As Mallory stepped forward, she came in contact with a lean, hard body, and Lord Michael steadied her.
"I beg your pardon, Lady Mallory."
She looked into those cool eyes and knew his mind was not really on her, but on whatever it was that had brought him to Egypt. There was something mysterious about this man, something that thrilled and intrigued her. As she stepped away from him, she realized she would never know what mystery he hid behind those expressive eyes. Even though he predicted they would probably meet in Cairo, she doubted she would ever see him again. But it would be a long time before she would forget him.
"I hope your stay in Egypt is all you hope it to be, m'lord," Mrs. Wickett said, as she took Mallory's arm and steered her down the gangplank. To Mallory, she whispered, "If you weren't so young, my dear, he would be such a match for you." She babbled on good-naturedly, for there was no harm in the little lady. "You are very presentable, and I daresay that, had the two of you met in London, you would have had a better chance to become acquainted."
Mallory's first footstep onto land was jarring. After being on shipboard so long, her legs didn't seem to want to obey her. Mrs. Wickett, seeing her dilemma, smiled understandingly. "The feeling will soon pass when you get your land legs. It's always a shock when experiencing it for the first time."
When they reached Sergeant Wickett, husband and wife hugged perfunctorily, and Mallory would have thought them indifferent to one another if it weren't for the softness in their eyes when they embraced.
Afterward, Mallory was presented to Sergeant Wickett, and she found him as amiable as his wife. Deciding to give the two of them a moment alone, Mallory walked a few steps away and stared at the flurry taking place on the waterfront.
Her eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight reflecting off the blue Mediterranean. In the distance, she could hear the sound of the Moslems being called to morning prayer. Suddenly, she caught movement to her left, and turned to see Khaldun Shemsa dart behind a cart. His actions were mysterious, almost covert. When she moved toward the cart, he had disappeared. Was everyone in Egypt so perplex?
Mallory forgot about the Arab's strange behavior and stared at the sights around her. She could see a busy thoroughfare in the distance, filled with throngs of people. There were camels, sheep, and two-wheeled carts that were pulled by donkeys. This was a world like nothing she could have imagined. She watched women, shapeless in their black garments, their faces covered but for their eyes. What kind of people were these who hid their faces and lived their lives in secret except when they were in their own homes? It would be interesting to learn more about them.
Mallory was soon seated in a cart beside Mrs. Wickett, while Sergeant Wickett instructed the porters to place their trunks in the back. At last they were on their way down the clay-packed streets, the driver of the carriage weaving in and out of the heavy traffic.
Mallory's first view of the Nile River came unexpectedly. The carriage turned a corner, and there the muddy, winding river was spread out before them, shimmering in the sun.
She was helped from the carriage by Sergeant Wickett, and they were soon aboard the small barge that would transport them to Cairo. The barge was crowded with a press of humanity, and there were even goats and sheep in a cor-doned-off area. The smell was offensive, and she turned her face into the wind—she would not get sick—she would not.
As they got under way, Mallory could feel the heat like a heavy hand pressing in on her, which, combined with the unpleasant smell of the animals, made her stomach heave. With a trembling hand, she untied the ribbon of her bonnet and leaned her head over the side of the boat.
"This is the most difficult part," Sergeant Wickett assured her, detecting her condition. "Alas, I fear you will find this leg of the journey most uncomfortable. We will be forced to sleep on deck. But I will try and make you as comfortable as possible. I have brought supplies and bedrolls."
She smiled at him. "I feel better now. It's just the heat."
"Egypt hasn't a fit climate for a gentle-bred Englishwoman." Mrs. Wickett snorted. "Didn't I tell you so, m'lady?"
By midafternoon they had left the coastal fishing village behind and started the journey that would snake its way through a fertile farmland and into the very interior of Egypt. The meeting with her parents lay ahead, and Mallory could only guess at her reception.
She imagined her mother counting the hours until she arrived. She had half hoped that her parents would greet her when she stepped off the Iberia. Of course, they would be too busy to come all the way to Aboukir. But that didn't mean they wouldn't be glad to see her.
