Page 77 of For the Duke's Eyes Only

“Kindly pull yourself together, you’re acting like a complete ninny.”

“I’m the Ravenwood you know and loathe.”

“You can say that again.”

“I’m the—”

“Not literally,” she huffed. “Come along now. We have an antiquity to hunt.”

They entered from the Place du Museum on the ground floor of the Old Louvre, which housed the Museum of French Sculpture and the Museum of Antiquities. Indy had brought Beauchamp’s catalogue of the Gallery of Egyptian Antiquities, which listed in detail the more than nine thousand pieces they’d acquired from private collections including those of the former King Louis XVIII.

“It says here that they have recently acquired a very interesting mummified cat,” said Indy, leafing through the booklet as they waited behind another tourist at the front desk.

The museum was only open to the public on Sundays, but foreigners with passports could enter by writing down their names and addresses.

“Is Monsieur Beauchamp on the premises?” Indy asked the bored-looking clerk in French when it was their turn.

“Yes, Madame, he is here but he is very busy at the moment.”

“Please inform him that the Duke of Ravenwood and Lady India Rochester are here to see him.”

“Dukes and ladies,” said the clerk, as if those were two of the things he found most annoying in life. “Dukes and ladies do not take precedence over very large, very heavy and fragile shipments of antiquities that just arrived today.”

Indy met Raven’s gaze. This could be it. Beauchamp could be unpacking the Rosetta Stone as they stood here.

“Monsieur Beauchamp knows me,” Indy said firmly. “Don’t mention the duke part, only the lady. He’ll want to see me.”

The clerk’s eyes traveled over her plain attire. “Lady...”

“Lady India Rochester. We’ll walk through the Antiquities rooms and wait for him in the Egyptian gallery.”

“Oh very well. I’ll inform him you’re here.” He snapped his fingers and a young page scurried to the desk to do his bidding.

They walked through the rooms of the Gallery of Egyptian Antiquities, Indy pointing out items of particular interest.

“It’s built on a grander scale than the British Museum,” remarked Raven. “Used to be a palace, I believe.”

“One of the most ancient palaces in France,” she replied.

“What does the nameLouvremean? I’ve never bothered to research it.”

Indy thumbed to the beginning of the catalogue. “Some have derived it from Lupara, a wolf, because it was formerly surrounded by a thick forest, much infested by wolves. Others have derived it from the Saxon wordLower, a chateau; and others, with more probability, from the ancient Gaulic wordOuvre,” she read aloud. “Signifying the beauty of its architecture.”

“It is magnificent.”

“Outside of archaeological expeditions, the place I feel most at home is in museums. Every painting, sculpture, and relic has a complex story that isn’t readily visible to the untrained eye.”

Communing with the art and artifacts of people long dead was endlessly fascinating. It was also her safe haven.

Usually museums made her feel calm and peaceful.

Today she was on high alert.

In the Salle de Candelabre Indy stopped in front of one of her favorite pieces, a towering marble statue of a goddess. “Have you seen her yet?” she asked Raven. “They call her Venus de Milo, because she was found on the island of Melos by a Greek farmer.”

“I’ve heard of her but never had the pleasure. She’s very beautiful. But where are her arms?”

“They never found them. Personally, I don’t think she’s a Venus at all. I think if they had found her arms, she would have been holding a spear and leading a charge as Victory.”

---