Nothing else was said for some time. He thought she was asleep and was just on the verge of slumber himself. “I understand why you don’t want to talk about your friend.”
Yet another secret. He drew a deep breath. “Walter Pickering, Benjamin Deane and I left Cambridge to conquer Egypt and make our fortunes nearly twenty years ago now. And we were fairly successful although our purpose, oh, evolved I would say, through the years. Monetary reward became less important than saving the past. Preserving it, I suppose, from people very much like we were. It was how we intended to leave our mark.
“Two years ago, we were searching for a tomb reputed to be in the Western Desert. Walter contracted a fever. It came on quickly.” Even now, he could clearly recall the details as if it were yesterday: the merciless heat, the relentless sand, the never-ending battle against biting insects. The flush of Walter’s face and the look of resignation in the eyes of the locals they had hired, as if they knew efforts to save Walter would fail. “We were some distance from Cairo, from anywhere of significance really. Walter was delirious. We tried whatever we could to bring down his fever and thought we had succeeded. At last he had fallen asleep and it seemed the worst had passed. We were all exhausted.” Aside from his father, Harry had never told this to anyone. He wasn’t sure why he was talking about it now. He and Ben never really spoke of it. What was there to say? “When we woke up he was gone. Apparently in his delirium he wandered out into the desert.”
A soft gasp sounded from Sidney’s bed.
It was hard even now to forgive that failure. Harry knew Ben had never forgiven himself either. “We searched for months and never found his body. The nature of the desert really. But Egypt wasn’t the same for us after losing Walter. We decided to return to England permanently not long after that. I didn’t think I’d ever come back to Egypt.”
“In spite of the circumstances, I’m glad you did.”
“In spite of the circumstances, so am I.” He hadn’t realized it before now, but returning to Egypt was probably a good thing. It was time to put the past behind him. Time to lay Walter to rest.
“Why are you really here tonight, Harry?” Sidney asked quietly.
“Because I’m not sure I could forgive myself if anything happened to you.” He held his breath. He’d never made such a declaration before.
She was silent for so long he wasn’t sure what to think. Surely she hadn’t fallen asleep. Or perhaps she didn’t think a response was called for. Because he had overstepped? Or revealed too much?
“Good night, Harry,” she said at last, a distinct smile in her voice.
“Good night, Sidney.”
Something inside him warmed to hear Sidney’s voice knowing it was the last thing he would hear at night. With any luck—it would soon be the last thing he heard every night for the rest of his life.
* * *
“HARRY,” SIDNEY’S VOICE sounded softly beside his ear. “You need to get up now. We’re to meet the others in less than an hour.”
He reluctantly opened his eyes. She was already dressed for the day.
He wasn’t sure when he’d had a worse night’s sleep. He’d barely had any rest at all between the discomfort of the sofa, the creaking of her bed and endless dreams of her. Sidney as a Queen of the Desert, in a terribly proper robe she discarded to reveal something vaguely resembling traditional Egyptian garments, only far more erotic and tempting. There was another dream where she was attired as a dancing girl performing a native dance that he would be hard-pressed to forget and wasn’t sure he wanted to. He dreamed he had awakened during the night to see her sitting at the writing desk, holding the medallion and reading from an old book. He’d immediately abandoned this dream for those far more interesting—Sidney on a chaise dressed as Cleopatra and beckoning him closer. It was a wonder he’d survived the night. He glanced at the desk. There was no evidence of any nocturnal activity. It was probably nothing more than her insistence on studying the medallion lingering in his head.
“You do need to leave now,” Sidney said briskly. “I would prefer no one knew you spent the night here.”
“Quite right,” he muttered and slowly unfolded himself from the cramped position forced on him by the sofa. He’d slept in tents, on the floors of caves and the antechambers of tombs—all of which seemed mild compared to the instrument of torture that was her sofa.
“What’s on the schedule for today?” he asked, hopping from one foot to the other in an attempt to put on his shoes.
“Today, we’re taking a steamer for a daylong excursion up the Nile.” She handed him his coat and he got to his feet.
“More sightseeing?” He pulled on his coat and tie.
“Well, we don’t have time to sail to Luxor or the Valley of the Kings or Karnak. I do regret that I won’t be able to visit once again all those places that are so dear to my heart.” She shook her head in a mournful manner. “The ladies did so want to sail on the Nile and I’m afraid this will have to do. Surely you wouldn’t deprive them of that?”
“No, of course not.” This was absurd. Corbin was right—this was nothing more than a tourist excursion. It certainly did not prove the veracity of Sidney’s writing. “Sidney.” He took her hands and gazed into her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s time we ended this farce?”
“Why, Harry.” Her eye widened in feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”
He would wager every penny he had she knew exactly what he meant. Still, if she wanted to continue this charade, why not?
“Very well, then.” He nodded and released her hands. “Today, we shall sail the Nile.”
“Excellent.” She cast him a satisfied smile. “Try not to be late. I’m told the steamer always leaves promptly on time.”
