Lady Travelers Guide to Deception with an Unlikely Earl

by Victoria Alexander

  She drew a deep breath and continued forward, jostled constantly by the flowing crowed. She peered into one stall after another, ignoring the temptations of foreign and fascinating goods as well as the appeals of the merchants—frequently in broken English—offering madam an excellent bargain.

  If anything happened to them—her heart clenched at the thought—she would never forgive herself. This was her fault. Those sweet old friends were only here because of her. She should have followed her instincts right at the beginning. In spite of what Mr. Cadwallender said she should have insisted on clearing up the public misunderstanding about her work being fictional. She should have faced the consequences then, regardless of how devastating they might have been. If she had, Harry’s uncle wouldn’t have challenged her. They wouldn’t be in Egypt. And Effie, Gwen and Poppy would be safe at home, where they belonged.

  She darted down one street and then another. Past stalls of ornate slippers of velvets and silks, brightly colored with curved toes and beading and tassels. She turned into a street of carpet sellers, with rugs and carpets rolled or hanging, the designs intricate and glorious. She rushed through streets of tobacco and cigar merchants, others with coffees and sweetmeats and finally realized she was retracing her steps. And there was every possibility she was just as lost as her friends.

  Sidney had no idea how much time had passed. Surely no more than an hour or two. Time had lost all meaning. Her world was an endless blur of stalls and uncommon merchandise and captivating people, of bright colors and foreign languages, of odd and enticing smells. This was not getting her anywhere. She’d been roaming the endless streets of the souk for what seemed like all eternity. She had no idea where she was. What she needed was a plan. Perhaps she should return to the hotel, if she could make her way out of the markets. If she could find the Muski, the main street that ran through the markets, she would be able to get her bearings and then find the hotel. Surely someone there could help her.

  “Where have you been?” Harry’s outraged voice behind her jerked her attention.

  She whirled to face him, her relief at seeing him again dashed away by the tone in his voice and the look on his face. “Where have I been? Where have you been?”

  “For the last two and a half hours I’ve been trying to find you.” His jaw clenched. “I thought you understood you were to wait for me.”

  “I did. They—” she gestured wildly “—did not.”

  “They?” He looked around. “The old ladies?”

  “Yes!”

  “They’re not with you?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know!”

  Harry stared. “You lost them?”

  “I don’t know if I lost them or they lost me. I was turned around, confused if you will. This is a most confusing place.” This could very well be blamed on Harry. If he hadn’t taken so long dealing with the donkey boys, they might all still be together now. A voice in the back of her head noted she wasn’t being entirely fair. She didn’t care. “The point is that they, we, are lost.”

  “How could you let this happen?”

  “How could I let this happen?” She glared at him. Any thoughts about his newfound agreeable nature vanished in a wave of anger. “How could you?”

  “I told you—”

  “What was I supposed to do? They are grown women. It’s not as if I could put a little bell around their necks like a donkey!”

  “You could have tried!”

  “I tried to keep my eye on them but they were too—”

  “Fast?” His brow shot upward. “They’re old ladies!”

  “They’re spry. And determined.” For the first time she noticed the crowd had thinned as those passing by skirted around them, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the squabbling foreigners. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And there’s no need to yell.”

  “There’s every need to yell!” He drew a deep breath and it was obvious he was trying to muster some semblance of calm.

  “They are not your responsibility.”

  “Of course they are.” He shook his head in disbelief. “If we return without them, who do you think will be held accountable?”

  “Me!”

  “Hardly.” He scoffed. “You’re the bloody Queen of the Desert! You’re practically beloved. No one will blame you for anything. I’ll be the one at fault. The man is always the one held accountable.”

  “Well, perhaps if the man had been more conscientious—”

  His jaw tightened. “I told you—”

  “Mr. Armstrong?” A disembodied hand tapped him on the shoulder. “Mrs. Gordon.” Hamad peered around Harry and smiled. “I am so pleased to have found you.”

