“You mentioned his friends. Are they still in Egypt?”
“Mr. Deane returned to London at the same time as Mr. Armstrong.” Mr. Nazzal hesitated. “Mr. Pickering was not so lucky.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was struck by a fever when he and Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Deane were in the Western Desert two years ago. Unfortunately he perished.”
“Oh dear,” Sidney murmured. Harry had said it had been a year since he was last in Egypt. Did Harry leave because of his friend’s death?
“Is there anything else you wish to know?” Amusement curved the Egyptian’s lips.
“Yes.” She braced herself. “It sounds to me as if Mr. Armstrong was rather disreputable in his younger days.”
He chuckled. “No more or less than most men of my acquaintance.”
“What a clever answer, Mr. Nazzal,” she said lightly. “And no answer at all.”
He smiled in a knowing manner.
“Answer me this, then.” Sidney met his gaze directly. “Is he an honest and honorable man?”
“Honesty, my dear Mrs. Gordon—” he led her through a quick turn. “—is as much in the eye of the beholder as is beauty. If one does something that is not by definition honest but does it for a greater good, is he then dishonest? Or is he indeed honorable?”
“An interesting question, Mr. Nazzal.” She thought for a moment. The man just nicely cleared away any minor doubts she might have had about her plans for tonight. “I believe I agree with you.”
“Excellent.” He grinned. The music drew to a close and they slowed to a stop. “I don’t think you and your friends could be in safer hands than Mr. Armstrong’s. If necessary, I would trust him with my very life.”
“Thank you, Mr. Nazzal. What a sterling recommendation.” She smiled. “I shall keep it in mind.”
“And while I regret losing the opportunity to claim another dance later in the evening, I’m afraid I must take my leave.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers.
“I believe this is our dance, Mrs. Gordon.” Harry stepped up behind Mr. Nazzal. He cast the other man a pointed look. “You can let her go now.”
“To my eternal regret.” Mr. Nazzal reluctantly released her hand. “My apologies, Mr. Armstrong. I am putty in the hands of a woman as lovely as she is clever.”
“Why, Mr. Nazzal, you do say the nicest things.” Sidney favored him with her brightest smile.
The Egyptian grinned. “I do hope to see you and the rest of your party again before you leave Egypt.” He turned to Harry. “I have a matter of some importance to attend to. If I might speak to you alone for a moment. With your permission, Mrs. Gordon?”
“Please go on.” She waved him off and pretended to gaze absently around the ballroom, as any insipid, dutiful creature would. Really, men were absurd.
Mr. Nazzal leaned close to Harry and spoke low into his ear. Harry nodded. Mr. Nazzal turned back to her. “My apologies, but I must be off.”
“If you must,” Harry said cordially.
“Perhaps I shall see you tomorrow, Mr. Armstrong.”
Harry chuckled. “I have no doubt of it, Mr. Nazzal.”
Mr. Nazzal nodded and took his leave. The music began and Sidney stepped into Harry’s arms.
“Secrets, Harry?”
“This is a land of secrets, Sidney, ancient and new.”
“What a cunning yet completely useless answer.” And the second one she’d received tonight. Still, she hadn’t expected anything more.
“Have you forgiven me yet?”
“Do you deserve forgiveness?” she said in an offhand manner.
“Absolutely not.”
She laughed. “There is something quite agreeable about a man who admits when he’s wrong.”
“I wasn’t—” he began, then grimaced. “My apologies, then.”
“Accepted.” It wouldn’t serve either of them for her to continue to be annoyed with him. The man had decided not to kiss her for a perfectly logical reason and that was that. Still, one would think logic would be discarded when it came to a kiss.
“I’ve been waiting all night to dance with you,” he said in a disgruntled manner.
“Nonsense. The evening is still young.” She smiled up at him. “And you did not appear to be lacking in partners.”
Harry had quite properly danced with Effie, Gwen and Poppy, who were obviously having a wonderful evening. It had been some time since any of them had shared a dance with a handsome, dashing partner.
“Your friend is quite charming,” she said lightly.
“Nazzal considers it an art. Charm, Sidney,” he added in a scolding manner, “is not always as it seems.”
“Why, Harry.” Delight widened her eyes. “Are you jealous?”
“Yes.”
She grinned. “Good.”
“You look...radiant tonight, Sidney.” Harry stared down at her as if seeing her for the first time, his voice low, almost a caress. Her heart thudded in her chest.
“Goodness, Harry, you’ll quite turn my head with such compliments.” A heretofore unknown breathless note sounded in her voice. No doubt to go along with her rapidly beating heart.
“You seem to be having a fine time.” He gazed into her eyes.
“Aren’t you?” There was that breathlessness again.
“I am now.” He pulled her the tiniest bit closer, admiration or something perhaps even better shone in his eyes. The oddest frisson of anticipation skated up her spine. Why, with very little effort, he could lean in and brush his lips across hers. Right here on the dance floor. Terribly improper and dreadfully scandalous but really quite perfect. Would he?
