Sidney shook her head. “Did you see the look on the manager’s face? I’ve written that look. It does not say welcome but rather ‘oh no, not you.’”
Gwen frowned. “Do you think Mr. Armstrong is in some kind of trouble?”
“I suspect Mr. Armstrong is trouble,” Poppy said thoughtfully. “And not simply because he’s trying to prove his uncle’s charges about Sidney. Every now and then, on board ship, there was a hint, a vague suggestion...”
“Regardless, I daresay Mr. Armstrong can take care of himself.” Effie met Sidney’s gaze. “I suggest we ask Daniel what he knows—or can discover—about Mr. Armstrong’s background.”
“Yes, but do be discreet.” Sidney hesitated but her friends should be aware of her concerns. “I realize he works for Mr. Cadwallender and one could say we are therefore on the same side but I’m not sure I completely trust him.”
“Thank goodness.” Poppy sighed with relief. “We don’t trust him either. He’s entirely too—”
“Charming,” Gwen said.
“Amusing,” Effie added. “As if he’s trying too hard.”
“I could also casually, mind you, see what I might be able to find out from Mr. Chalmers.” Gwen smiled in a distinctly wicked manner. “He was quite helpful earlier and if indeed he is not Mr. Armstrong’s friend, might be more than willing to divulge all sorts of interesting secrets. As for Mr. Armstrong—”
“I will handle Mr. Armstrong myself,” Sidney said firmly. The man was hiding something. She didn’t doubt it for a moment. Her deception was inadvertent—she hadn’t intended for any of this to happen. His, however, was deliberate.
Who exactly was Harry Armstrong and what was he hiding?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“HARRY.” CHALMERS SAT behind a solid desk in an office somewhat more ornate than one would have expected from a hotel manager, his eyes narrowed in an intimidating manner.
“Leo.” Harry settled in the chair in front of the desk—a hard-backed, uncomfortable seat no doubt calculated to create the most unease in anyone who had to sit in it and face the displeasure of the manager of Shepheard’s Hotel.
“Actually, I prefer Leonard now.”
“A new name to go along with the refined accent?”
“You noticed that, did you?”
“It’s hard to miss.” Harry snorted. “You sound more properly British than the queen.”
“Thank you. I’ve been working on it. One must keep up appearances when one is the manager of the finest hotel in Egypt.”
“You’ve come up in the world, Leonard.” Harry studied him curiously. “And rather quickly I’d say. When I left you were nothing more than a night desk clerk dealing in phony antiquities and anything else anyone might want.”
“A thing of the past, old man.” Leo waved off the comment. “I have discovered the benefits of a reputable life. I am a reformed man.”
“And you’re now the manager?”
“I can hear the skepticism in your voice, Harry, but advancements come rapidly when one is clever and determined and makes oneself indispensable.” Leo smiled in an overly satisfied manner. “The previous manager knew potential when he saw it and when he retired, he recommended me for his position.”
“Retired?” Harry raised a brow.
“No need to look at me like that.” Leo huffed. “Nothing untoward happened to him. I quite liked him, by the way. The man simply retired to a small village near Bristol. I heard he became reacquainted with a childhood sweetheart and is now exceptionally happy. It has all worked out nicely for him.”
“And for you as well.”
Leo grinned. “Definitely for me.”
“And this is all...” Harry searched for the right word. “Legitimate?”
“I know you find it hard to believe.” Leo chuckled. “I find it hard to believe myself but I quite like running an establishment like this. It’s, oh, challenging.”
“And lucrative.”
Leo grinned. “Extremely.”
“I can imagine.”
“It appears you’ve come up in the world as well.” Leo nodded toward the door. “You’re traveling in interesting company. Old ladies and famous authors and even a reporter. What are you up to, Harry?”
“Not that it’s any of your concern but nothing that isn’t entirely legitimate. You could call it a wager of sorts.” Harry’s dealings had been more or less legitimate for quite some time but some reputations never truly faded—often as much a benefit as a curse. “I’m here as nothing more than a tourist.”
Leo laughed. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe what you want.” Harry paused. “So you’ve met Mrs. Gordon here before?”
“Mrs. Gordon has long been a valued patron of Shepheard’s.”
“When was she last here?”
“Harry, my boy.” Leo shook his head. “Privacy and discretion are a hotel’s stock in trade. I cannot reveal the comings and goings of my guests, many of whom are willing to be most generous to ensure their secrets remain secret.”
Harry frowned. “Did those old ladies pay you?”
Genuine shock widened the manager’s eyes. “Of course not.” Indignation rang in his voice. “My standards may be low but they are not nonexistent. I would never take money from elderly ladies, especially those who don’t look as if they can afford it.”
There was a time, not so long ago, when Leo Chalmers would do exactly that. Still, Harry could scarcely hold the man’s past against him given his own circumstances.
“I’m not the same man I used to be. I am completely respectable now.” Leo grinned. “For the most part.”
“Congratulations. As much as I have enjoyed catching up—” Harry rose to his feet “—I should like to be seen to my room now.”
“I’m afraid you missed the point.” Leo shook his head regretfully. “This was not a strictly social meeting.”