  “Hamad!” Sidney held her breath. “Do you know where the other ladies are?”

  “Of course.” The Egyptian’s smile widened. “And I have been sent to find you.”

  “Good man, Hamad.” Relief echoing her own sounded in Harry’s voice. “Are they all right?”

  “They are very good, sir.”

  “Thank God,” Sidney murmured. “How long have you been looking for me? For us?”

  “Only a very few minutes, madam.”

  “He knows his way around the markets,” Harry said pointedly.

  She clenched her teeth. “Things change over the years!”

  “Not in Egypt!”

  Hamad cleared his throat. “If you would be so good as to follow me. The ladies are waiting.”

  “Excellent.” She raised her chin and started after Hamad, Harry a step behind.

  The man was a beast, that’s what he was. How had she ever thought, even for a moment, that he was anything like Richard Weatherly. Certainly they bore a certain physical similarity, nothing more than coincidence really, but Richard was a figment of her imagination. Harry was entirely too real. Richard was heroic and daring and dashing. Harry had misplaced a group of helpless women in a market and now acted as if she was somehow to blame. Once again, that annoying voice in her head murmured this wasn’t entirely his fault. Once again, she ignored it.

  They walked no more than ten minutes before reaching a coffee merchant’s stall. Hamad nodded to the man sitting serenely on the counter and led the way to the back of the stall, pulling aside a heavy curtain and allowing Sidney to precede him. The interior was dim and heavily shadowed. Sidney had the impression of lush fabrics hanging on the walls. The scents of cardamom and coriander and cinnamon wafted through the air.

  “Oh good, Hamad found you,” Poppy said brightly. She and the others were seated on cushions on the floor around a low brass-topped table accompanied by an Egyptian in European dress. “You’re just in time for tea.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “TEA?” SIDNEY SAID in a strangled voice.

  Obviously the ladies were fine and apparently enjoying themselves. The same could not be said for Sidney.

  “Tea?” she said again.

  “Be a dear, Harry, and help Sidney to a seat.” Mrs. Higginbotham looked around the confined space. “Although seat isn’t entirely accurate is it?”

  “Pillow, then,” Lady Blodgett said. “Or cushion if you prefer. Regardless, she will need assistance.”

  “We certainly did. Egyptian seating is not designed for appropriate English clothing.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore beamed at the gentleman beside them. “But Mr. Nazzal was of great help.”

  Mustafa Nazzal rose effortlessly to his feet. “Mr. Armstrong.” He nodded a bow. “It’s a small world, is it not?”

  “And growing smaller every day.” Harry shouldn’t be at all surprised to see the Egyptian although he never expected to find him in the company of Sidney’s elderly friends.

  Sidney leaned close, her gaze fixed on Nazzal, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know him?�
��

  “I do.”

  “And he’s...”

  “An accomplished gentleman of many and varied pursuits,” Harry said, managing to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

  “Oh?” Sidney stared.

  “I do try,” Nazzal said in a modest manner.

  Sidney eyed him suspiciously. “Then there is nothing to be concerned about?”

  “Not at all,” Harry lied. There was always something to be concerned about when Mustafa Nazzal appeared. Nazzal was a minor Egyptian official—although his precise position had always been somewhat vague—with connections to the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities and his finger in anything that might be profitable, regardless of whether it was unsavory or completely aboveboard. Nazzal was fiercely loyal to his country and was the kind of man who knew everything about everything and everyone. The kind of man one didn’t want as an enemy. His services and assistance were often invaluable.

  “And you must be the incomparable Mrs. Gordon,” Nazzal said in a charming manner obviously designed to melt even the wariest heart.

  Sidney smiled cautiously. “I’m not sure about incomparable...”

  “Allow me to present Mrs. Gordon,” Harry said. “Sidney, this is Mr. Mustafa Nazzal.”

