Lady Travelers Guide to Deception with an Unlikely Earl

by Victoria Alexander

  Even if her thoughts had been entirely serene, Sidney doubted she could have slept a wink. She was not accustomed to sleeping on the ground. And, as she could not get her mind off sand fleas, whether they were present or not, she was beginning to itch.

  This morning everything had been so clear. Well, certainly clearer than now. Harry had not directly declared his affections but he had spoken of love. That was before she had learned he was the one who had started all of this. One could argue trying to destroy her livelihood was unforgivable.

  Or one could point out that she wouldn’t be here at all—on the kind of grand adventure she’d never truly in her heart expected. She would not have recovered her grandmother’s last find. She would not have fallen in love.

  A restless sleep finally claimed her shortly before dawn. She had managed to summarize her dilemma in two questions: Did she want to live the rest of her life without Harry Armstrong?

  And what would Millicent do?

  * * *

  BY MORNING, SHE knew what should be done with Daniel. Harry was still in question.

  Sidney made herself as presentable as possible before joining the others—including Daniel—for breakfast. “Good morning, gentlemen. I have an idea I think will serve us all well.”

  She shifted her gaze to the reporter. “The way I see it, Daniel, you could certainly write about my deception, thus destroying my career, and it would be an excellent story. For you. Or we could tell the authorities that you planned to leave us to die in the desert—”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way,” Daniel protested.

  She ignored him. “And you attempted to steal an ancient artifact. While I suspect the Egyptian authorities won’t be overly upset at your leaving us behind they will be rather put out at the idea of your stealing their heritage.” She met his gaze directly. “Have you ever been in an Egyptian jail, Daniel?”

  Harry choked. The reporter paled.

  “I have it on very good authority that it’s not especially pleasant.”

  “So are we to trade my silence about your writing for silence about all this?” A hopeful note sounded in Daniel’s voice. “Which does seem reasonable to me.”

  “To you perhaps. Goodness, Daniel, did you think I was offering you a bargain? I wasn’t.” She smiled and looked at Harry. “How moral of a man are you, Harry?”

  “It depends upon what you mean by moral.” His brow furrowed. “Are you speaking of murder? You did tell me to shoot him yesterday.”

  “Justifiable really as I was annoyed at the time.” She waved off the comment. “And I knew you wouldn’t. Although he was about to do very much the same thing to us. Not shoot us, of course, but abandon us in very precarious circumstances.”

  “I am not predisposed to murder either,” Walter said.

  Sidney glared at both men. “Did either of you honestly think I would advocate the taking of a life? Even his?”

  “Not me,” Daniel said quickly. “I had faith in you.”

  “I am both offended and appalled.” Sidney crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Our apologies,” Walter said.

  “Our abject, unhesitating apologies,” Harry added.

  “Accepted.” She nodded. “I was thinking since Mr. Corbin wanted a good story, we should give him one. One that does not deal with the veracity of my writing, anything to do with his lordship and myself or the miraculous survival of Mr. Pickering.”

  “That is a good story. I hadn’t thought of that one.” Daniel frowned. “But if you eliminate all those possibilities, there’s nothing left.”

  “On the contrary, I think a month in the desert with a Bedouin tribe—better yet six months—would give you a great deal to write about. Why, you might end up being called the King of the Desert. If, of course, Mr. Pickering is willing.”

  “Could I sell him?” Walter said in aside to Harry.

  Harry shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I have no choice, do I?” Resignation sounded in Daniel’s voice.

  “Oh, but you do,” Sidney said pleasantly. “A grand adventure that might make your career or an Egyptian jail.”

  Daniel huffed. “Not much of a choice.”

  Sidney smiled. “I never said it was a good choice.”

  “That was rather brilliant, Miss Honeywell,” Walter said. “Corbin, my men will see you to your quarters and then we’ll have a long talk.”

  Daniel muttered something under his breath then sighed. “Very well.” He turned to Sidney. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure but...” He smiled wryly. “It will be a good story. Sidney, Armstrong.” He nodded and followed Walter’s men.

  “I was afraid you were going to offer him Walter’s story,” Harry said in an aside.

  “Oh, I don’t think he should be rewarded. Now, if he wants to be part of the story, he’ll have to work for it. Besides, I think if anyone should write Walter’s story, it should be you.”

  “That’s an interesting idea,” he said thoughtfully.

  A half an hour later, Sidney and Harry were ready to depart.

  “Thank you for rescuing us, Walter.” Sidney cast him her brightest smile. “I do hope to see you again someday.”

  “That would be a very great pleasure.” He turned to Harry. “I assume you’ll let Ben know.”

  Harry nodded. “I intend to send a telegram the moment we return to Cairo.” He paused. “Will I see you again?”

  Walter shrugged. “Who knows what life will bring next, Harry old man. Someday your butler might announce you have an unexpected visitor.”

  “Or I could ride back into your camp.” Harry grinned but there was the tiniest hint of regret. “Take care, Walter.”

  “Travel safe, my friend.”

