Lady Travelers Guide to Deception with an Unlikely Earl

by Victoria Alexander

  Poppy nodded. “And one couldn’t help but notice how he looks at you and how you look at him.”

  “How I look at him?” Sidney still wasn’t sure what they were trying to say.

  “Sidney, are you aware of what occurs between a man and a woman?” Gwen said in a casual manner.

  Sidney widened her eyes. “What do you mean—what occurs between a man and a woman?”

  “Intimately,” Poppy said and waved at the bedroom. “You know, in there.” She paused. “Or really all kinds of other places depending on one’s mood and opportunity and adventur—”

  “Poppy, that’s enough,” Gwen said sharply.

  At once Sidney realized what they were talking about and she wasn’t at all sure she wished to hear what they seemed compelled to say. “I do read a lot.”

  “We just want to make sure you’re prepared,” Effie said.

  “Oh, I’m certain I’m prepared.” Indeed, she’d read a few novels that were quite explicit, although she did doubt that every man wished to turn a woman over his knee and spank her. And she was not unaware of the sensations she could experience just by touching herself, as sinful as it was. The idea of a man doing something similar was at once exciting and a bit unnerving.

  “Did your mother discuss this with you?” A hopeful note sounded in Gwen’s voice.

  “No, but—”

  “Let’s see if we can explain it,” Effie began.

  “Oh, please don’t.” Sidney twisted her hands together. Certainly Harry was the first man who’d ever kissed her and admittedly she had never actually been with a man but she did think she had a basic understanding of the process.

  Effie continued. “The man has, oh, for our purposes we’ll call it a sword. And the woman has a...a...”

  “A scabbard?” Poppy suggested.

  “Excellent.” Approval rang in Effie’s voice. “I was going to say a sheath but scabbard is much better.”

  “Is there a difference?” Sidney asked weakly.

  “I have no idea.” Gwen thought for a moment. “Probably not but either will serve for our purposes.”

  Effie nodded. “You should know that it’s not always wonderful the very first time one tries to place the sword in the scabbard—”

  “Or the sheath,” Poppy added.

  “Sometimes the scabbard is rather tight and not at all used to the sword—”

  “Or any sword for that matter,” Gwen said pointedly.

  Effie grimaced. “And it could be awkward.”

  “Perhaps a bit unpleasant,” Poppy said with a wince. “Even possibly painful.”

  “But not always and not for everyone,” Effie said firmly. “After that, it really does become enjoyable.”

  Sidney had no idea how to respond. “Oh?”

  “Quite enjoyable.” Poppy nodded. “Why people would never do it so frequently if it wasn’t.”

  “Really, I don’t think—”

  “A great deal of fun usually.” Gwen smiled knowingly.

  “Ladies!” Sidney snapped, a distinct note of desperation in her voice.

  The older women quieted and waited with expectant expressions.

  “That’s really quite enough.” She drew a deep breath. “I do appreciate the, um, instruction as well as the advice. And now if you don’t mind—it’s been a very long day.”

  “Yes, of course.” Gwen cast her a sympathetic look. “Even the best of adventures take their toll.”

  “We are sorry, dear.” Effie rose to her feet, Gwen and Poppy joining her. “We should have realized you’d be tired. But we didn’t want you to be, well, shocked, if something were to happen.”

  “Mind you, we don’t expect something to happen and we’re by no means encouraging immoral behavior,” Poppy said firmly. “But we are realistic. His feelings for you and yours for him are obvious, at least to us. I’m not sure the two of you have realized it yet.” She paused. “Life is shorter than you ever imagine, Sidney. And sometimes, on occasion—”

  “The unexpected does indeed happen.” Gwen nodded. “You are a delightful woman, past the point when most women marry, on your first adventure of any kind and Harry is roguishly charming although I never would have suspected it when we first met.”

  “Nor would any of us,” Effie said. “But he’s turned out far better than we anticipated. We like him.”

  “And even in the most civilized and ordinary surroundings, that is a potent combination. Now, however, you are in a romantic foreign land, with a handsome dashing man who wants to keep you safe. You really are right in the midst of one of your own stories. And just like in your writing—” Poppy smiled in a decidedly wicked manner “—one never knows what might happen.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  HARRY SWORE IF he were ever to meet a poet who waxed euphoric about the joys of love, he’d thrash him thoroughly. Love, thus far, was not birds singing under blue skies or joyous hearts all atwitter. No. It was annoying and frustrating and, yes, frightening. Especially when one was in love with a woman who absolutely refused to understand that the realities of life were a far cry from stories she made up. Beyond that—he had no idea if she shared his feelings.

  Harry paced the floor in his room and considered his options. That, in itself, was irritating. He’d never been one to pace, at least not before his life had become entangled with Sidney Gordon. He’d always considered himself more a man of action than someone who simply paced. Of course, he’d never found himself in the mess he had to deal with now. How on earth was he supposed to keep Sidney and her friends from harm if they insisted on doing exactly what they wished?