“Oh?”
“Perhaps you recall a little gathering here on the night before you left Egypt.”
“Vaguely.” Harry sat back down. “In the bar, wasn’t it?”
“It was quite a party.”
From what little he did recall—it was a great deal of fun. “It was at that.”
“Unfortunately, there was a considerable amount of damage as well.”
“Was there?” Upon reflection, perhaps there was although his memory of that night—his and Ben’s last in Egypt—was unsurprisingly indistinct.
Leo opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a document and slid it across the desk toward Harry.
“What is that?” Silly to ask really as he did have a fairly good idea.
“Your bill.”
“You keep it in your desk?” Harry said lightly and picked up the invoice. It was impressive and probably padded more than a little.
“I am an eternal optimist.” Leo leaned back in his chair and considered Harry. “Frankly, I had thought Deane, or should I say Lord Benjamin Deane—”
Harry adopted a noncommittal expression but his stomach twisted. Ben’s family connections had never been a particular secret and had in fact come in handy now and again, but he hadn’t used his courtesy title as a rule. And the last person Ben would have wanted to know that he was the son of a marquess was Leo Chalmers.
“—would reappear in Cairo sooner or later.” Leo studied him curiously. “I wasn’t sure about you.”
“And yet, here I am.” Harry waved the bill at him. “What do you expect me to do about this?”
“I expect you to pay it.”
“Why would I do that?” Harry asked mildly. “The damage was not entirely my doing.” Although, it was not out of the realm of possibility that a significant amount of it was indeed his doing. He had the faintest memory of a chandelier and a large statue... He and Ben were saying
goodbye to Egypt and in many ways to their youth. Walter was gone, Cairo was filling more and more with tourists, Ben’s family was becoming increasingly insistent that he return to England, and Harry had inherited an unexpected title. It was time, past time really, to accept the responsibilities they had long avoided. That night in the bar at Shepheard’s both men said goodbye to the past even if the details of exactly how those farewells were given were decidedly sketchy.
“Besides.” Harry dropped the invoice back on the desk and slid it toward Leo. “The entire hotel was torn down shortly after I left. One could say, I gave you an excellent start on the demolition. Why, you should probably pay me.”
“Excellent point, Harry.” Leo smirked. “But I want that money. And as much as I would hate to bother those sweet old ladies, I would have no such hesitation when it comes to the charming Mrs. Gordon. I suspect, given your eminently proper appearance, she has no idea of your past. I daresay there are stories of your years in Egypt that would not paint you in the best light. It could be quite scandalous for her to be in the company of a man like yourself, regardless of how many elderly ladies she’s surrounded by. I imagine it might hinder whatever your plans are as well.”
“I wonder what she would do?” It was an interesting thought.
“We can find out.”
Bloody hell. The old Harry wouldn’t have cared and would never have allowed himself to be susceptible to Leo’s blackmail. The new Earl of Brenton apparently was neither as daring or as impulsive. It was damnably hard to try to be a new man when the old one was so much more enjoyable. “That won’t be necessary.” He pulled out his letter of credit and accompanying documents from his waistcoat pocket and handed them to Leo.
“And a passport as well, if you please.”
Harry tightened his jaw and handed over the passport.
Leo’s gaze shifted from the documents to the passport and back. He glanced up at Harry. “Apparently, it’s my turn to ask you—is this legitimate?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How in the name of all that’s holy did this happen?”
“Blame the complexities of inheritance.” Harry shrugged. “Believe me, it was as much a surprise to me as it is to you.”
“Isn’t this interesting.” Leo studied him curiously. “If I recall correctly, you’ve never been particularly fond of men with titles. I believe I once heard you say something about men who did nothing to earn their positions being no better than—”
“Yes, yes.” Harry cut him off sharply. “I might have said something like that.”
“Deane agreed with you. Imagine my astonishment, when my efforts to track you down revealed that he was the son of a marquess. The youngest son but a son nonetheless. Pity, I didn’t learn that sooner. It might have been quite useful.”
“Deane didn’t use his title while in Egypt, nor do I.”
“Why not?” Leo asked. “I would.”
“Yet another example of the differences between us.”
Leo laughed. “Good God, Harry. You’re still as noble as ever.”
“Are we done?”
Leo nodded. “I’ll withdraw the appropriate amount and return these to you.” He paused. “My lord.”
“With a receipt, of course.”
“Of course.”
Harry stood. “I assume they’ll be a bill as well for your silence. I prefer no one here know of my title.”
“Not this time.” Leo chuckled. “I rather like the idea of an earl being in my debt.”
“I knew you would.”
Leo skirted around him and opened the door. “Do have a pleasant afternoon, sir. And should you need anything, there is a bell in your room. You merely have to ring for service.”
“You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I have never enjoyed anything more.” He shook his head. “There comes a point in every man’s life where he realizes looking over his shoulder every minute is not as much fun as it once was. I still have my amusements and one can always use extra funds but yes, I am content with my life.”
“I suppose one can’t ask for anything more than that,” Harry said and took his leave, but Leo’s words lingered in his mind. What would it take for Harry Armstrong to be content with his life?