  Sidney was helped into her saddle. Harry mounted his horse and they headed toward Bedrachin where they were just in time for the next train. Harry was remarkably silent all the way back to Cairo but then so was she. Apparently he too had a great deal of thinking to do. After all, it wasn’t every day one’s good friend was resurrected and the reason for one’s guilt vanquished.

  They had barely stepped foot in the hotel when Mr. Nazzal appeared to take possession of the pectoral, adding his apologies for not telling Harry that Walter was alive but he had only confirmed it a few days ago. He assured Sidney the ladies knew she was safe and said he would let her know if the pectoral proved as interesting as they all hoped it was. She was grateful her friends weren’t waiting in the lobby for them. All she wanted at the moment was a bath and a change of clothes.

  “You scarcely said anything all the way here,” she said as they approached the lift.

  “I was waiting for you.” He shrugged. “I figured it was your turn.”

  She nodded. “Yesterday, you said we needed to talk. Of course that was before Daniel turned out to be a cad and your dead friend came back to life.”

  “I did but you know everything now.”

  “Yes, but you don’t.”

  He raised a brow. “Are you going to confess all?”

  “More than you suspect.” She drew a deep breath.

  “There you are.” Effie swept toward them, Gwen and Poppy a step behind.

  Harry leaned in. “I expect to continue this later.”

  She smiled weakly. “I thought you would.”

  Effie threw her arms around Sidney as did the other ladies. For a few minutes, she was bombarded by questions and declarations and everyone talking at once.

  “We were so worried about you.” Effie sniffed back a tear.

  “But that nice Mr. Nazzal assured us you were fine,” Poppy added. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Unfortunately, we seemed to have lost Daniel.” Gwen frowned. “Although, we are confident he can take care of himself. Still, one does hate to misplace a member of one
’s party.”

  “We have a great deal to tell you.” Sidney glanced around. “Where’s Harry?”

  “He muttered something vague about lady travelers and no privacy. Then he left,” Effie said. “He might have mentioned something about a bath.”

  Poppy sniffed delicately. “Might I suggest you avail yourself of one as well?”

  “I intend to.” Sidney nodded. And then it was indeed time for her confession. Time to clear the air and tell him everything.

  Whether she wanted to or not.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  SIDNEY BARELY HAD an hour to bathe and dress before the ladies appeared at her door. She was lucky to get that much time as her friends claimed to be dying of curiosity. She quickly filled them in on everything from the finding of the pectoral to Daniel’s betrayal—at which point Effie said she would have shot him and would have enjoyed it—to Walter’s resurrection and Harry’s deception.

  The ladies sat on the sofa like an odd sort of jury. They hadn’t interrupted her once. It was not at all like them and rather disquieting. Sidney studied them closely. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “My, that was an adventure.” Poppy smiled uncertainly. “Millicent Forester couldn’t have done better.”

  “There is one point that I find confusing.” Gwen thought for a moment. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you say Harry sent a telegram to Mr. Cadwallender conceding defeat?”

  She nodded.

  “So victory is yours.” Effie beamed. “Well done, Sidney.”

  “I haven’t done anything. He let me win.”

  Poppy brightened. “And wasn’t that sweet of him?”

  “Sweet?” Sidney’s voice rose. “He only did it to get us out of Egypt.”

  “He did it to save us from possible harm.” Gwen shook her head. “Unwarranted, of course, but terribly thoughtful of him nonetheless.”

  “I wouldn’t call it thoughtful.” Sidney stared at them. “I’d call it cunning and clever and calculating.”

  “Well, dear, you may call it whatever you want,” Effie said, her gaze meeting Sidney’s. “But you would be wrong.”

  Sidney shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t think—”

  “Then you need to start thinking,” Gwen said in a no-nonsense tone. “This is a man who has set his own pride aside, pride that got him into all this in the first place, to do what he thought necessary to keep you safe. It might not have been the best action he could have taken but you can’t fault him for being an idiot.”

  “All men are idiots to a certain extent,” Poppy added. “Why, I’m not sure one who wasn’t would be any fun at all. It really does give us an advantage they never suspect.”

  “And it does seem to us, a man who would voluntarily lose at anything in order to save a woman, whether his actions were misguided or not—” Effie shrugged “—is a man worth keeping.”

  “But he lied to me.”

  All three ladies gave her identical chastising looks.

  “Yes, yes, I know but I lied to everyone—not just him. It wasn’t personal. Furthermore, I did not intend to lie. There is a difference, you know.”

  “And one should probably consider the difference as well between a man who has a title and fortune and conceals it and one who claims to have a title and fortune and doesn’t.” Poppy grimaced. “In the scheme of things, one is eminently forgivable and the other isn’t.”

  Sidney stared in disbelief. “You’re on his side. All of you.”

  “No, Sidney.” Effie pinned her with a firm look. “We are on your side. Always.”

  “As odd as it may sound, we have simply come to the conclusion that you and Harry are somehow on the same side now. Those sorts of things often happen when one falls in love.” Gwen studied her curiously. “And really, Sidney, we’d be shocked if you didn’t already know that.”