  Sidney had absolutely no sense whatsoever. Nor did her friends. The fact that their little adventures had not ended in disaster was due to nothing more than luck. None of them seemed to realize that. No doubt because they were not visiting Egypt—the real Egypt—with its dangers and secrets and intrigue. No, they were all visiting the fairy-tale land Sidney had created in her ridiculous stories.

  He could continue his efforts to protect Sidney from exposure by Corbin but, as much as he disliked the man, he recognized the reporter was not a complete idiot. If he had been doing his job as an observer instead of trying to charm every female in sight, and had watched Sidney closely, he would have realized by now she had never stepped foot in Egypt. It was only a matter of time until he did. In addition, Corbin was obviously taken with Sidney although not so much that he wouldn’t sacrifice her to get what he wanted. Harry didn’t like that one bit.

  He paused in midstep. There really was only one way to shield Sidney from Corbin, one way to keep Sidney, and the old ladies, safe from themselves. It would mean a change in his plans but it couldn’t be helped. He would find some other way to do what he wanted to do.

  Harry sat down at the desk and pulled a telegraph form from the rack of stationery supplied by the hotel. He hesitated for no more than a minute. No, this was the right thing to do. He selected his words carefully so there could be no mistaking his message. The moment he finished he sat back and blew a long breath. For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, Harry Armstrong had taken matters back into his own hands. Satisfaction washed through him. He reread the telegraph and decided to send it first thing in the morning even though the bellman had said the telegraph office was open all night. Past experience had taught him sending a telegram—anonymously informing the authorities as to a misdeed or announcing a possible new discovery—without thorough consideration did not always work out well.

  He’d read it again tomorrow and then he’d send it. The only way to keep Sidney protected from exposure, as well as keep her and her friends safe from their own misguided escapades, was to get them out of Egypt. With luck, they would be heading back to England no later than the day after tomorrow. Not soon enough but it couldn’t be helped. In the meantime, even though he didn’t think Si
dney’s possession of the medallion put her in any real danger, he was not going to take any chances. Harry grabbed a pillow from his bed, left his room and strode down the corridor to Sidney’s door then knocked sharply. A few moments later, he heard movement on the other side of the door.

  “Who is it?” Sidney asked quietly.

  “It’s me.”

  “Harry?”

  “Yes, were you expecting someone else?”

  “No, but I wasn’t expecting you either.”

  “May I come in?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Do you want to discuss this through the door or will you let me in?”

  “I suppose.” She pulled open the door and he stepped inside.

  Sidney had on the most absurdly proper nightwear, an unseen gown covered by a heavy robe. There was barely an inch of her exposed. She reminded him of a well-wrapped present on Christmas morning. He’d always been fond of Christmas morning. “Why are you here? And why do you have a pillow?”

  “Because I am going to sleep here.” He stepped around her and tossed his pillow on the sofa.

  “You most certainly are not.”

  “I most certainly am.” He sat on the sofa, bounced twice and nodded. “This will do.”

  “If you don’t leave at once, I’ll ring for help.”

  He winced. “That would be awkward.” He stretched out on the sofa, his feet dangling over the end, folded his hands behind his head and grinned. “I’d probably have to sing. And while I can carry a tune I have always been more lauded for my volume than my quality.” He paused. “Of course, you could give me the object and I would gladly leave.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I said I wanted a closer look.”

  “And I said I intended to protect you.”

  She frowned. “Do you really think there’s any kind of danger? Mr. Wallace is gone after all.”

  “I don’t know, which is precisely why I’m here. All we do know is that the object has been stolen at least twice and may well have come from the tomb of a queen.”

  “That’s quite a bit though, don’t you think?”

  He studied her curiously. “Do you?”

  “Perhaps,” she said slowly.

  “It has been entirely too long a day to play games, Sidney.” He’d had no sleep last night and he wasn’t sure tonight would be any better. “Either tell me what you’re thinking or go to bed.”

  “What I’m thinking is that you’re being ridiculous.” She waved her hand at the sofa. “You can’t sleep here.”

  “Oh, but I can.” He closed his eyes.

  “I assure you I don’t need protection. I can take care of myself.”

  “Because you’re the Queen of the Desert?”

  “Well...yes.” She paused. “That sofa is extremely uncomfortable.”

  “I’ve slept on worse.”

  “This is terribly improper.” Irritation rang in her voice. Good. “How do I know your intentions are honorable?”

  “You said you trusted me.”

  “I do. About most things. But this is different.”

  “I assure you, you are quite safe with me.”

  For a long moment she didn’t say anything. “Are you sure you’re safe with me?”

  Harry opened his eyes and grinned.

  “Good Lord, Harry. Apparently arguing with you about this is pointless.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Very well, then.” She turned and went through an arched, curtained opening to the bed beyond. “Sleep well. If you can,” she added and jerked the curtains closed.

  Harry chuckled. There was something truly enjoyable about annoying Sidney. He sat up, pulled off his coat and tie and slipped off his shoes. Then he turned off the lamp and tried to get comfortable. She was right—the sofa was hard, unforgiving and entirely too short. It had been nearly a year since he’d slept in anything other than utter comfort. Odd how quickly one gets used to something.

