Sidney wasn’t quite sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if there was a place for her in his plans or not. It was past time to find out. And to tell him everything.
He met her gaze firmly. “You and I need to talk.”
She nodded. “I was thinking much the same thing.”
He got to his feet and pulled her up. “Then let’s be on our way.”
“Oh good.” A silhouette loomed against the entrance—“I thought I’d missed you”—and stepped into the candlelight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“DANIEL?” SHOCK SOUNDED in Sidney’s voice.
“What are you doing here, Corbin?” Harry narrowed his eyes. “And how did you get here?”
“And more to the point,” Sidney said slowly, “why do you have a gun?”
“I don’t usually carry firearms but Mr. Cadwallender presented it to me when I left. He said a reporter in a foreign land should always carry a pistol.” Daniel glanced at the weapon in his hand. “I did not anticipate using it. I’ve never been overly fond of guns as a rule but I can see where they might prove useful.”
“What are you doing here, Daniel?” Sidney glared.
“You know I’m the one used to asking questions but let’s see if I can answer yours. First—I’m here for that priceless piece of gold you have in your hand.”
“Well you can’t have it.” She clasped the pectoral against her chest. “It does not belong to you.”
“It doesn’t belong to you either,” he said mildly.
She ignored him. “You want to sell it, don’t you? Smuggle it out of the country and then sell it to the highest bidder. How could you?” Sidney gasped. “You’re in league with that dreadful Mr. Wallace, aren’t you? No doubt he’s the American you were to interview. You obviously saw a better way to get ahead than with a mere story.”
Corbin shot a puzzled look at Harry. “Who?”
“An antiquities collector.” Harry shrugged. He’d never been overly fond of anyone pointing a gun in his direction. At the moment, playing along with Corbin seemed the wisest move. At least until he could come up with a way to disarm the reporter. And as soon as possible. Who knew what Corbin might do if provoked.
“You really do have a splendid imagination.” Corbin chuckled. “Sorry, I’ve never heard of this American. And I’m not an uncivilized lout, Sidney. I have no intention of selling this find.” A smug note sounded in his voice. “I fully intend to turn it over to the proper authorities. I simply plan on taking the credit myself.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?
“For the story, of course. Come now. Surely you understand.” He shook his head in disappointment. “Then allow me to explain. It’s a good story if Mrs. Gordon recovers a significant artifact. It’s a better story if I do. The headline practically writes itself—‘Intrepid Reporter Solves Mystery of the Ages,’ or something like that. Readers love it when a reporter is part of the story. This is the kind of story that makes careers.” He smiled in a condescending manner. “And you of all people know how much the public loves anything to do with Egypt.”
“I thought you were here to observe, to report.” Indignation sounded in Sidney’s voice.
“And I thought you were here to prove you knew what you were writing about.”
“I do,” she said in a lofty manner.
“You’ve proved nothing other than you’re a passable tour guide.” Daniel shook his head. “No better than my guidebook really.”
She shrugged.
Corbin shifted his attention to Harry. “As for how I got here, once I traded that blasted camel for a horse—”
Sidney sucked in a hard breath. “What did you do with my friends? If you’ve hurt them—” She started forward. Harry grabbed her jacket and pulled her back. The woman really was frighteningly fearless.
“They are perfectly well.” He paused. “If you want the truth, one might say they abandoned me. A few minutes after we left you, we met a large tour group all on camels and ready to go. It too consisted mostly of older English females and your friends thought it would be an excellent idea to join them.” He rolled his gaze toward the heavens. “I assure you, I had no intention of being trapped all day with that group. You understand.”
“More than most,” Harry murmured.
“So amidst a moment of confusion—and let me tell you I could see there would be confusion all day—my camel and I slipped off, intending to join the two of you. Imagine my surprise when I saw you with horses. I promptly traded the camel for a horse and set off after you. I might not sit a camel well but I do know how to sit a horse. And I had a fairly good idea of what you were doing and what you were after.”
“How?” Harry adopted a cold tone. It wasn’t difficult.
“A bit too much conspiracy and entirely too many secrets in this group. Things were happening that I didn’t know about. Reporters hate secrets. It’s our mission in life to uncover secrets. So when your friends finally decided that perhaps they shouldn’t reveal every secret to me, I found other methods.”
“Maids? Bellmen?” There was a way out of this, Harry simply hadn’t determined what it was yet.
“Exactly.” Corbin shrugged. “It’s amazing how much listening at doors a few piastres will purchase. Although I admit I missed this little venture today. I really thought you had planned nothing more than another endless day viewing the remains of the ancient dead.” He shuddered. “I also did a good bit of checking into all parties before we even set foot on board ship.” Corbin eyed him curiously. “From what I was able to find out before we left England, you certainly have lived an interesting life.”
“Goodness, Daniel, I don’t know that any of that matters.” Sidney waved off his words. “You’re aiming a gun at us. Do you really think anything else is important?”
He gestured with the pistol. “That is.”
She clutched the pectoral closer to her chest. “You really have no decent moral standards, do you, Daniel?”
