Chapter 3

A/N: This has been on the backburner for a while, but I was hit by new inspiration today, and this just sorta appeared. It is going somewhere, just rather slowly ;-)

Jonathan would have considered it one of his better ideas, had it not backfired quite so spectacularly. He had only intended to introduce his new acquaintance to Evy in order to make her feel more comfortable, to reassure her that his intentions were honourable, and that he was not just some opportunistic womaniser looking for lonely and vulnerable ladies to prey upon. Well, not on this occasion. Then he had planned to take advantage of one of the awkward pauses that always occur once the niceties are taken care of, and recapture her attention with his irrepressible charm to entertain her for the rest of the afternoon.

The only problem with that plan was that the instant the two women had overcome their natural social awkwardness and engaged in conversation, it had been impossible to get a word in edgeways. Jonathan was now left feeling completely surplus to requirement as he made the obligatory noises of interest or surprise, nodding or shaking his head as appropriate, while the two women continued to discover new points of common interest, from the current hem length or style of hat to the discovery of their fathers' mutual profession.

"Your father was professor Reisner?" Evy had exclaimed excitedly upon hearing about Maryanne's late father. "Professor Earnest Reisner, who discovered the tomb of Queen Hetepheres at Giza? But my father knew him! They worked on a dig together in Saqqara back before the war!"

That had been it then, the two of them had been lost in comparing reminiscences of life as the daughter of a great Egyptian explorer. Jonathan had long since given up any hope of steering the conversation in a more interesting direction, since Evy had successfully blocked his every attempt thus far. He was about to offer to fetch more iced teas when he was greeted by the most unwelcome sight of Maryanne's husband walking agitatedly towards them.

"Maryanne, my dear," professor Chamberlain said in his best imitation of good natured displeasure as he approached his errant wife, "I said I would call for you at six-thirty. It is now..." Retrieving a silver pocket watch from his waistcoat he flipped open the casing and gave it a brief glance. "...Six-forty-three, leaving you only seventeen minutes to dress for dinner."

Jonathan's face twitched. Even if he hadn't already been irritated with the man for being his new infatuation's husband, he would have felt the same instant dislike of him at the obvious discomfort his reproach caused Maryanne. He had a good mind to tell him his wife looked utterly stunning as she was, that to alter even one aspect of her appearance would be to meddle with perfection, and that if he did not see it himself then for all the letters after his name he had to be one of the stupidest men who had ever drawn breath.

However, past experience told him such comments would not be well received. In the course of his high-risk romantic endeavours he had become accustomed to dealing with husbands, relying on his savoir faire to talk his way out of countless suspicious looking (and rightly so) situations. Fortunately on this occasion he was spared the charge of impropriety by his sister's presence. So, with his usual brazen charm he allowed himself to presume on his short acquaintance with Mrs Chamberlain to adopt a casual manner towards the man he already resented.

"I'm sorry old chap, I'm afraid it was me who kidnapped your lovely wife," he said as he took off his panama with a sheepish little bow towards the offended husband. "Jonathan Carnahan. I'm travelling with my sister, and thought the two ladies might benefit from each other's company."

The professor smiled tightly, obviously still impatient to go to dinner and irritated by the need to observe formalities. "Arthur Chamberlain, Professor of Egyptology at Harvard University," he said pompously as he tipped the ridiculously incongruous fez hat that he must think lent him an air of authenticity among the locals. Jonathan just thought it made him look like an organ grinder's monkey in a linen suit. "Perhaps we might have a chance to become better acquainted at dinner."

It seemed that was all the courtesy Jonathan could expect from the man, who made to take his wife's arm and turned to leave. Maryanne, however, seemed conscious of his bad manners, and her embarrassment was another thing Jonathan could not forgive the professor for.

"Arthur, dear," she said awkwardly, attempting to steer him back round to face her new friends, "Jonathan and his sister, Evelyn, are Egyptologists as well." Jonathan thought that was a rather generous assessment in his case, for which he felt a strange rush of warmth to the pit of his stomach. "Their father was Howard Carnahan, the archaeologist and water colour artist who helped document some of the findings from Tutankhamen's tomb. He worked with my father too, on his last dig in Saqqara before he retired from fieldwork. I'm sure the four of us will have much to talk about. Couldn't we get a table together at dinner?"

Jonathan glanced at her questioningly before resuming his polite smile at the professor. Was she really so eager to discuss their common archaeological interests, or did she just want a little respite from the tedious company of her husband? Or was she hoping, like he was, that Evy and the professor would become so engrossed in academic debate it would afford them the opportunity to get better acquainted?

The professor gave that strained smile again, but as refusing would have been too impolite even for him, he reluctantly acquiesced. "Of course, my dear, I would be delighted," he said with a patronisingly pat of her hand on his arm, causing Jonathan to clench his jaw in irritation. But his smile was back in place by the time the professor turned to him again. "Shall we meet in the saloon at quarter-past-seven, or do the ladies require a little longer?"

Never one to admit to any kind of feminine weakness, Evelyn turned to Maryanne with a beaming smile. "I'm sure we ladies can be ready by then, don't you think?" Then leaning towards her she added in a hushed tone, "I don't know about you, but I didn't exactly pack for social engagements. I'm only going to change my blouse and put on a fresh pair of stockings!"

Maryanne smiled back, thinking how wonderful it must be to be free of the constraints of decorum, until she caught a glimpse of the scandalised expression on her husband's face. In the Boston society he had been brought up in, ladies always dressed for dinner.

"I might be a little longer," she said apologetically. "Arthur dear, the three of you go ahead. I'll join you when I'm ready."

Jonathan did a bad job of masking his disappointment as the professor led his wife back up the deck to their cabin. "Wonderful," he muttered to Evelyn as he kicked at a loose plank of decking. "Now we get stuck with that jolly bugger for half the evening. Well, as I have no intention of putting on a fresh pair of stockings for dinner, if you don't mind I'm going to go get myself a bloody great big scotch. See you in there."

With that he walked off in the direction of the saloon.

A/N: Meh, it's an ok chapter. I'm enjoying getting back into Jonathan though. I forgot how much fun he is to write!