  The curtains between the sitting area and the bed chamber were shockingly sheer with the light on and Sidney’s figure was perfectly, teasingly, delightfully silhouetted. Harry knew the proper thing—the gentlemanly thing—to do would be not to look. Apparently, he was not that much of a gentleman.

  How convenient that the woman he had fallen head over heels for had such an enticing form. The curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts... Good God. He’d have no sleep again tonight at this rate. He rolled over to face the back of the sofa and willed himself not to think of what was just behind the curtain.

  The springs creaked when she got into bed and he assumed it was safe to turn over. The sofa was not exceptionally wide. Even as tired as he was, sleep evaded him. It didn’t help that Sidney’s bed creaked every time she moved and she moved endlessly. The creaking punctuated with frustrated sighs indicated she was getting no more sleep than he.

  “Are you asleep?” Sidney asked softly.

  He toyed with the idea of pretending to be asleep.

  “Harry?” She was a bit louder now. “Are you asleep?”

  He bit back a smile. “If I was I wouldn’t be now.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Good night, then.”

  “Did you want something?”

  “I can’t sleep.” She shifted on the bed. “I thought perhaps we could talk. Unless, of course, I did wake you up in which case I should probably—”

  “I was awake. I can’t sleep either. You were right about the sofa.”

  “I did warn you.” She paused. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very gracious about your insistence on staying in my room. I do understand that you think it’s a matter of safety and I appreciate your concern.”

  “And?”

  “And I shall try to consider my actions before taking them in the future.”

  “Good.” It wasn’t much of a promise but it was better than nothing. He propped his head up on his elbow and gazed at the archway to her room. Not that he could see anything. “That’s a hard lesson to learn—giving due consideration to anything before leaping into it.”

  “I’ve never really been rash. I’ve always thought too much about anything I’ve ever done.” She sighed. “But, then, I’ve never done much.”

  “What about the adventures you base your lady adventurer stories on?”

  “Oh yes, of course. They were simply so long ago. I haven’t done anything, except study and research, that wasn’t a product of my own mind in longer than I can remember.” Regret sounded in her voice. “Sometimes those adventures feel like they belong to someone else entirely.”

  Was she about to confess? Not that it mattered anymore. Although it was one of those things one couldn’t quite move past. After all, if he was going to have a wife—and apparently he had made that decision—shouldn’t she trust him with her secrets? He had known women who weren’t particularly good in character and Sidney was not one of them. No doubt she had an excellent reason for deceiving the world.

  And shouldn’t he trust her with his secrets as well? Of course he should and really his secrets were so much more insignificant than hers. Yes, he was an earl and, yes, he was the one who had criticized her work and, no, he hadn’t mentioned either of those points. But the latter could be forgiven and he was already taking steps toward that and the former surely wouldn’t be a problem. After all—what woman didn’t want a titled husband?

  “Tell me about your husband.”

  “My husband?” Caution sounded in her voice. “Why?”

  “I was just curious. You never mention him.”

  “I don’t, do I?” She paused. “It sounds dreadful to admit but, to be honest, I can barely remember him. We weren’t together very long. We were just married when we came to Egypt and then he died—drowned,” she added quickly. “In the Nile.”

  “My condolences.”

  “He was not eaten by crocodiles.”
/>   “Well, that’s something at any rate.”

  If Sidney had never been to Egypt, how could her husband have drowned in the Nile? Were some elements of her stories true? One did wonder if she even had a husband. Surely a woman wouldn’t prevaricate about something like that. But one never knew. In his experience, women lied about far less.

  Well, if she wasn’t a widow but had had unfortunate experiences, he could overlook that. In truth, it meant she was no better than he. He’d had any number of experiences although he wouldn’t recall any that had been unfortunate. But the world judged women differently than they did men. He’d never really thought about what he wanted in a wife—had really never considered a wife at all until he’d inherited his title—and it was too late now. Sidney was the only woman in the world for him, the only one he wanted now and for the rest of his life. He was more than willing to ignore anything in her past and hoped she would be willing to do the same. Nothing mattered before they met.

  Still, he did want her to admit that he was right.

  “As I said it was a long time ago.” She paused. “I am sorry about your friend.”

  “My friend?”

  “The one who died here? Mr. Pickering.”

  “Walter.” He blew a resigned breath. “How did you hear about Walter?”

  “Mr. Nazzal told me. I asked him about you.”

  “I see.” If Nazzal had said anything about Harry’s title, Sidney would have mentioned it by now. If she knew he wasn’t the nephew of the man determined to destroy her career but the man himself, without question she would have confronted him. Even so, he held his breath. “And did you learn anything interesting?”

  “Nothing, apparently, that isn’t common knowledge. I learned your father is a scholar and an expert on Egypt. I discovered you were more familiar with Egypt than I had been led to believe and you and your friends spent nearly twenty years here.”

  “He was right.” Harry chuckled. “All common knowledge.”

  “He said some very nice things as well.”

  “I wouldn’t believe them if I were you.”

  “I would tell you but they’d go straight to your head.” She chuckled softly.