Moral standards aside, Harry didn’t think Corbin was truly dangerous. At least not yet. Still, they should watch their step.
“That’s rather like the pot calling the kettle black isn’t it, Sidney? You with your silly little stories and that Queen of the Desert nonsense. Although I will admit, you are a good writer. We would have made an excellent couple.”
“You and I? A couple?” She snorted. “Not in this lifetime.”
Harry cringed to himself. Not the worst thing to say but not good.
“I suppose you intend to kill us now.” She squared her shoulders.
That was probably the worst. “I don’t think he needs any suggestions.”
“You wound me deeply, Sidney.” Daniel heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “I have no intention of killing you. I am however, sending your horses off, returning to Cairo then heading back to England. Oh, I did notice you’re well stocked and I will leave your supplies. When I am safely on my way, I’ll send someone for you. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two. You’ll be perfectly fine. Probably.”
“You can’t get away with this,” Harry said slowly. “If, as you say, you intend to send someone back for us, what’s to prevent us from revealing everything you’ve done?”
“You can’t possibly be serious about taking credit for the pectoral,” Sidney added.
“And yet I intend to. You can read all about it when you return home.”
Her eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe such a thing. “But it’s a lie.”
“We all lie to a certain extent.” Corbin looked at Harry. “Don’t we, my lord?”
Confusion sounded in Sidney’s voice. “My lord?”
“Later, Sidney.”
“And you, the famous Mrs. Gordon.” Daniel shook his head. “You have deceived your readers for a long time.”
“Not deliberately,” she snappe
d then winced, apparently realizing she had just confessed.
He grinned. “Thank you for confirming it. Yet another story for my readers. If I intended to write it but I don’t. It all comes back to secrets. Mine but more importantly yours. You see, my dear Sidney, if you and his lordship—”
“Why does he keep calling you that?” Sidney frowned.
“I have no idea,” Harry lied.
Corbin’s eyes widened. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
“Corbin.” If the man was smart he’d understand the threat in Harry’s voice.
“Oh, this is perfect.” The reporter chuckled. “I would think after yesterday—”
Harry lunged forward but Sidney grabbed his arm.
“Now, now, Armstrong.” Corbin shook his head. “I would hate to have to shoot you.” He paused. “On second thought, I believe it would be remarkably satisfying to shoot you. But then I’d have to shoot Sidney as well and that would be regrettable.” He glanced around. “Still, no one would ever find you here.”
“I would prefer neither of us be shot,” Sidney said quickly.
“I’m not a murderer, so unless one of you does something stupid we can conclude our business and I will be on my way. As I was saying, if the two of you keep your mouths shut about the discovery of the relic, I won’t reveal what I know about the Queen of the Desert.”
“Come now, Daniel, how can we possibly believe you?” Sidney glared. “You want my grandmother’s find and even though you say you intend to hand it over to the proper authorities, we’d be fools to trust you. And that—” she nodded at his gun “—along with your intention to abandon us to an uncertain fate does not inspire trust.”
“You don’t trust me?” He snorted. “That’s rather amusing all things considered, don’t you think? You’ve been lying to your readers and he’s been lying to you. I’m the only one with a clear conscience.” He paused. “Well, until now.”
“You do realize anything could happen to us out here,” Harry said coolly.
“I do feel bad about that but it can’t be helped.” The reporter grinned. “Although, from what I’ve heard, Harry Armstrong can handle a few days in the desert. Has he told you about his colored past here in Egypt or is that yet another secret?”
“Yes,” Sidney said staunchly. “I know a great deal about his days in Egypt.”
“That’s enough, Sidney,” Harry said firmly.
She ignored him. “Admittedly, he hasn’t told me every detail of his life but I know enough to know Harry Armstrong is a good man. Honest and honorable and decent.”
“Really?” Corbin’s skeptical gaze swept over Harry. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think I might be chasing the wrong story. Perhaps the better story isn’t my find of an ancient object but the story of the two of you.”
The oddest sensation of what might well have been helplessness twisted Harry’s stomach. He could see what was coming and had no idea how to stop it.
Corbin continued. “After all, everyone loves a good story of seduction—”
“I was not seduced,” Sidney snapped.
“The beloved Mrs. Gordon swept off her feet by a man with a less-than-reputable past. The man whose sole purpose was to prove her a fraud.”
“Corbin,” Harry said in a hard tone. “I would consider my words carefully if I were you.”
“Good advice, Armstrong, which I would most certainly heed, except—” he grinned “—oh yes, that’s right. I have the gun.”
“Actually, Daniel.” Sidney raised her chin. “I quite agree. I think it’s a wonderful story.”
“Excellent. I wasn’t sure you’d like it but I’d wager the public would. They do love this sort of thing. Deception, duplicity, scandal.” He chuckled. “The Queen of the Desert falling into the—”
“Corbin.” Harry clenched his fists.
“Into the—” Corbin cleared his throat “—arms of her nemesis. The man who publicly derided not only the substance of her stories but her writing ability as well. I have always thought real life was so much more inventive than fiction. Why, one would never have imagined the two of you together—the Queen of the Desert and the Earl of Brenton.”
