She paused at the door. “Good.”
“What do you mean good?” he called after her but the door was already closing behind her.
What on earth had come over him? He turned back to the railing, braced his hands on the cool metal and stared out into the night. He asked to kiss her! He’d never asked a woman if he could kiss her before. It had never been necessary to ask permission. And Sidney Gordon was not at all the type of woman that usually attracted him. Perhaps this was the kind of thing that happened when one spent all one’s time in the company of a woman who was intelligent and amusing and far more attractive than she realized. It might be attributable to all that boundless enthusiasm. There was something about her that was appealing. Most appealing. But still—
“How did you manage to get her alone?” Corbin joined him at the railing. “I’ve been trying for days.”
“Have you?” Harry had no desire to discuss Sidney with the reporter.
“Indeed I have.” Corbin chuckled. “She’s quite fetching, don’t you think?”
Harry shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Come now. I daresay every man on this ship has noticed,” Corbin said. “The woman is a breath of fresh spring air. And a talented writer as well. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like her.”
“Yes, well, she is unique.”
“As are her companions.” Corbin shuddered. “How did you manage to evade them?”
Obviously Corbin was not going to leave without an answer. “They’re on the committee for tonight’s masked ball. They were called away to deal with an unexpected problem. Something to do with a box of missing masks.”
“They were talking about that earlier,” Corbin said thoughtfully. “Lady Blodgett and the other ladies agreed they could not recall signing up for the committee.”
“They are getting on in years. A certain amount of forgetfulness is to be expected.”
Corbin stared. “This is your doing, isn’t it? You signed them up and misplaced the masks.”
Harry was not about to admit to anything but he couldn’t hide a small, satisfied smile.
Corbin laughed. “Excellent, Armstrong. I wish I’d thought of it myself.” He adopted a casual note. “So was your conversation successful? Did Mrs. Gordon make a complete confession?”
“Why do you ask?” He straightened and glanced at the reporter. “I thought your purpose was to write about the return of the Queen of the Desert to Egypt.”
“It is and I disagree with your theory about her legitimacy entirely. I find her work most credible.”
Harry snorted.
“But, I admit, I could be wrong. If I am, I want to know.”
“I can’t imagine your editor would be pleased with your attitude.”
“The truth, Armstrong, is not always what we want to hear.” Corbin paused. “If you’re right about her, well, that’s what I shall report. It’s a far more interesting story, really. One that could well change a career.”
“Oh?”
“Proving your assertion that Mrs. Gordon is a fraud is the kind of story that would be wasted on the Messenger. The kind of story that might get an enterprising reporter a position at a more impressive publication. The Times perhaps.”
“But it would ruin her.”
“As I said—the truth is often unpleasant but it is the truth nonetheless.” Corbin shrugged. “I must admit I’m surprised by your concern. After all, you and your uncle started this.”
“Yes, I suppose we did.” And regretting it more and more.
“Are you reconsidering your position?”
“Not at all,” he said curtly. “We shall be in Egypt in three days. Then we will know the validity of Mrs. Gordon’s writing and you shall have your story. One way or the other.”
“I have to admit—I do hope she’s legitimate.” Corbin gazed out at the star-filled sky. “She’s witty and amusing and quite attractive in a subtle sort of way. Frankly, I find her enchanting. A successful writer would be an excellent match for a man like me.”
“An ambitious man like you, you mean.”
“I have always been fond of widows.” Corbin grinned. “Her disproving your suspicions wouldn’t be the best story—as stories go—but it wouldn’t be a bad start toward working my way into her affections.”
“You would use your story to curry favor with her?”
“I don’t see why not, especially if it was the truth.”
Harry stared at him for a long moment. He wasn’t sure what to say or rather what he wanted to say. But the distinct need to protect Sidney from this man washed through him.
“I believe I shall return to the saloon now,” he said and started toward the door.
“Excellent suggestion, Armstrong.” Corbin followed behind. “Perhaps I can have another dance with the delightful Mrs. Gordon.”
“Perhaps,” Harry muttered. Not if I reach her first. Regardless of how they had left things, Harry was damned if he’d leave Sidney in Corbin’s grasp. But the reporter was right—Sidney was delightful. Bloody hell, he’d grown to like her. Although his request for a kiss had shocked him nearly as much as it had her. What had she done to him?
The oddest battle waged within him. On one hand, Harry knew he was right about Sidney’s stories and he was determined to prove it. On the other—his success would destroy her life. He’d be proved right but...
The real question now was whether or not it was worth it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“WHAT PRECISELY ARE we looking for?” Gwen peered into the distance.
“Egypt,” Effie said in a crisp manner. “Although I suspect all the flat, dull, brownish shoreline we’ve seen thus far is Egypt.”
“It’s rather underwhelming, isn’t it?” Poppy said under her breath.
“You can’t see anything yet.” Sidney resisted the urge to bounce on her feet in eagerness. Harry was right. She was blatantly enthusiastic but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Especially now that Egypt was within reach. “The coast of Egypt is flat, at least this part of it. We’re watching for the first glimpse of the lighthouse.”
