around and bumped into someone. She looked up into bright blue eyes. Conan Ryan, the blond Adonis! Flustered, she almost called him by the Greek god’s name. Her cheeks felt hot.
“We meet again!” he said, grasping her hand in a kind of handshake. “Looks confusing, doesn’t it? It’s almost always like this, though.” He stopped a worker going by and pointed him in a different direction. Germaine frowned, puzzled. He laughed, pointing to another open truck coming into the car park.
“My business,” he shouted over the truck’s noise. “Brigantia Ltd. We do Rescue Archaeology. We save whatever gets in the way of modern progress. Only it’s usually some new highway or a shopping center construction that does the damage. Not a bomb!” He gave a wide grin and grabbed her out of the way of an oncoming water truck. With his protective arm around her, Germaine quickly decided this unusual dig could be very interesting.
“Conan!” Aubrey appeared suddenly out of the chaos and shook Conan’s hand. He nodded toward Germaine.
“Dr. O’Neill is helping me out. Come along, Germaine, there are people you must meet,”
Conan smiled at her, gave an exaggerated salute to Aubrey, and walked off. Aubrey was very much a director, sometimes even a dictator. He led her toward a group of well-dressed men in suits.
“English Heritage folk,” he said in a low voice.
One was especially notable, tall with fine, silvery hair. “That’s Charles Peregrine Sackville,” Aubrey said. “But only his family and close friends ever use that name. I know it because we went to school together before he inherited the Earl’s title from his father. Now, he is always called Lord Dorset or sometimes just ‘Dorset,’ if you know him well enough. I don’t. He doesn’t encourage familiarity. And by the way, he has an extensive collection of prehistoric artifacts. None better.”
When Aubrey introduced her, Lord Dorset gave a polite, but questioning look.
“Dr. Germaine O’Neill. I’ve asked her to be my assistant and project director.” She barely concealed her surprise at this announcement. This was quite a few steps above just “helping out.”
At first, Lord Dorset’s look was unsettling, then she realized why. Up close—and she hoped her surprise didn’t show—she realized his right eye was glass. Anatomically correct, it didn’t move. But his left eye did. His gaze was very disconcerting. But he had a gracious manner. He said the right things, asked the right questions. His bearing seemed so regal, she half-wondered if she should curtsey.
And all the time, the left eye never wavered from her. He is sizing me up with every comment, she thought. Nothing is going unnoticed behind that cool facade.
“Maiden Castle is a favorite of mine. One of my particular areas of interest at university was the Iron Age,” Lord Dorset said. “Sir Aubrey tells me you are quite an expert in that time period.” He gave her a thin smile. “I like to seek out people who have similar interests. I have a great interest in collecting various artifacts from prehistory. You must come see it sometime. Our family seat is nearby at Frome Abbey.”
Germaine thought this more of a regal pronouncement than a conversation.
A moment later, Lord Dorset excused himself and walked off toward Conan Ryan. Germaine watched him move through the crowd. He looked like an elegant stork amongst a group of ducks. She felt uneasy about the conversation.
“It’s disconcerting to talk to someone with only one eye,” she said, as she and Aubrey walked away. “For some reason, I found it annoying. I kept feeling cross-eyed. Like both my eyes were trying to focus on his one eye.” And there was something else about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Aubrey made a low sound of agreement. “By the way, my dear, he lost that eye in a fight. It’s not a romantic story. Nothing honorable like being in the war. Some bloke owed him money, and
“We meet again!” he said, grasping her hand in a kind of handshake. “Looks confusing, doesn’t it? It’s almost always like this, though.” He stopped a worker going by and pointed him in a different direction. Germaine frowned, puzzled. He laughed, pointing to another open truck coming into the car park.
“My business,” he shouted over the truck’s noise. “Brigantia Ltd. We do Rescue Archaeology. We save whatever gets in the way of modern progress. Only it’s usually some new highway or a shopping center construction that does the damage. Not a bomb!” He gave a wide grin and grabbed her out of the way of an oncoming water truck. With his protective arm around her, Germaine quickly decided this unusual dig could be very interesting.
“Conan!” Aubrey appeared suddenly out of the chaos and shook Conan’s hand. He nodded toward Germaine.
“Dr. O’Neill is helping me out. Come along, Germaine, there are people you must meet,”
Conan smiled at her, gave an exaggerated salute to Aubrey, and walked off. Aubrey was very much a director, sometimes even a dictator. He led her toward a group of well-dressed men in suits.
“English Heritage folk,” he said in a low voice.
One was especially notable, tall with fine, silvery hair. “That’s Charles Peregrine Sackville,” Aubrey said. “But only his family and close friends ever use that name. I know it because we went to school together before he inherited the Earl’s title from his father. Now, he is always called Lord Dorset or sometimes just ‘Dorset,’ if you know him well enough. I don’t. He doesn’t encourage familiarity. And by the way, he has an extensive collection of prehistoric artifacts. None better.”
When Aubrey introduced her, Lord Dorset gave a polite, but questioning look.
“Dr. Germaine O’Neill. I’ve asked her to be my assistant and project director.” She barely concealed her surprise at this announcement. This was quite a few steps above just “helping out.”
At first, Lord Dorset’s look was unsettling, then she realized why. Up close—and she hoped her surprise didn’t show—she realized his right eye was glass. Anatomically correct, it didn’t move. But his left eye did. His gaze was very disconcerting. But he had a gracious manner. He said the right things, asked the right questions. His bearing seemed so regal, she half-wondered if she should curtsey.
And all the time, the left eye never wavered from her. He is sizing me up with every comment, she thought. Nothing is going unnoticed behind that cool facade.
“Maiden Castle is a favorite of mine. One of my particular areas of interest at university was the Iron Age,” Lord Dorset said. “Sir Aubrey tells me you are quite an expert in that time period.” He gave her a thin smile. “I like to seek out people who have similar interests. I have a great interest in collecting various artifacts from prehistory. You must come see it sometime. Our family seat is nearby at Frome Abbey.”
Germaine thought this more of a regal pronouncement than a conversation.
A moment later, Lord Dorset excused himself and walked off toward Conan Ryan. Germaine watched him move through the crowd. He looked like an elegant stork amongst a group of ducks. She felt uneasy about the conversation.
“It’s disconcerting to talk to someone with only one eye,” she said, as she and Aubrey walked away. “For some reason, I found it annoying. I kept feeling cross-eyed. Like both my eyes were trying to focus on his one eye.” And there was something else about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Aubrey made a low sound of agreement. “By the way, my dear, he lost that eye in a fight. It’s not a romantic story. Nothing honorable like being in the war. Some bloke owed him money, and
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