“Oh, and I would hate to miss it.” He was still chuckling when he left her room. One thing he could say about the love of his life: she did not admit defeat easily. He rather liked that. And admittedly, he was enjoying this game of theirs even though he intended to end it.
He changed his clothes, stopped by the telegraph office and then joined the rest of their party in front of the hotel.
Daniel was assisting the ladies into a carriage and did not look especially happy.
Harry glanced around. “Where’s Mrs. Gordon?”
“Poor dear girl.” Mrs. Higginbotham shook her head. “She woke up with a blinding headache this morning and sent word that she would be staying in bed today.”
“Did she?” Odd, she looked the picture of health less than an hour ago. What was Sidney up to now?
“Such a pity.” Lady Blodgett sighed. “We know how much Sidney was looking forward to a sail on the Nile. It’s been such a long time since she last did so.”
“She has always spoken of those days so fondly.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore smiled pleasantly.
“Well, if Mrs. Gordon isn’t coming,” Corbin began, “perhaps someone should stay here in case she needs anything.”
“Nonsense, Daniel.” Lady Blodgett waved him into the carriage and he climbed in with barely concealed reluctance. “Women, in general, do not want men around them when they are not feeling quite up to snuff.”
“Are you sure she isn’t feeling well?” Harry climbed into the carriage.
“Without question,” Mrs. Higginbotham said firmly. “Why she wasn’t looking at all well when I stopped in her room before coming down.”
“I thought you said she sent word that she wasn’t feeling well?”
“She did,” Mrs. Higginbotham said with a smug smile. “Through me.” She met his gaze directly as if daring him to challenge her statement.
“Hopefully, she’ll feel better by the time we return,” Harry said slowly.
“I have no doubt of it.” The tiniest gleam of something that might well have been triumph shone in Mrs. Higginbotham’s eyes.
Whatever Sidne
y was planning, Mrs. Higginbotham—and the other ladies he assumed—was in on it. A familiar queasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. By the time they reached the landing at Boulak, where the Nile steamers departed, Harry had realized, while his vison of Sidney in suggestive harem dress had certainly been a dream, her studying the medallion had not. Whatever she was up to no doubt had to do with the artifact. He was not about to allow her to do whatever it was she had planned alone. Not if he had anything to say about it.
They boarded the steamer and he waited until the deckhands were just about to remove the gangplank.
“Damnation.” He gasped and patted his waistcoat pockets. “I don’t have my watch.”
“You probably left it in your room.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore smiled in sympathy. “I forget things all the time.”
“You don’t understand.” He adopted a note of panic. “That watch is a talisman of sorts, a good luck charm if you will. I never go anywhere without it. I have to have it. You understand.” He hurried toward the gangplank.
“You’ll miss the boat, Harry,” one of the ladies called after him.
The gangplank had just been pulled onto the deck. Damn! He had cut it entirely too close. Still there was nothing to be done about it. He had no choice. He took a running start and jumped for the dock across the rapidly widening water, not entirely confident as to the outcome. His feet thudded on the wooden planks with a good inch to spare and he grinned with relief. And a certain amount of pride. It had been some time after all.
On the steamer, the ladies stared in disbelief. He took off his hat and swept an exaggerated bow, in the best manner of any stage performer. The ladies waved back at him although he thought their efforts rather halfhearted. No doubt their mission for today was to keep him and Corbin out of Sidney’s way. He grinned and headed for the cabs.
Sidney had underestimated him. He said he intended to protect her, and protect her he would.
Whether she wanted him to or not.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SIDNEY WAS IN her room when Harry returned to the hotel, according to a helpful maid. He grabbed today’s Gazette and took a seat in a shadowed corner of the grand lobby, with an excellent view of the lifts, the stairs and the exits. He didn’t wait long.
Scarcely three-quarters of an hour later. Sidney came down in the lift carrying a large envelope. She stopped at the post office, reappeared without the envelope, then headed out the hotel door, as relaxed and serene as if she were going to a picnic at the khedive’s palace. He doubted she’d received yet another royal invitation but then one never knew who might have read that blasted book of hers. She’d been given diamonds by a princess because of it for God’s sake. In spite of the fact that her stories weren’t true, one should perhaps give her credit for her success. Obviously people liked what she wrote. The moment she walked out the door, he was up and following her.
It was not at all hard to keep her in sight but then she had no reason to think anyone might be following her. She certainly took no precautions of any kind. His teeth clenched. The woman had no fear whatsoever. It was at once charming and exceptionally annoying. Women did not go wandering around Cairo on their own, even in the middle of the day. It was a bad idea and he did not like it.
At the very moment he decided he’d had enough of this and he needed to join her for her own good, she turned into the Hotel d’Angleterre. He was no more than a few yards behind her. He entered to see her disappearing into the dining room. Surely she wasn’t here simply to eat? Unless they’d hired a new chef, the food here was no more than adequate. He slipped into the dining room and positioned himself behind a huge urn filled with palm fronds set in front of a column. The waiters ignored him. They’d probably seen far stranger behavior.
