly, call attention to herself.

"Er, no, sorry, I haven't seen him this evening. I'm sure he'll be along shortly if he's to meet you. Are you a business associate of his?" Prospero glanced up at her as he spoke and then looked back down at his book, clearly engrossed in whatever he was reading and likely not paying attention to her at all.

"Something like that. The name is Elliot. Are you one of Hamblin's associates as well?"

He looked up at her, a calm expression on his face as though he was used to meeting complete strangers frequently. "I'm Prospero Harrington and no, I'm not yet in business with him, but I hope to be, assuming he finds me worthy of the investment."

"Ahh, I'm sure he will. Care if I join you? Hamblin doesn't mind if I pinch his cigars."

"Not at all," he replied and then he politely turned his focus back to his book.

She bit her lip to hide a grin and removed a cigar from the box. She turned back to the room and shot Prospero a look again, he was still not watching her. Apparently, he was quite engrossed in the book, which would give her father no end of delight.

Elise sat down in an armchair opposite him. "Nice night, isn't it?" she asked in that low, mannish voice she'd spent weeks practicing.

"Yes, it—" Prospero's head shot up and he stared at her, really stared at her this time. "Good God, it's you under all that, isn't it?"

She beamed in pride and triumph. "Do you think it will fool the men at the club?" she asked with a devious chuckle as she stood up.

"I rather think it will. If I hadn't seen..." His words trailed off abruptly.

"If you hadn't seen what?"

"Er... it isn't polite of me to say."

"I'm not studying politeness," she reminded him.

"Well... Two things. I noticed your shapely bottom, but most men won't think much of it because they aren't looking for a woman's bottom in a man's trousers, so they won't expect it."

"And the other thing?"

His face colored a little more. "You're a little... flat." He nodded at her.

"Yes, I'm well aware. I had to bind my breasts." She patted her flat chest with pride, but her breath caught when his gaze dropped immediately to her chest as if studying where on earth her breasts had gone. Heat creeped across her face, and she forced herself to forget the fact that he was staring at her breasts, even hidden as they were.

This time he was the one chuckling. "Not your breasts. Your groin. You need to have some shape there. That is something some men might notice right away. They may not be able to put their finger on what it is at first glance, but if they start to really look at you, it will raise questions."

"Oh..." She blushed. "Is this something you men often do? Study each other's... groins?"

His face turned a ruddy color. "Not exactly. Well, I mean, there are always some men who obsess over their... size compared to others. But not me. I'm content with myself as I am. But many of us do... notice other men, from a comparative standpoint."

"What should I do, then?"

He stood and removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and a second one from his trouser pocket, and he unfolded them and then loosely bundled them up together and handed them to her.

"Place that... here." He pointed at his own groin, and she swallowed hard as she looked at the outline of a bulge in his trousers. He was definitely not small, considering the other sizes she'd encountered between the Greek statues and the bodies she'd glimpsed at the mortuary during an autopsy.

"But your bulge is so large. This won't make me look that size..."

He winked at her. "Thank you for the compliment. But don't worry. Most men aren't terribly large. With this, you should do just fine." Then he turned his back to her, allowing her a moment of privacy to unfasten her trousers and tuck the wadded-up cloth into the right spot. She refastened her trousers and faced him again.

"Is this better?"

Prospero turned back around and stared at her groin openly.

"Much better." He swept his gaze over the rest of her with a critical eye. "Is that a wig?" She nodded. "Well, I must say you look like a very pretty man, but you do still manage to look like a man. Somehow. I hope that doesn't offend you."

"On the contrary, it pleases me greatly. I've spent a lot of time working on this costume. Thankfully, my taller figure and decent shoulders help fill out the coat. Shall we?"

"We might as well." He put the railway book aside but didn't offer her his arm. It took her a moment to realize why, but when she did she had to grin.

"What?" he asked, a suspicious look on his face.

"You didn't offer me your arm. You're thinking of me like a man already."

Understanding dawned in his eyes. "My God, you're right."

She clapped her hands and almost squealed in delight.

"Now, don't do that. That is female behavior, little naturalist. Try this instead." He clenched a fist and raised it in a gesture as though to cheer and exclaimed, "Jolly good! The key is learning our body language more." He waved at her. "Is that how you stand at ease?"

She glanced down at herself. "Well, yes."

"Try this instead."

He leaned casually against the doorjamb, one shoulder braced on the frame and his legs crossed at the ankles while he folded his arms over his chest in a very arrogant, relaxed, and utterly masculine look.

"So you lean against something, even though you have the strength to stand upright? I've always wondered why men do this. It's as though you are conveying a relaxed behavior while also being slightly dominating. Whatever you lean against, you own?" she suggested.

"You know... I never thought of it like that, but yes. Now you try it." He stepped back so she could take his place.

Elise leaned in the same manner and looked up at him for approval. Prospero studied her critically for a moment before he adjusted her arms and placed his hands on her waist, tilting her hips in toward the door more. The way he moved her body with such confidence sent a thrill through her that she didn't quite understood. She didn't like the idea of a man touching her like that, but whenever Prospero touched her, she seemed to, well... light up and glow from the inside out.

"Yes, there we are. You now look like a handsome fellow ready to break the hearts of women everywhere... perhaps even a few men." He winked at her.

"Even you?" she asked, half teasing, but his playful smile vanished and his eyes darkened. Then he ever so slowly leaned in and kissed her. She didn't even have time to react before it was over. He drew back a second later, laughing softly, but she felt her knees tremble traitorously.

"Christ, the mustache does tickle." He rubbed his upper lip, making Elise laugh. It was rather delightfully amusing.

Someone behind them gasped, and there was a loud clang as something hit the floor. They both turned to see a footman standing there gaping at them.

She pointed at her wig. "It's me, Thomas."

"Begging your pardon, miss. I didn't know." The young footman hastily collected the silver tray he'd been carrying and rushed away.

Elise was giggling again. "Poor Thomas."

"You'll have to stop that at the club as well. No adorable giggling," Prospero declared in a mock stern voice. He covered her mouth with his hand playfully, trying to stifle her giggles. She lost her breath as their eyes met, and he slowly lowered his hand, their mouths almost close enough for another kiss. It took quite a bit of control for her to speak.

"Your... er... advice is noted," Elise said. "I think I've giggled more with you around than I have in years. But I promise not to giggle at the club."

"Try snorting a laugh instead if you feel the need to... giggle." He suggested this with such mock seriousness that she immediately had to try the snort out. He appeared satisfied.

"I am ready. Let's conquer the world of the gentlemen's club."

Prospero looked heavenward, as if praying for divine intervention, but she caught a hint of a smile on him as they headed for the door.

What an adventure this will be, she thought. She was about to sneak into one of the most secretive male realms in England to research her subjects up close in their natural habitat, the way the very best naturalists would. This wager with Sherlock Holmes was going to be all too easy to win.