Michael glanced across the deck of the barge and nodded at Mrs. Wickett. He watched a gust of wind rip the straw bonnet from Lady Mallory's head and miraculously drop it at his feet. He retrieved the bonnet and walked toward her, extending it to her on his fingers.
"You had better tie the ribbon beneath your chin, or next time, it may be blown overboard."
"Thank you," she said, feeling embarrassed for fear he would think she had deliberately lost her bonnet to gain his notice. "I'll tie it now, and it won't happen again."
For the moment, he was fascinated by the sun reflecting on her dark auburn hair that had come tumbling down her back almost to her waist. Why had he not noticed before how lovely she was? The small sprinkle of freckles across her nose somehow bespoke a spirited young girl with little care for her outward appearance. How different she was from Lady Samantha, who was always so meticulously groomed.
He turned his attention to the distant horizon, and his mind raced ahead to his meeting with the British consul in Cairo. Perhaps they'd had word of his father by now, perhaps they had even located him.
"Lord Michael, I'd be pleased to present my husband, Sergeant Wickett," Mrs. Wickett said, glad for a chance to show her husband the illustrious nobleman she had become acquainted with.
The two men exchanged greetings. "Sergeant, perhaps you can explain some things to me about this country. I'd be very interested in your views."
"You must join us for lunch, and the two of you can talk," Mrs. Wickett offered, unwilling to be left out of any conversation involving Lord Michael. "My husband brought a basket of food, and there's plenty here for all of us."
Michael smiled at the woman who reminded him in some way of his own Aunt Mary. "I'd be delighted to join you, Mrs. Wickett."
The resourceful little woman found a secluded area among grain barrels and wooden crates. With Mallory's help, she turned a crate into a table. Mrs. Wickett spread out her provisions, which consisted of cheese, bread, oranges, and dates.
The two men were deep in conversation, so Mallory was able to observe Lord Michael without him being aware of her interest. Because of the heat, he'd asked permission to remove his coat, and it was thrown carelessly across a barrel. She could see that the white shirt fit snugly across his wide shoulders. His gray trousers molded to the length of his long, muscled legs. Dark hair curled at the nape of his collar and fell carelessly across his forehead. His brows were dark and winged above long lashes. His skin was browned from the sun, enhancing the brilliant green of his eyes.
Mallory quickly lowered her head when Lord Michael glanced at her. She could feel the fever of a blush spread over her face at being caught watching him.
"And you, Lady Mallory," he inquired, "is Egypt everything you'd hoped?"
She lifted her head to meet the mockery in his eyes. "I will reserve my judgment until we reach Cairo."
"I feel sure your parents eagerly await your arrival," Sergeant Wickett assured her. "I. have been to Lord Tyler's residence on several occasions. You'll be quite comfortable there. It's easy to find since it's right across the street from El-Azhar University. It has high walls that surround a magnificent garden filled with citrus trees and date palms."
"Have my mother or father spoken to you about my arrival?"
He smiled apologetically. "You'll have to understand that I don't see them socially. My visits to the
ir residence are of an official capacity."
Mallory fell silent, and Sergeant Wickett turned his attention back to Lord Michael. She was suddenly struck by a feeling of homesickness and longed for the cool climate of England.
The English passengers paid no heed to the three men swathed in black robes. Dark, hostile eyes watched Michael's every move. They observed his interest in the woman with the red hair and decided among themselves that when they reached Cairo, they would also have the woman watched. They knew it would not be wise to approach their quarry with the Inglizi sergeant on board. The time would come when they would find him alone— then they would strike.
The sun had long since disappeared beyond the muddy banks of the Nile before Michael took leave of Sergeant Wickett. Mrs. Wickett had skillfully curtained off a section of the deck so she and Mallory could have privacy while they slept.
It was cooler now, and Mallory was exhausted. As soon as she lay upon her bedroll, she fell fast asleep.