  “An old friend of Mr. Armstrong’s,” Nazzal said smoothly. He took Sidney’s hand and raised it to his lips. “I am enchanted to meet a woman of such accomplishment.”

  Sidney stared. “Thank you.”

  “We’ve been telling him all about you.” Pride rang in Gwen’s voice. “About your books and your adventures.”

  “My apologies, Mrs. Gordon.” Nazzal gazed into her eyes. “I do not recall having heard your name before. But surely it has just slipped my mind?”

  “Happens to the best of us, old man,” Harry said quickly. Excellent. Now he had to guard against Nazzal uncovering the truth about Sidney as well as Corbin. A question flashed through his mind. When had his purpose changed from exposing Sidney to protecting her? He ignored it. Besides, running into the Egyptian was nothing more than a momentary distraction. They probably wouldn’t see him again during their stay. “Tell me, how did you come to meet my friends?”

  “Ah yes.” Nazzal chuckled. “They were concerned that they had somehow misplaced Mrs. Gordon and you as well. Hamad thought it more expeditious to search for the two of you without the ladies so he brought them here. Hamad is a cousin of my uncle’s wife and this is my uncle’s shop. I happened to stop by on a matter of business.”

  “Mr. Nazzal knew my husband,” Mrs. Higginbotham said brightly. “What a remarkable coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “Remarkable.” Harry met the other man’s gaze.

  “Even before our more formal arrangement with Britain, there has long been a sizable presence of British officers in Egypt. I daresay, Colonel Higginbotham isn’t the only mutual acquaintance between us.” Nazzal turned back to the older lady. “I’m not sure our chance meeting was as remarkable as it was delightful.”

  “Goodness, Mr. Nazzal.” Mrs. Higginbotham uttered something that might well have been a giggle.

  Harry stared.

  Sidney nudged him with her elbow. “Stop that.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured.

  “Mr. Nazzal,” Sidney said pleasantly. “You have my undying gratitude for extending your hospitality to my friends and, as much as I would like to join you, I’m afraid it is growing late and we must be going.”

  “To my eternal regret,” Nazzal said.

  Good. The sooner they were out of here the better. If Sidney had indeed spent any time at all in Egypt, Nazzal would know. Fortunately, Corbin wasn’t with them at the moment and Harry had no doubt the older ladies were complicit in Sidney’s deception.

  “But perhaps you would join us for dinner tonight,” Sidney continued. “At Shepheard’s Hotel.”

  “That would be lovely, Mr. Nazzal.” An eager note sounded in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice, the other ladies chiming in. It appeared they were all taken with the charismatic Egyptian.

  “I’m afraid I have other plans tonight,” Nazzal said with a reluctant shake of his head.

  Harry released a breath he didn’t know he’d held.

  “However, I believe there is dancing at the hotel tomorrow night,” Nazzal continued. “Perhaps I could join you then.”

  “Wonderful, Mr. Nazzal.” Lady Blodgett smiled a distinctly flirtatious sort of smile. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had the pleasure of a dance and I quite look forward to it.”

  Nazzal cast Sidney an amused glance, as if they now shared some sort of private joke or connection about the older ladies’ obvious liking of him. A connection he would use to his advantage if necessary. Harry knew exactly what the man was thinking and he didn’t find it at all amusing.

  “If we’re agreed, then.” Sidney glanced around the circle of older ladies. “We should be on our way.”

  “I suppose.” Mrs. Higginbotham sighed. “But we are going to need a bit of assistance.” Her gaze shifted between Nazzal and Harry, and then she extended a hand to Harry. He had the oddest sense of triumph. “If you would help me to my feet.”

  “Yes, of course.” Harry stepped closer and took the lady’s hand, carefully helping her stand. Sidney, Hamad and Nazzal assisted the other ladies.

  “Goodness, Harry,” Mrs. Higginbotham said under her breath. “You needn’t treat me like a piece of fragile porcelain. I am much studier than I look.”