It was shocking to realize how much she wanted Harry to kiss her here and now but more—she wanted him to see her as something other than a cordial opponent. She’d almost entirely dismissed the idea that he hoped to seduce the truth out of her. He really didn’t strike her as that sort of man. Which meant his flirtation and everything that went along with it was sincere. It was entirely possible the man truly had feelings her.
Not that any affection he might have for her or she might have for him made any difference, of course. If she disproved his charges she would spend the rest of her life living a lie. If he proved his point, she’d be ruined. How could she ever forgive him for that? Still, there was the vaguest idea in the back of her mind about a way to escape the mire she found herself in and perhaps, possibly, a way to an unforeseen future.
“I must confess, I have been waiting to dance with you as well.”
“Have you?” He grinned down at her. “Excellent.”
“We have a great deal to discuss,” she said in an overly prim manner, trying to ignore how truly wonderful—how very perfect—it felt to be in his arms. Pity it would not last.
“Do we?” Amusement sounded in his voice. “And what do we need to discuss?”
“I think you should do it.” She held her breath.
“Do what?”
“Help Mr. Nazzal retrieve the artifact from the American.”
“What?” He stumbled on the next step. “What did you say?”
“Come now, Harry, you heard what I said.”
“Bloody hell.” He quickly steered her to the open doors and out on to the terrace, fairly dragging her past a handful of other people enjoying the refreshing night air, to the shadows at the far end overlooking the gardens. “What did Nazzal say to you?”
“Nothing.” She shook free of his grasp. “Well, nothing of any real significance. He certainly didn’t mention what he had asked of you.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he looked as dangerous as he was handsome. She shivered with, well, excitement. “Explain yourself, Sidney. How do you know about this?”
“Oh, you know how these things are.”
“Very well.” This was exactly the reaction she’d expected, the man really was endearingly predictable. “When I came down to meet the ladies for tea, I stopped at the front desk. I was curious as to whether I had any mail from Mr. Cadwallender. I didn’t by the way.”
“Go on.”
“But the desk clerk said he had a note for you and I said—as we did intend to meet for tea—that I would be happy to deliver it.” She shrugged. “Naturally, I read it.”
“Naturally.”
“You needn’t take that tone. It was simply a folded piece of paper and opened without any effort on my part. I assure you it was quite inadvertent. You really should tell Mr. Nazzal if he wishes communication to be private, he should use an envelope.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “I shall keep that in mind.”
“See that you do.” She nodded. “I thought it might be important and I know you had warned me not to trust him although really, Harry, I find him quite agreeable.”
Harry opened his mouth but it did seem best to continue as she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he was going to say.
“So I paid a server to linger about your table and attempt to overhear your conversation.”
“You did what?” His voice rose.
“Do be quiet, Harry. I don’t think you want anyone to hear us.”
“Anyone else you mean,” he said but lowered his voice nonetheless.
“Again, you did warn me not to trust him. And I thought perhaps he was up to something nefarious and you might possibly be in some sort of trouble.” She squared her shoulders. “So, I thought it best to find out what Mr. Nazzal wanted should you disappear into the night and were in need of rescue.”
“From you?”
She ignored the skeptical note in his voice. “At any rate, the server really wasn’t very good. His English was questionable, he didn’t hear everything and he failed to get the American’s name. However.” She grinned in triumph. “I did.”
He stared. “What? How?”
“Well, while there are a number of Americans staying here, most are traveling in groups. Only one fit what we thought a wealthy collector would look like.”
“We?” Harry barely choked out the word.
“Yes, we.” She cast him a pitying look. “Goodness, Harry, I couldn’t possibly sort all this out by myself. I am not nearly that devious. Anyway, we made a few casual inquiries and discovered his name.” She grabbed his hand and led him close to the nearest door. “He’s sitting at the third table from the wall on the right side of the ballroom. His name is Mr. Edgar Wallace.”
Poor Harry looked rather stunned but he obediently peered around the doorway then jerked back as if scalded. “He’s not alone!”
“Exactly according to plan.”
“The old ladies are with him!”
Sidney frowned. “They prefer not to be called old ladies. They’re somewhat sensitive about their age.”
“But—”
“Yes, I know they’re with Mr. Wallace. We made his acquaintance on the terrace at tea.” She shook her head in a chastising manner. “You really should have come to tea, Harry.”
“Apparently.”
“They’ll keep him occupied while we slip into his room—”
“We?” His eyes widened in horror. “All of you?”
“Don’t be absurd. I just said the ladies would keep Mr. Wallace occupied. You do need to pay attention if this is going to work.”
“My apologies,” he snapped. “I’m not used to having plans of this nature dictated to me by a group of old ladies.”
“Not necessary but appreciated.” She waved off his apology. “Understandable really. I can see how you might be somewhat unnerved by all this.”
“Do you think so?”
“Sarcasm, Harry, is not appropriate at the moment. Now, as I was saying, the ladies will keep an eye on Mr. Wallace, and you and I—”
“Absolutely not.” He shook his head. Apparently, the shock of the brilliant plan they had devised had worn off. “You are not going with me.”