They were not alone. Most of the passengers had gathered on this side of the steamer for the first sighting of the ancient city. They’d been told Alexandria would be in sight momentarily although Mr. Gilmore had warned the ladies there would not be much to see.
“But it’s not the original lighthouse,” Sidney added. “Not the one that was considered one of the seven wonders of the world. The Pharos of Alexandria collapsed centuries ago and some of it was then used in local building projects. It’s a pity it didn’t survive.”
“What’s a pity is that there isn’t anything of interest to look at. I did expect travel to be a bit more exciting. Thus far, it’s been rather tedious.” Effie peered around. “One does wonder where Mr. Corbin is. He’s always amusing.”
For the most part—Sidney agreed. Daniel was indeed always amusing and quite charming. He had scarcely left their side throughout much of the voyage. His absence now was not at all bothersome but rather something of a relief. His attentions, while flattering, were also a shade unnerving. She had the oddest feeling that there was more to Daniel’s attentiveness than might at first appear. It was probably no more than the nature of a reporter, a man used to ferreting out secrets. Sidney wasn’t sure where Daniel was but Harry was standing farther down the railing. Either the crowd was such that he couldn’t find a space near them or he was choosing to keep his distance. Wise of him really.
Sidney had told the ladies about Harry’s absurd offer, but not about the kiss that didn’t happen, and they agreed while his reasoning might be sound and they all needed to make a better effort to keep up Sidney’s subterfuge, it was certainly not too late. Effie, Poppy and Gwen agreed as well that since none of them were used to this kind of deception, they would surely g
et better with practice.
She glanced in his direction and caught him staring back. He grinned in that smug way he had and tipped his hat. She nodded politely and pointedly turned her attention back to the passing shore. She’d made it clear since the night on deck that she preferred anyone’s company to his.
Dear Lord, Sidney never imagined she’d spend days actively avoiding the man who could very nearly be the hero in her stories. Harry Armstrong certainly looked the part with all that golden, slightly unkempt hair, that perpetually shadowed firm jaw and those perceptive gray eyes of his. Add to that the man was tall with exceptionally broad shoulders and he was exactly the man of her, well, her writing at least if not her dreams. The embodiment of Richard Weatherly, the hero in all her stories. Millicent’s occasional partner in her adventures and the man who was trying to work his way into her heart even if his numerous flaws tended to keep them apart. And wasn’t Sidney trying to be the heroine of her own story?
Pity that, unlike Richard, Harry was so often stuffy and horribly arrogant. While he certainly did have any number of flaws, it was obvious that stuffy at least was not natural to him although she would not say the same for arrogant. When a man absolutely refused to leave your side for days on end, when he ate his meals with you and vied for you to be his partner when you played silly games, one could certainly get a good sense of his nature. She’d had glimpses of someone not quite so proper now and again. A hint of something wildly wicked. It was most exciting.
Sidney really didn’t know men at all but she assumed she was an excellent judge of human nature. After all, she wrote about characters readers believed were real. There was something about Harry—in spite of the fact that he and his uncle were trying to ruin her life—that made her think he was a good man. And amusing and adventurous and almost irresistible. Thank God she had her friends to protect her. Or possibly it was a great shame.
The man had wanted to kiss her. Her. Sidney Honeywell, imagine that. Rather average, ordinary, passable Sidney Honeywell. Who was neither beautiful nor plain but somewhere in between. Perhaps a shade more toward the pretty side which was probably no more than wishful thinking. Although her mother had said her blue eyes sparkled and her hair was the color of ripe lemons but that was the sort of thing a mother was supposed to say.
And apparently, Harry wasn’t alone. She was garnering a pleasant bit of male attention from some of the unattached officers and passengers as well as Harry. It certainly did boost one’s confidence and was enough to swell one’s head if one was not sensible and cautious and reasonably intelligent. Although Harry’s motives were obvious. Even so, there had been moments when he would laugh or go out of his way to be charming, or whisper some delightfully wry observation in her ear when one did wonder if there was more on his mind than proving he was right. And he had asked to kiss her.
He obviously didn’t like the attention Daniel paid her. There was the most interesting look in his eyes when Daniel was doing something—kissing her hand or gazing into her eyes or giving her the most absurd sort of compliment—that had no doubt tempted any number of ladies. With his walnut-colored hair and brown eyes the man was exceptionally handsome. But his charm struck her as vaguely rehearsed or overly practiced and she had a niggling feeling that he was not to be completely trusted. Not that he had done anything at all to confirm what was no more than the vaguest of suspicions. Regardless, the ladies seemed to like him and they were certainly more experienced with the nature of men than she.
“Is that it?” Poppy fairly squealed with excitement.
The coast was no different than it had been a few moments ago—flat and unbroken by a hill or a rise, the surf breaking on an endless expanse of sand. Low buildings had appeared, their grayish-brown color blending with their surroundings, as if they were part of the land itself. And there, rising out of the dust, was the lighthouse. It was remarkably unremarkable and Sidney tried to ignore a momentary twinge of disappointment.
“It’s extremely ordinary, isn’t it?” Harry said beside her.