Her sleep was disturbing because she dreamed of haunting green eyes that probed to the very depths of her soul. It didn't matter that there could never be anything between Lord Michael and her, her dreams were her own and no one would ever have to know that her heart beat faster every time she thought about him.
Before dawn, Mallory was awakened by Mrs. Wickett. "Dear, I thought you might like to freshen your appearance. We are just coming into Cairo."
As she washed from a jug of water, Mallory felt the boat bump against the pier. Hurriedly, she brushed her hair and secured it to the back of her head. Her clothes were hopelessly creased since she'd been forced to sleep in them, but there was no place to change into a fresh gown.
As she emerged from the curtained-off area, she secretly hoped to see Lord Michael once more, but he was not among the waiting passengers, so he must have already departed. She would always remember their encounters, even their disagreements, with fondness.
As the donkey cart rambled over the uneven streets, Sergeant Wickett informed Mallory about the points of interest. "Look, just there," he said, glad to display his knowledge of the city, "see the tall, Byzantine-style mosque that sits atop the great citadel? The one that towers above the rest?"
Mallory glanced at the silver domes that gleamed in the noonday sun. "Yes, I see it."
"That's the Citadel of Cairo. It was planned by the great Saladin, himself." Wickett smiled. "You have no doubt, Lady Mallory, heard of the great Saladin, who defeated our Richard the Lion-heart in the Crusades?"
Mallory nodded eagerly, engrossed in his story. "Yes, of course."
"Saladin took many Crusaders as his prisoners and forced them into labor to make Cairo an impregnable city. That is, in a way justice, is it not?"
Mrs. Wickett was not so magnanimous. "Had our solders captured that man, I'm certain he would have been sent to the Tower and lost his head."
Mallory watched the sights in fascination. Her eyes followed a tall man wearing a black robe and white turban, who carried braided strands of garlic over his shoulder. His voice called out, hawking the prized spice that the Egyptian women used to season their food.
The streets were so crowded with humans and animals that they made slow progress, but Mallory didn't care— she relished each new sight and sound. She was feeling truly alive, enjoying a freedom that she had never experienced before. She was going to love Egypt, she was sure of it.
Chapter 10
Michael arrived at the British consulate and was immediately shown into a small, cluttered office. Behind an imposing desk was a life-size portrait of Queen Victoria.
Michael was greeted by a little man who kept taking out his watch and checking the time, and Michael concluded that this act was performed more out of nervousness than a need to know the correct time.
The man stared anxiously over the brim of his thick glasses. "I'm sorry, m'lord, but the consul is away from Cairo and I don't know when he'll be returning. He's gone to London."
Michael's eyes narrowed. "Then who might you be?"
"I'm the vice-consul, Thomas Abrams, at your service, m'lord.
"Can you help me?" Michael asked.
"If you mean about your father, I don't have any new information about him. But be assured that his lordship will take up the matter with the queen."
"It seems to me that my father's cause would have been better served if the consul had remained in Egypt instead of conferring with the queen in London."
"Well, as to that, I don't know," the man sputtered. "Perhaps I can be of help to you."
Michael leaned forward, placing an impatient hand on the polished desk. "Mr. Abrams, how can you possibly help me?"
"I've been left in charge of your father's case. However, I don't know what anyone can do to find him."
Michael gave him an imperious glare. "You are the third person I've seen today, and none of them could tell me anything about my father either." He stood, towering over the man. "I'll not deal with an underling—do I make myself understood? Unless you can provide me with the information I need, I'll find out on my own."
If the man took offense, he still spoke to Lord Michael with respect. "We found your father's servant, and buried him. But there was no clue as to your father's whereabouts. How can you find a man when it seems that the desert sand just swallowed him up?"
"Mr. Abrams, you must understand I will not leave until I know all there is to know about my father. Just what has this office done to locate him?"
"We've talked to the viceroy, Mehemet Ali, and he assures us everything is being done to locate your father. He's a good man and will do what he can to help."
