Awakening The Shy Miss. Bronwyn Scott

he’d suggested a Roman general’s villa was here in the rolling hills of West Sussex and that information was paying off in spades.

      His gaze found Evie at her table and he smiled. Evie’s pile of drawings grew by the day, drawings that would serve as illustrations in the book he would put together on the excavation, as well as drawings he would archive for the museum in Kuban. She made not just one copy, but three of the same item, each one a brilliant replica, each one a product of her patience. She had an aptitude for the art and for the organisation of it. Stefon, impressed, had told him how Evie had overhauled their usual organisation system and made it more efficient.

      She made his own days more efficient too in ways she probably didn’t realise. Did she know how much he looked forward to their brief conferences that started and ended each day? He liked the routine of that—of looking forward to talking with her at the beginning of the day when everything was fresh and new. They would talk about the prospects for the day, what he hoped to find, hoped to do. To speak his hopes out loud gave his day structure. They would end the day much the same way: a brief discussion of whether or not those hopes had materialised. It was a good way to put the day to bed.