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history? Or are you just covering the dig because . . . well, because?”
    â€œI’m interested, but afraid I know squat about it.” I’d already decided that it would be dangerous to try to pass myself off as someone interested in history around a group of people who fairly dripped expertise on the subject. “And a friend’s friend is married to the owner, so she was happy to let me putter around taking pictures.”
    â€œYou’re a friend of the baroness?” Daria looked impressed.
    â€œI’ve met her a couple of times, but that was years ago. She’s a friend of my roommate’s, actually.”
    â€œWhat made you choose us for your book if you’re not overly keen on Roman history?”
    Guilt dug deep in my gut. “Well, I’ve always wanted to come to England, and when I read about the dig and the TV program that would be filming it, I suddenly had an idea for a behind-the-scenes book. I know those have been popular for other reality shows, and thought that maybe people would like one about an archaeology dig.”
    She blinked at me, but said nothing.
    My palms started to sweat. “Have you seen the producer’s other reality shows? They all had books done about them, and they were really popular, so he—Roger d’Aspry—was totally on board when I suggested doing a book for this project. It may be a bit unorthodox to record the filming of an archaeological dig, but Roger thinks it will do well.”
    To my relief, she smiled. “Well, I think it’s impressive that you’re going to publish a book about us—about the dig. I’ll be sure to make everyone in my family buy a copy.”
    The guilt in my gut dug deeper. How many more lies would I have to dish out before I could go home with the proof I needed? “That would be awesome.”
    â€œWhat’s the name of the book?”
    â€œEr . . . I haven’t picked one yet.”
    â€œHow long will it be? Will it be one of those coffee table books, or something smaller?”
    I was in hell, liar’s hell. This was what came to people who wantonly told untruths, my conscience told me with smug satisfaction. I squirmed slightly, trying to think of something to end the conversation. “I’m afraid I can’t talk about it yet.”
    â€œTop secret, eh?” Daria said, nodding knowingly. “I heard authors are like that.”
    I tried to summon up a confident smile, but failed. “More like inspiration hasn’t yet struck.”
    â€œLet’s just hope that we have a productive month to justify a book about us.” Daria watched as Sue argued with Roger d’Aspry, noted producer of various British reality TV shows. “There they go, at it again. You’ve met both of them, yes?”
    â€œI met Sue when I got here, although I actually met Roger two days ago in London. I was a bit of a fangirl,I’m afraid. I loved the show he produced with an American woman who played a duchess during a monthlong Victorian reenactment.”
    Daria squinted in thought. “Oh, I think I remember that. There was some controversy around it, wasn’t there? Sabotage or something?”
    â€œI don’t know anything about that. I just thought it was cool, and of course, it was interesting that the lead couple hooked up in real life. I mean, that’s kind of a fairy tale, isn’t it?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    As I watched Sue and Roger, my thoughts turned to just how wonderful it would be to meet a man I could trust, one who wouldn’t use his power against me, one who would be there beside me, supportive and loving and sexy as sin. “There’s nothing like that in my future, for sure,” I said on a sigh.
    â€œNothing like what? Arguments with a bossy producer? Don’t fool yourself—I worked with Roger on the
Anglopalooza
show he did two years ago—we tried to locate an Anglo-Saxon