“It always is,” she said coolly. “One cannot help but compare it to the legendary structure that once looked over the harbor.” No sooner had the words left her mouth but the first sight she had long awaited came into view as no more than a faint point on the horizon but recognizable nonetheless. She caught her breath and struggled to remain collected. “But then of course, the commonplace appearance of the lighthouse is forgiven the moment one again sees Pompey’s Pillar rising into the heavens.” While not Egyptian but Roman in origin and therefore rather young as Egyptian antiquities went, the granite pillar was the iconic symbol of Alexandria—at least to Sidney. More than anything it said she was at long last in Egypt.
“You do realize it’s not Egyptian?”
“I was just going to ask you the same thing.” She set her shoulders and stared up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I would be remiss if I did not join my party to disembark.” He paused. “And I wanted to apologize.”
“And which of your many rude comments do you wish to apologize for?”
He chuckled. “There haven’t been that many.”
She raised a skeptical brow.
“I’ve been trying very hard to be a congenial traveling companion.”
“You shall have to try harder.”
“Believe me, I will.” He hesitated then drew a breath. “I’ve been wanting to speak to you alone.”
“We’re not alone now.”
“No, but a crowd is often as private as a closed room.”
“What did you wish to say?”
He looked as if he had no idea what to say or perhaps how to say it. It was rather endearing. “I wanted to apologize.”
“You said that.” She studied him closely. He did appear reasonably contrite. “Very well, then. Given that we are indeed traveling companions, I accept your apology and suggest we say nothing further about it.”
“Excellent.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m not sure what came over me. I can assure you, I have never asked a woman if I might kiss her before.”
Behind her one of the ladies choked.
“Frankly, I’ve never had to.” He grimaced. “It was an impulse on my part. I have no idea where it came from. I should not have presumed. And, well, I do apologize.”
“For asking to kiss me?” she said slowly.
“Yes.”
“And not for your condescending and insulting proposal?”
He stared. “My what?”
“Your offer to drop this challenge of your uncle’s in return for my declaration that my stories are fictitious.” She narrowed her eyes. “That’s what I assumed you were apologizing for.”
“Don’t be absurd. That was an excellent idea and I think it foolish of you to disregard it.”
“Then we have nothing further to talk about.” She turned her attention to the harbor, the ship now approaching the dock. For this moment at least, she was entirely too annoyed with the man by her side to need to hide her excitement. Apparently, an annoying arrogant beast of a man did blunt one’s enthusiasm. Even for a country one had always yearned to see.
For a lengthy moment he said nothing and then sighed in a long-suffering manner. “Do you wish for me to arrange our transport to the railway station for the trip to Cairo?”
“Because I have never done it before?” she said sharply.
“No.” His jaw tightened. “Because it’s the sort of thing a gentleman does. It will be much more efficient if one of us handles this rather than everyone going in different directions at once.”
“And leaves us free to enjoy our first moments in Egypt.” Gwen stepped in front of her. “My, that is efficient, Mr. Armstrong, and what a generous offer.” She thrust a packet at him. “Here are our landing papers and railway tickets.”
“And you’ll see to the luggage as w
ell?” Sidney asked. Her trunk and her wardrobe were new and she preferred not to have her luggage misplaced. She’d also brought her writing materials, the story she was currently working on and her grandmother’s final journal as both a talisman and a comfort.
“Yes, of course.” Harry looked as if he wished to say something else but thought better of it.
“And don’t forget to include Mr. Corbin in the arrangements. He is a member of our party after all,” Effie said firmly. Sidney was not the only one who had noticed Harry’s aversion to the reporter.
“I would never forget Corbin.” A cool note sounded in Harry’s voice. “Although it would be helpful if he made an appearance.”
“Right behind you, Armstrong.” Daniel’s cordial tone rang over the crowd. “Good day, ladies. Sorry for the delay. I was querying some of the other passengers as to their plans. Background information you know. More details for my stories.”
“It appears nearly everyone on board is a tourist.” A faint note of derision sounded in Harry’s voice.
“As is Mrs. Higginbotham, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and myself.” Gwen slanted Harry a chastising glance.
“Indeed.” Harry had the decency to look a bit chagrined.
“Mr. Armstrong has kindly offered to see to all the docking and transportation arrangements.” Poppy beamed. “Wasn’t that gracious of him?”
“Gracious and appreciated.” Daniel grinned. “Never having been to Egypt before I’ve no doubt I would be completely lost. Even better, that allows me to escort the four loveliest passengers on board off the ship.” He held out his arm. “Mrs. Gordon, would you do me the honor?”
Sidney glanced at Harry. While his expression was pleasant enough, his eyes were icy and his jaw tight. Good. “I would be delighted.”
As much as she had no desire to cling to Daniel’s arm, a few moments later she did just that. After a cursory official inspection, hordes of porters swarmed onto the ship in their voluminous trousers and turbans or red fez hats with black tassels, chattering in assorted languages and gesturing in an alarming manner, apparently in an attempt to earn employment. Harry handled them with an ease and competence she should have anticipated but came as a pleasant surprise nonetheless.
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