she desired would be about as useful as telling the sun not to shine.
“But, Jenny,” he said as gently as he could, rather overwhelmed by his newly acquired status as hero, “I do not intend to stay in any of those cities. Doubtless I will pass through some of them, but I am not touring. I have . . . business to undertake.”
“In the desert?” Jenny asked, and the glow in her eyes diminished not a whit. “I should like to see the Egyptian desert—camels, jackals, ruins of ancient temples. I think the Egyptian desert would be far more interesting than our American versions.”
Neville was determined to nip this romanticism in the bud. “Camels are foul creatures—bad tempered and smelly. Jackals are not nearly as romantic as timber wolves, nasty scavengers that they are, and ruins are not at all what you might expect from the picture postcards.”
Jenny dismissed this with a wave of her hand.
“Camels can’t be worse than jack mules, and scavengers aren’t nasty. They’re useful. As for ruins, well, I’ve seen some that the old-time Indians left back home, and most of that’s mud bricks, bits of stone tools, and busted pots. I liked that just fine, so I don’t figure Egypt could disappoint.”
Neville thought furiously, hunting for any way out other than bald refusal, a thing he already had reason to believe this pert American miss would find offensive.
“Jenny, my expedition is entirely male. It would not be proper for you to travel in such company.”
Jenny shrugged. “I’m sure that where it will matter there will be some woman about, and I’ll just attach myself to her if needed. If there’s no one around to care, well, then, who will care?”
There was a certain logic to her argument, but Neville refused to be seduced.
“Currently, my expedition is very small—myself and two other men. Only one of those men is married, and so could be expected to understand a woman’s needs and temperament. You ask a great deal of two bachelors.”
Jenny didn’t press the point, but Neville didn’t think this was because she had resigned herself to remaining behind.
He had been planning on leaving Jenny because he had assumed she would want to remain in London. After all, there were the autumn and winter social seasons yet to come. She would be novelty enough to be invited to numerous balls and fetes—she might even land a good husband.
Still, if Jenny really wanted to accompany him, perhaps he could hire some army wife to assume the role of chaperon once he went into the field. Neville did feel rather bad about abandoning the girl so soon after her arrival, and this would ease his conscience and let him settle her where she could at least tour the museums and local ruins. A compromise might be best.
“Woolgathering, Uncle Neville?” Jenny asked, her tone amused. “I’ve asked three times. Who are the other members of your expedition?”
Neville could think of no reason not to answer.
“The only one traveling with me from England is Stephen David Holmboe, a linguist whose specialization is the ancient Egyptian language. In Egypt we will be met by Edward Bryce, a soldier with whom I once served. He has local contacts, and will be quartermaster for our group.”
And military support, Neville thought. No need to tell Jenny that, though, nor explain Eddie’s peculiar lifestyle over there.
“Linguist and specialist in the ancient Egyptian language,” Jenny mused aloud. “And a quartermaster. And going away from the cities. That sounds like you’re going treasure hunting.”
“Not precisely,” Neville replied frostily.
“I’m sorry,” Jenny apologized quickly. “I’ve rubbed you raw. I forgot. Treasure hunting’s not good form any more, is it? People don’t hunt for treasure. They search for antiquities that will reveal to us knowledge about lost civilizations. Seems to me the thrill would be about the same.”
Neville shook his head in mock chagrin.
“You’re not responding
“But, Jenny,” he said as gently as he could, rather overwhelmed by his newly acquired status as hero, “I do not intend to stay in any of those cities. Doubtless I will pass through some of them, but I am not touring. I have . . . business to undertake.”
“In the desert?” Jenny asked, and the glow in her eyes diminished not a whit. “I should like to see the Egyptian desert—camels, jackals, ruins of ancient temples. I think the Egyptian desert would be far more interesting than our American versions.”
Neville was determined to nip this romanticism in the bud. “Camels are foul creatures—bad tempered and smelly. Jackals are not nearly as romantic as timber wolves, nasty scavengers that they are, and ruins are not at all what you might expect from the picture postcards.”
Jenny dismissed this with a wave of her hand.
“Camels can’t be worse than jack mules, and scavengers aren’t nasty. They’re useful. As for ruins, well, I’ve seen some that the old-time Indians left back home, and most of that’s mud bricks, bits of stone tools, and busted pots. I liked that just fine, so I don’t figure Egypt could disappoint.”
Neville thought furiously, hunting for any way out other than bald refusal, a thing he already had reason to believe this pert American miss would find offensive.
“Jenny, my expedition is entirely male. It would not be proper for you to travel in such company.”
Jenny shrugged. “I’m sure that where it will matter there will be some woman about, and I’ll just attach myself to her if needed. If there’s no one around to care, well, then, who will care?”
There was a certain logic to her argument, but Neville refused to be seduced.
“Currently, my expedition is very small—myself and two other men. Only one of those men is married, and so could be expected to understand a woman’s needs and temperament. You ask a great deal of two bachelors.”
Jenny didn’t press the point, but Neville didn’t think this was because she had resigned herself to remaining behind.
He had been planning on leaving Jenny because he had assumed she would want to remain in London. After all, there were the autumn and winter social seasons yet to come. She would be novelty enough to be invited to numerous balls and fetes—she might even land a good husband.
Still, if Jenny really wanted to accompany him, perhaps he could hire some army wife to assume the role of chaperon once he went into the field. Neville did feel rather bad about abandoning the girl so soon after her arrival, and this would ease his conscience and let him settle her where she could at least tour the museums and local ruins. A compromise might be best.
“Woolgathering, Uncle Neville?” Jenny asked, her tone amused. “I’ve asked three times. Who are the other members of your expedition?”
Neville could think of no reason not to answer.
“The only one traveling with me from England is Stephen David Holmboe, a linguist whose specialization is the ancient Egyptian language. In Egypt we will be met by Edward Bryce, a soldier with whom I once served. He has local contacts, and will be quartermaster for our group.”
And military support, Neville thought. No need to tell Jenny that, though, nor explain Eddie’s peculiar lifestyle over there.
“Linguist and specialist in the ancient Egyptian language,” Jenny mused aloud. “And a quartermaster. And going away from the cities. That sounds like you’re going treasure hunting.”
“Not precisely,” Neville replied frostily.
“I’m sorry,” Jenny apologized quickly. “I’ve rubbed you raw. I forgot. Treasure hunting’s not good form any more, is it? People don’t hunt for treasure. They search for antiquities that will reveal to us knowledge about lost civilizations. Seems to me the thrill would be about the same.”
Neville shook his head in mock chagrin.
“You’re not responding
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