"Well, if neither you nor the viceroy know where my father is, or who's responsible for his disappearance, then you're not doing enough."
"Now, see here, m'lord—"
"No, you see here, Mr. Abrams. I want some answers and I want them now. If you can't get them for me, as I told you, I'll find someone who can."
Abrams removed his glasses and anxiously wiped them with his handkerchief, feeling inadequate in dealing with the earl. Why had the consul chosen this time to leave the country? he wondered. "I'm sure if the consul were here, he could tell you no more than I have, m'lord. But you must understand that I have no authority to help you in a matter concerning Egyptian policy."
"Then I'll ask for an audience with the viceroy. Damn it, someone is going to give me the answers I seek, or I'll bring so much trouble down on your head, you'll never be able to free yourself."
Looking into angry green eyes, Abrams never doubted for a moment that Lord Michael would do just as he threatened. He searched his mind for a solution to the dilemma. Surely he would lose his position and be sent back to England in disgrace if he made a wrong decision. "I'll attempt to arrange an audience with Mehemet Ali, but it won't be easy. Come back this afternoon, and I'll know if he will see you. However, I doubt he'll be able to tell you more than I have."
The cart came to a halt in front of an imposing wall that looked more like a compound than a private residence. "This is your parents' house," Sergeant Wickett announced.
Mallory glanced at the high walls, feeling raw panic. She would soon be with her mother and father—would they welcome her or look on her as an encumbrance?
"Shall we come in with you, m'lady?" Mrs. Wickett offered.
"I'm sure you two have many things to do, while I must become reacquainted with my parents. I do hope to see you both very soon." She reached forward and hugged the woman who had been her companion. "Thank you for your pleasant company. You made an otherwise tedious voyage bearable."
Mrs. Wickett smiled with pleasure and then looked doubtful. "Are you sure you'll be all right if we leave? We could come in for just a moment."
Already the native driver was unloading Mallory's trunk under the guidance of Sergeant Wickett.
"Don't worry about me," she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. She climbed down from the cart. "Good-bye, Mrs. Wickett."
Ser
geant Wickett was giving instructions to the driver, who opened the gate and placed Mallory's trunk inside the compound.
"Take care of yourself, m'lady," Sergeant Wickett said. "My wife is most fond of you."
"Thank you for everything, Sergeant. I shan't forget either of you."
When she heard the cart move away, Mallory stood undecided inside the high compound walls. Down a curved pathway, she saw the residence. She took her courage in hand and moved toward the imposing front doors.
A servant wearing an immaculate white robe opened the door to Mallory. He spoke to her in English. "May I help you, Madame?" he inquired with a smile.
"I'm Lord Tyler's daughter. I believe my father and mother are expecting me."
The servant looked puzzled for a moment. "If his lordship and her ladyship were expecting you, they failed to inform me, my lady."
Mallory was tired, hot, and thirsty and she had no desire to stand at the door conversing with the man. "What's your name?" she asked pointedly.
He smiled broadly. "I am called Safwat, my lady."
"Well, Safwat, take me to my father at once."
He stood aside and allowed her to enter. "I am sorry, my lady, but his lordship and her ladyship are not at home. Further, my lady, they are not even in Cairo."
She stood in an arched hallway with mosaic walls, feeling no kinship with her new surroundings, and wanting to cry. "Where are they?"
"I only know they took ship down the Nile. They did not inform me of when they would be returning or where they were going." He cast her a sympathetic glance. "I am sure they would not have gone had they known you were arriving."
She glanced on the hall table and saw a stack of letters. Rifling through them, she found one from Cousin Phoebe unopened. This was not the welcome she'd envisioned. Her heart ached and she felt yet another rejection. But her mother and father had not known that she was coming when they left. That at least was a comfort.
"I am very weary," she told the servant. "Have you a room for me?"
He bowed respectfully. "I am most happy to meet his lordship's and her ladyship's honored daughter, and I will be most happy to serve you. My good wife will show you to your room, and I shall see to your belongings."
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