Harry scanned the room, more than half-full of diners. He spotted Sidney, her back to him—good God! She was meeting Nazzal? Wasn’t this interesting. They talked for a few minutes then Sidney discreetly reached into her bag, palmed something and handed it to Nazzal. Nicely done. The Egyptian however was not as circumspect and Harry could see it was the medallion. Obviously, Sidney’s study of the object was not as aimless as she had implied. At one point she passed him a piece of paper that they appeared to discuss for a few minutes before he folded it and put in a pocket. Nazzal then returned the relic, which made no sense at all.
Harry caught Nazzal’s eye when Sidney got up to leave a half an hour or so later. Nazzal showed no more than a flicker of surprise but his smile grew slightly wider. Harry followed Sidney back to Shepheard’s, waited until she was in her room and paid a bellboy to let him know if she so much as poked her head out the door. Then he headed for the bar.
Nazzal had chosen a different table today. This one in the corner, far more private and far less susceptible to eavesdropping.
“Sit down, my friend.” Nazzal indicated the empty chair. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”
“Because you knew I’d need it?” Harry settled into the chair and took a deep swallow of the gin and tonic.
“Well, I knew when I spotted you you would want to talk as well.” Nazzal chuckled. “I was right in the beginning. About a woman getting the best of you.”
“Not yet. So what’s this all about?”
“Regardless of the truth about her experiences as detailed in her writing, she is well versed in the study of Egypt. Did you know she reads hieroglyphics?”
“I read hieroglyphics.”
“As do I but this is the land of my birth and you learned out of necessity. And slowly I might add.”
Harry shrugged.
“She convinced me to let her keep the medallion for now.”
“Why?”
“Because she thinks it fits into a larger piece. Possibly rectangular. There are four evenly spaced notches on the medallion. Mrs. Gordon thinks that’s what holds it in position in the larger piece.”
“Interesting assumption.” Harry thought for a moment. “Does she have any other basis for this conjecture?”
“The images on one side are a complete design within the circle of the medallion. On the other side, the engravings appear to be only part of a larger design. She also thinks the perspective indicates a four-sided shape.”
“Does she?” Harry studied Nazzal closely. “There’s more isn’t there? What is it?”
“She thinks when this medallion is reunited with the larger piece—possibly a pectoral—it will reveal something quite significant.”
“For example.”
“The location of Itjtawy.” Nazzal’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if it wasn’t the least bit important.
“Itjtawy,” Harry said slowly, the true significance of the Egyptian’s statement gradually dawning on him. “Middle Kingdom? Capital of Egypt for hundreds of years? Lost for thousands more? That would be the find of the century.”
“Wouldn’t it be amusing if this woman you claim is a fraud leads us to find something quite remarkable.”
“Amusing isn’t the word I’d use.” Was it even remotely possible that Harry had been wrong all along about Sidney’s writing? No. There had to be another explanation.
“Perhaps not for you.” Nazzal leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Mrs. Gordon asked me to help her find a man who used to work with her grandparents.”
“Her grandparents?”
“Apparently they spent quite a lot of time in Egypt. Before my time, of course, but they had an excellent reputation and made a few significant discoveries.”
Harry shook his head. “I had no idea.”
Nazzal raised a brow. “You did not make inquiries about her before you started this venture?”
“Afraid not.” He hadn’t even thought of it and he certainly should have. But he’d been too busy being righteous and indignant.
“I see. Tell me, when one receives a title and money does one then becom
e an idiot?”
“Apparently.”
“There’s more but I think it best if she tells you herself. I will say, I am quite impressed with your Mrs. Gordon.” He paused. “You might find it interesting that she said she was not at all who people thought she was but she did intend to be.”
“I don’t know what to make of that.” Yet another piece of the puzzle that was Sidney Gordon.
“She might not be the Queen of the Desert, Harry, but she might be something quite a bit more interesting.”
“That, at least, my friend—” Harry raised his glass “—I do know.”
* * *
“HARRY!” SIDNEY’S EYES lit with welcome. “You’re back. And far earlier than I expected. I thought you wouldn’t be back until evening.”
“I missed the boat.” He stepped into her room and she closed the door behind him.
“Did you?” Her eyes widened. “Then where have you been all day?”
“I think a more pertinent question is, where have you been?”
“Come now, Harry.” She moved close and gazed up into his eyes in a decidedly flirtatious manner. “I think you know.”
“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.
“I mean—” her voice hardened and she stepped back “—I saw you.”
“Saw me?”
“Yes, in the lobby. And on the street. And at the Hotel d’Angleterre.” She huffed. “I don’t like being followed and I don’t like being spied upon and I don’t need your protection. I am not some sort of feeble, insipid creature who swoons at the mere hint of trouble. I have taken care of myself for a very long time.”
He started to protest but she held up her hand.
“However, I will confess there was something quite heartening about knowing you were there should I need you. So you have my thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said slowly. Of all the things he thought might happen, this was not one of them.
“Furthermore, it works out quite nicely that you are not cruising the Nile as I would appreciate your help.”
Lady Travelers Guide to Deception with an Unlikely Earl Page 24