“Oh, but I am. This is exactly the sort of thing Mill—that I would have done in my days in Egypt. After all, an important remnant of ancient Egypt is at stake. And my life has been rather dull in recent years. Frankly, I’m running out of adventures to write about.”
“This is not an adventure!”
“Don’t be silly. Of course it is.” She paused. “Do you want to hear the rest of the plan?”
“By all means, continue.”
“There’s really little more to it. We slip into Mr. Wallace’s room—his room is just a few doors down from mine, which I thought most convenient. Oh, and I have a passkey.” She reached into her bodice then hesitated. Harry’s gaze fixed firmly on her hand. “Perhaps you should turn around.”
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat and turned. “How did you get a passkey?”
“There’s a closet on each floor with cleaning equipment, fresh linens, that sort of thing. Poppy borrowed the key from the closet.” Sidney pulled the key from the top of her corset. Poppy had advised her it was the perfect place to hide small objects should it be necessary to do so. “I find it amazing that a hotel of this quality doesn’t have better security, although in fairness the closet door was locked.”
Harry groaned. “Do I want to know how Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore opened the door?”
“Probably not.” Sidney paused. “Although she didn’t open the door, Effie did. It’s remarkable the skills one picks up over a lifetime. And with nothing more than a hairpin and a buttonhook. Oh, you may turn around now.”
He turned and pinned her with a hard look. “I don’t want you further involved in this.”
“How very gallant of you, Harry, but I am already involved.”
“There is no way in hell I’m going to allow you to accompany me.”
“Really, Harry, your language.” She crossed her arms over her chest and again his gaze flicked to her décolletage. It was remarkably satisfying. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you go without me.”
“This is not open for debate.”
“No, it’s not.” She smiled pleasantly. “First of all, I still have the key in my hand and if you attempt to force it from me, which would be most ungentlemanly, I shall scream as loud as possible, which would draw unwanted attention. Second, I know which room is Mr. Wallace’s and you do not.”
He shrugged. “I daresay I can discover that in a matter of minutes.”
“Without question. However, getting into that room, with me standing outside my door and, I don’t know, singing perhaps might rouse people from their beds to check on the noise.” She grimaced. “You should be aware that my singing is not especially musical. I’m afraid I can’t carry a tune.”
His jaw tightened and he studied her for a long moment. It was all she could do to hold her ground and not give in to the temptation to thrust the key at him and flee. But this was indeed an adventure in the service of a noble cause. Millicent Forester wouldn’t back down. Nor would Sidney Honeywell.
“You have given me no choice.”
“Yes, I know.” She grinned. “Rather brilliant of me, don’t you think?”
“No,” he snapped then heaved a sigh of surrender. “Perhaps.”
“I knew you’d see it my way,” she said with a satisfied nod. “We should get to it, then. I suspect our time is limited.”
“There is more than a touch of larceny in you isn’t there, Mrs. Gordon?” He shook his head. “Apparently, we have more in common than I thought.”
Mrs. Gordon? He must be annoyed. She bit back a grin. No need to rub salt in the wound. “I simply think if one can recover a piece of history, to save it for the future, one should do so.”
“You do realize we are skirting
on the edge of illegality?”
“Come now, Harry. I think we’re well beyond skirting. And isn’t that part of the fun?”
“Fun?” He nearly choked on the word.
“Retrieving something that has already been stolen, to return it to where it rightfully belongs, strikes me as nothing less than morally right.”
“You’ve never been in an Egyptian jail, have you Mrs. Gordon?
“Of course not.” She paused. “Well, not yet.”
He started to respond then apparently thought better of it.
“Shall we?” She smiled pleasantly.
He studied her for a moment longer then sighed. “After you.”
They slipped back into the ballroom and casually made their way around the room. Sidney’s gaze met Gwen’s and the older woman gave her a slight nod. They had learned, when they’d met Mr. Wallace at tea, that he was fascinated by stories of exploration in Egypt and other lands. Between Effie, Poppy and Gwen, they had more than enough stories of their husbands’ exploits to regale the American for hours. And he did appear to be completely engrossed in their tales. It struck Sidney that the ladies were engaged in a version of The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, even if Scheherazade was considerably younger than the three lady travelers and Mr. Wallace not at all a handsome king. Still, the stakes, while not as dire as Scheherazade’s, were significant.
They took the lift to the first floor and started toward her room, until the lift and its efficient operator had descended from sight. Her heart thudded with excitement although she did wish Harry hadn’t mentioned Egyptian jails.
“This is his room.” Sidney stopped in front of a suite three doors down from her own. She handed Harry the key.
He frowned. “Are you certain about this? There’s no need for you to go in. You can stay in the hall and warn me if anyone comes.”
“What kind of an adventure would that be?” she said with far more confidence than she felt. It was extremely thoughtful of him to consider that she might be having second thoughts. Regardless, what kind of heroine allowed the hero to venture into the unknown by himself? “Go on, open the door.”
Lady Travelers Guide to Deception with an Unlikely Earl Page 17