A Curse of the Heart Read Online Free

to face him.
    “Surely, you understand the logic in my questioning,” he said, feeling a strange urge to banish those tears, to see her eyes bright and bold once again. “Surely, you understand how the mind can play its tricks. How easy it is in times of fear to believe in the illogical.”
    “I do,” she replied, “but you have not heard the cries. You have not felt your bed shake, felt the floor shudder beneath your feet.” She sucked in a breath, and he could see she was shaking. “People almost died, Mr. Stone, and it is all my fault.” Anger surfaced as she yanked her arm free from his grasp, anger mixed with a look of disappointment and she struggled to meet his gaze. “It is not your concern,” she said. “I was mistaken. You are not the man I hoped you would be.”
    Gabriel let her go, watched her run through the door and did nothing.
    He felt her words like a fresh sting, his body throbbing and sore with his own inadequacy. It was not a new feeling. He had lived with the same pain for years. Had he been any other man, he would have chased after her; he would have pulled her into an embrace, eased her fears, and pledged his help.
    Yet even in his melancholic mood, he could not quash the urge to return to his work. He could not abandon the need to fulfill his ambition. And so he wandered over to the parchment and let Becanus be his solace. As studying the ancient world was the only thing he knew how to do.
    When the old words failed to rouse his interest, he glanced back over his shoulder and stared at the open door.
    Perhaps he should visit Miss Linwood’s museum and try one last time to convince her of her error. Perhaps he would find something of interest amongst the relics, something to nurture his passion, something to feed his obsession. Then he would walk away from her, happy in the knowledge he had done his best.

 
    Chapter 4
     
    Gabriel stood outside Miss Linwood’s museum: an elegant townhouse in Coventry Street, and surveyed the exterior.
    His first thought was that her father must have been wealthy, or perhaps she had a gentleman sponsor whose interest extended beyond the preservation of historical objects. Feeling the urge to banish the thought from his mind, he focused on the facade. The impressive Doric columns supporting the portico reflected the character of its owner perfectly, as they suggested pride, strength and a wealth of wisdom.
    Miss Linwood had impressed him with her knowledge of Becanus. If she truly could translate Coptic script, then she may prove to be a valuable asset. This, he decided, was the reason he chose to seek her out. He would help her to see that the curse was something concocted by the imagination. In return, she would make herself available should he find himself in need of a translator.
    After paying the entrance fee, he wandered around the downstairs rooms, moving past an array of nautical paintings as he had no interest in them. Then he discovered that the Egyptian antiquities were on the upper floor. So he decided to peruse the objects, in the hope of clarifying whether the lady was a fraud or a person to be admired in their field of expertise.
    There were more than twenty people milling about upstairs, browsing the various display cases and plinths supporting masks and statues. In an area separated by a length of red rope, there was an assortment of stone tablets, some of them as tall and as wide as a man.
    Without revealing his impatience, he waited to examine the first display, disappointed to find nothing but an old toothpick and ivory combs carved into the shapes of animals. The display of canopic jars proved to be a little more interesting, and he scanned the cards to check for errors.
    “Do you have a particular interest in canopic jars, Mr. Stone?”
    Her soft, melodic tone caused the hairs on his nape to tingle. When he turned to face her, he was surprised to find her wearing a rather dreary looking dress.
    “I have an interest in anything