  “It’s possible I suppose.” They were right and Sidney did indeed know it.

  “Tell us, Sidney,” Poppy said briskly, “what are you going to do now?”

  She shook her head. “There are still things he doesn’t know.”

  “Then you should march right down to his room and tell him.” Gwen gestured toward the door. “I would suggest at once.”

  “Millicent would.” Poppy nodded.

  “Millicent is fictional, dear.” Effie eyed Sidney thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s time you stopped considering what Millicent Forester would do—”

  Sidney opened her mouth to protest but Effie narrowed her eyes and Sidney reconsidered.

  “—or what Mrs. Gordon would do. Perhaps it’s time to consider what Sidney Honeywell would do.”

  “Sidney Honeywell has never done anything,” Sidney said sharply.

  “Sidney Honeywell created Millicent and Mrs. Gordon.” Gwen ticked the points off on her fingers. “She cared for her mother, became an expert on Egypt as well as a successful writer and she finished her grandmother’s work.”

  Sidney shook her head. “That was not why I came here.”

  “Regardless.” Poppy smiled. “The end result is what matters.”

  “The Sidney Honeywell we know had the courage to leave her very safe world of words to come to Egypt in the first place.” Effie’s voice softened. “It seems to us, she should have the courage as well to trust the quite wonderful man who is so clearly in love with her.”

  Sidney stared at the trio for a long moment. It was easy to talk about courage, gathering it was a different matter. Did she have the courage to tell Harry everything regardless of the consequences? Did she have a choice?

  “If you will excuse me, ladies.” Sidney nodded and left her room before the resolve she’d managed to muster vanished. She strode briskly down the hall and knocked on Harry’s door.

  He opened it at once and she had the distinct impression that he was about to leave. His hair was still damp from his bath and for a moment, desire threatened to overcome apprehension.

  “Harry,” she said firmly and marched into his suite. “It’s time we talked. Past time really.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” he said cautiously and closed the door behind him.

  “Do you want to sit down?”

  “Not especially.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door. “Go on. Talk.”

  “Very well.” She clasped her hands together—she didn’t know what else to do with them—and drew a deep breath. “It’s become apparent to me that I’ve been so busy keeping the truth about my writing from you, I have not told you much of anything about myself.”

  “I don’t need to know,” he said coolly. “Anything in your life that happened before you met me doesn’t concern me in the least.”

  “Very noble.” And really quite nice. “Nonetheless, I don’t want any more secrets between us. And you deserve the truth.”

  “The truth? That will be a change.” He bit back a grin. Wise of him. “Do go on.”

  “There’s really little of interest to tell. I attended a well-respected school for girls. When my father died I took care of my mother until her death some four years ago now. I’ve had a passion for Egypt ever since I first met Aunt Effie and learned about my grandparents. After my mother died I started writing. I thought I had had been quite clear in stating my stories were simply based on true events—I never claimed they were my experiences but apparently people didn’t notice.”

  “People see what they want to see or what they need to see.” He paused. “Is that all?”

  “You were right about me from the beginning.”

  “Oh, I knew that.” He smirked. “I am usually right.”

  She ignored him. “I never realized I was competitive but apparently I am. Or maybe it’s because I could go anywhere and do anything as Millicent. I was not willing to allow someone else to take that away from me.�
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  He nodded. “Understandable.”

  “You’re very clever, Harry Armstrong, and it was apparent to me it was only a matter of time before you denounced me so I chose to end my stories.”

  His brow furrowed. “You what?”

  “I mailed my final installment of Tales of a Lady Adventurer in Egypt to Mr. Cadwallender a few days ago. Millicent Forester has at last decided to give her hand to Richard Weatherly. And they are off to have new adventures together. None of which are for publication.” She braced herself. “I couldn’t allow you to win—to take my stories away from me. So I chose to end them.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So this game between us was a draw?”

  “Exactly.” She paused. “Well a tiny bit more of a victory for me but I think we can consider it a draw.”

  “You thought I’d be angry about this?”

  “You are terribly arrogant, Harry. Not at all the type of man who likes to lose.”

  “No one likes to lose. And I would consider it a compromise rather than a draw.” He chuckled. “I’ve never been especially fond of compromise either.”

  “So, this doesn’t bother you?” she said slowly. “The fact that I beat you at what was essentially your own game?”

  “When you put it that way...” He shrugged. “No, not really. I didn’t lose after all. Anything else?”

  “Nothing of significance.” Although it was probably best to tell him everything. “Your writing is terrible.”

  “Ah yes, I could have done without that bit of truth but thank you.”

  “You have entirely too many sand fleas and vermin.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  “But, from what little I read, I suspect you have wonderful stories to tell. And I intend to write them, with your assistance, of course.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “Walter is alive and apparently content. With any luck at all, he’ll have a long life ahead of him. There will be people who will remember him. He doesn’t need my help now. And I don’t need to tell our stories anymore.” His gaze met hers. “You did this, Sidney. You brought me back to Egypt. You redeemed my soul.”