Sidney stared at Daniel then looked at Harry. “What is he talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter, Sidney,” Harry said quickly. “It’s over. I ended it.”
“It does matter. It matters very much.” Her eyes widened. “You’re the Earl of Brenton?”
“I can explain.”
“Can you? I doubt that.”
“I admit I should have told you who I was from the beginning. That was an error in judgement on my part.”
“To say the least!”
“But I’ve fixed it.”
She shook her head in confusion. “What?”
“Yesterday, I sent a telegram to Cadwallender saying that I was wrong. That I had all the proof I needed. That you had convinced me as to your familiarity with Egypt. I conceded defeat. You won.”
Shock shone in her eyes. “But why?”
“Why indeed,” Corbin murmured.
“I was concerned that the longer we stayed in Egypt, the more likely it was that you and the old ladies—”
Corbin sorted.
“—would find yourselves in serious trouble. You are all too bloody stubborn for your own good and there isn’t one among you who realizes her own vulnerability. The more you tried to prove your legitimacy, the greater the possibility of trouble. Good God, Sidney, you don’t even know how to ride a horse!”
“I do now.” She shrugged in an offhanded manner. “It wasn’t that difficult.”
“I wouldn’t call that riding, more clinging to a horse in desperate hope of staying in the saddle. No, I did what I thought was best.” He met her gaze firmly. “I conceded defeat and hoped to have you all on a ship home as soon as possible.”
“I don’t know what to say about any of this.” She shook her head. “How...how...”
“Thoughtful? Considerate? Unselfish?” Harry suggested.
“Hardly! More like arrogant, controlling and manipulative!”
“Not exactly what you were hoping for, Armstrong?” Corbin chuckled.
“Shut up, Daniel,” Sidney snapped.
“I say.” Corbin had the nerve to look offended. “Don’t forget who has the gun.”
“I don’t care!” Sidney said and directed her ire back to Harry. “This is exactly the sort of thing an earl would do. You really are your uncle.”
“Not exactly as I don’t actually have an uncle.”
“Brilliant point, Harry!”
“I don’t know why you’re so upset. I was only trying to save you from yourself.”
“From myself?” Her voice rose. “From myself?
“I’m touched that you would allow me to witness all this,” Corbin said, “but I would like to be on my way.”
“You’re being unreasonable, Sidney.” Harry adopted a placating tone. “Which admittedly might be warranted to a certain extent but there’s no need to be so angry. Perhaps in your feminine irrationality—”
“Feminine irrationality?” Her eyes flashed.
“Ouch.” Corbin winced. “Poor choice, Armstrong.”
“—you’ve overlooked the fact that you won.”
“You let me win!”
Without thinking Harry grinned. It was a mistake and he knew it.
Sidney glared. “I don’t know that I can forgive you for this.”
“You should know this pistol is heavier than it looks,” Corbin pointed out.
“Forgive me for what?” Now she was being absurd. “Wanting to keep you safe? Protecting your reputation by conceding defeat and looking like an idiot in the process by the way. For having money and a title?”
“Yes! For all of it. You to
ld me your father was a scholar.”
“He’s actually my stepfather but I’ve known no other father.”
“Well he should have taught you better! This whole thing only started because of your despicable letters.”
“You didn’t have to answer them!”
“I didn’t!”
“Well, somebody did!” The answer struck him at once.
Corbin chuckled. “Now, that’s a twist.”
“You lied to me!” Sidney’s voice rose. “You lied to me from the beginning.”
“You lied to everyone!”
“That was entirely different.” She waved off the charge. “I never set out to lie to you. Or anyone. Besides you didn’t believe me for a minute. I could tell, you know.”
“That’s quite enough,” Corbin said sharply. “The two of you will have plenty of time to determine fault and blame and argue about it. As entertaining as this is—and I do wish you luck, Armstrong—but frankly, I’m finding it rather tiring.” He nodded at the pectoral still clasped in Sidney’s arms. “I’ll take that now and be on my way.”
“No.” She clutched the breastplate tighter. “Absolutely not. This was my grandmother’s last find. She would have wanted it to go to a museum or the Antiquities Society...” Her gaze shot to Harry’s, her eyes blazing. “You wanted my membership in the Antiquities Society rescinded! How could you?”
“I admit,” Harry said, choosing his words with care, “that might not have been my finest moment.”
“My grandparents were among the founders of that organization! My grandmother—” Sidney paused, her eyes widened. “My grandmother would have been most dismayed by this. All of it.” A distinct note of panic sounded in her voice.
“There’s no need for alarm.” Harry stepped closer. Good God what was wrong with the woman? This was not like her. “Really, Sidney, everything will be fine.”
“No, no it won’t!” She covered her eyes with one hand and sobbed. Or hiccupped—it was impossible to tell.
“What is she doing?” Corbin frowned.
“She’s obviously upset,” Harry snapped. “Can you blame her? Bloody hell, man, you’re pointing a gun at her.”
Lady Travelers Guide to Deception with an Unlikely Earl Page 30