* * *
HARRY SAT WITH a glass of excellent Scottish whisky in the newly built Long Bar, which was considerably nicer than the old bar. Better yet—in this bar too, women were not allowed. Joining the ladies on the terrace could wait and he had a lot to think about.
If he had needed further evidence of the truth about Sidney—and he didn’t—it had been quite neatly supplied to him. If Sidney hadn’t been to Egypt in years, she couldn’t possibly know Leo. Their meeting in the lobby was no doubt orchestrated by one of her friends. Probably Lady Blodgett or possibly the dragon. Neither of whom had the slightest hesitation about invoking the names of their dead husbands to get what they wanted and, from what they’d said, Sir Charles and Colonel Higginbotham as well as Mr. Fitzhew-Wellmore had all spent time in Egypt. It was a rather significant mistake on the part of the ladies.
Still, Leo hadn’t confirmed anything. And Sidney would have a plausible explanation why she had greeted the hotel manager as if she knew him. She was excellent at that sort of prevarication. No, he needed solid, indisputable evidence.
And then what?
Harry really hadn’t considered what would happen once he had his proof. He had a vague idea in the back of his mind, which went no further than pointing an accusing finger at her and saying in his best triumphant tone, “Aha! I knew it all along!” Oh, his book would be published, Walter’s memory would be preserved, Sidney’s membership in the Antiquities Society would be rescinded, she’d be humiliated and her livelihood would be destroyed. None of which brought the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the moment. He was, in fact, somewhat ashamed of himself. He’d let some odd sense of pride and jealousy dictate his actions and had leaped into this debacle without thinking it through. In many ways, he was almost as despicable as the villains from Sidney’s stories. He was better than that. Or at least he used to be. In spite of a past filled with less than completely legitimate exploits, overindulgence in drink and more women than he could remember, he’d always considered himself an honorable sort. He was beginning to think there was little honorable about the challenge he was engaged in now.
If he unmasked Sidney’s deception before they returned to London, Corbin would be thrilled, which was enough of a reason not to do it. He had no desire to assist the reporter’s career. Nor did he have any desire to destroy Sidney’s. Not anymore. And any exposé by Corbin’s revealing Sidney’s lack of experience in Egypt would do exactly that. Interesting how when one became better acquainted with an adversary, one’s perspective changed. Did Harry really want to start his own writing career on the ashes of Sidney’s? Walter would think him an ass. Harry never should have started this. Apparently rejection did strange things to a man. Until he had submitted his writing, he couldn’t remember ever being rejected before. But he’d taken her writing as a personal affront. To all that he and Ben had experienced. To Walter’s memory. Absurd, of course, but a fact nonetheless.
Perhaps the best thing to do was nothing, at least not yet. There was the slimmest possibility that he was wrong about her. He wouldn’t wager on it and there had been rare occasions in his life when he’d been wrong. Why not allow Sidney to continue her efforts to prove her credibility? See just how far this farce would go. As she seemed to know everything there was to know about Egypt she was no doubt delighted to be here in person. Besides—continuing this game with her might be rather fun. Sidney was clever and quick and verbal sparring with her was more enjoyable than anything he’d done in years. In spite of her ruse, she was, well, genuine was the only word he could think of. It made no sense given the circumstances but there it was. Sidney
was a challenge and he’d never backed down from a challenge. This would be the perfect chance to get to know her better and perhaps, the more she knew of him, the better she would like him.
Not that that was important although, now that he thought about it, he did want her to like him. He liked her. Quite a lot really. He couldn’t remember ever having liked a woman before. Oh, he enjoyed women, he appreciated women, he considered women one of the more delightful things in life. But this liking a woman—this was something new. It would be foolish of him not to see where this might lead.
Harry had never been the sort of man to sit back and let events unfold as they may. He wasn’t entirely sure that he could. But then he wasn’t entirely sure about much regarding his life at the moment. He never thought he’d envy Leo Chalmers but perhaps he did. After a life of schemes and illegalities Leo seemed to have found a place for himself. Harry had a place—he was merely unclear as to what it was. His old life didn’t fit him anymore. His new position as earl was not entirely comfortable. He was wagering that writing about his life was where his future truly lay. He just needed something—or someone—to occupy his time and his mind. To give his life purpose.
What if that someone was Sidney Gordon?
It was an intriguing idea. Of all his many adventures, she might well be the most enjoyable. Or the most dangerous. He’d never risked his heart before. He wasn’t sure he was risking it now but there was something elusive and enticing and altogether irresistible here. He suspected if he didn’t play this out—he would regret it. Harry Armstrong was not fond of regrets.
Sidney Gordon could well be the woman he could live with for the rest of his life. It was a sobering thought. He’d never so much as considered one woman for the rest of his life. But life had changed and he was trying to change with it. That too was a sobering thought. One that even fine Scottish whisky couldn’t banish.
CHAPTER NINE
“I THINK IT looks quite...enjoyable.” Poppy squared her shoulders. “And doing something you’ve never done before is the very definition of the adventure to be found in travel.”
Lady Travelers Guide to Deception with an Unlikely Earl Page 11