  He grinned. “I assure you, Mrs. Higginbotham, I never suspected otherwise.”

  “Humph.” Her lips pressed together in a skeptical line. “I don’t believe you for a moment. Oh, and after due consideration, I have an offer for you. I shall refrain from referring to you as ‘the buffoon’ if you cease to refer to me as ‘the dragon.’”

  “Oh, I never—”

  “It’s pointless to protest, Harry. You know it and I know it. And while I do like the idea of thinking of myself as a dragon—majestic beasts don’t you think?”

  “Um.” He had no idea how to respond.

  “Excellent answer, Harry.” Mrs. Higginbotham rolled her eyes toward the low ceiling. “I would much prefer other people not refer to me that way. You understand.”

  He nodded.

  “You are proving to be more acceptable than expected.” Mrs. Higginbotham nodded approvingly. “Believe me, no one is more surprised than I.”

  The group said their goodbyes and Hamad arranged for a few boys to carry their considerable number of packages. The guide then easily led them out of the bazaar to the Muski where Hamad arranged for two cabs—one for Harry and the ladies, the other for Hamad and their parcels, all of varying sizes, some quite large. What in the hell had they bought? Harry had no idea how poor Hamad had managed to carry it all. The ladies settled on one side of the carriage, Sidney sat beside him.

  Once they were headed back to the hotel, Harry leaned forward on his seat and addressed the elderly women in his best no-nonsense tone. “Ladies, wandering off on your own here is ill-advised. I would request that you refrain from doing so. Furthermore, should we be separated again, we need a plan as to where we are to meet. I cannot impress upon you strongly enough what sorts of things could have happened to you. The markets of Cairo are not akin to Bond Street or Harrods. Mrs. Gordon was extremely worried.”

  “There was no need.” Lady Blodgett smiled at the younger woman. “We were with Hamad after all.”

  “And what of Mrs. Gordon?” Harry nodded toward Sidney. “She was alone.”

  Mrs. Higginbotham frowned. “We thought she was with you.”

  “Mr. Armstrong and I were separated as well,” Sidney said.

  “I want your word that if we misplace one another again you will return immediately to the hotel,” he said sternly.

  “You needn’t be so adamant about it, Harry.”
Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore sniffed.

  “We’re not children and we prefer not to be treated as such,” Lady Blodgett added.

  “He’s right though,” Mrs. Higginbotham said in a resigned manner. “We do need to stay together and we certainly should agree on procedures should we be separated again. Not that we intend to be, but one never knows what might happen while one is traveling.” She glanced at the others. “Don’t we have a Lady Travelers pamphlet on what to do when one is lost in a foreign land?”

  “I’m not sure.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s brow furrowed. “But I do believe we have recommended finding the British consulate in such circumstances.”

  “Perhaps we should write a pamphlet about being lost in something like the markets of Cairo.” Lady Blodgett cast Harry an approving smile. “Excellent idea, Harry. We shall do so the moment we return to London. Do you have any other good advice?”

  All three ladies stared expectantly.

  “Not at the moment.” There was apparently nothing like old ladies looking at you as if you had some sort of rare wisdom to impart to take the wind out of your sails. Especially if you didn’t. He struggled to keep a firm note in his voice. “But should something come to mind I will be sure to mention it.”

  “See that you do, Harry.” Mrs. Higginbotham nodded and waved him away, apparently the discussion was at an end. He settled back in his seat and she turned her attention to her friends. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am with my purchases. I never imagined I would find such remarkable goods.”

  “Oh my yes.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement Harry had only ever seen in a man’s eyes when he had unearthed a rare treasure or done something of great accomplishment. “Why the colors of the...”

  Harry inclined his head toward Sidney and spoke quietly. “Why did you invite Nazzal to join us tomorrow?

  “He did us a great favor, Mr. Armstrong,” she said coolly. “I thought the very least we could do was invite him to dinner. I regret he couldn’t join us tonight.”