Sterling stepped forward. “If you don’t mind, I have a few items to discuss with my mother regarding our move from the hotel. Why don’t you and the others go ahead, and we shall join you in a minute or two.”
“Of course.” Sir Lawrence smiled reluctantly at Sterling’s mother, then turned to Livy and offered his arm. “Shall we, my dear?”
Livy cast him her brightest smile and took his arm. “I’ve never seen an Egyptian garden.”
“You’ll find it an interesting blend of native flora as well as plants brought here by Europeans.” They started for the door, and the older man glanced back. “Are you coming, Mr. Cadwallender?”
“Yes, of course,” the solicitor murmured, and trailed after them.
“I suspect, Lady Rathbourne, you may be quite surprised at some of what I have here.” They stepped through the door, the older man’s voice fading with each step. “Did you know the ancient Egyptians were especially fond of roses? They say that . . .”
Sterling turned and glared at his mother. “Well?”
“Well, isn’t this the most wonderful coincidence.” She beamed. “But you should have told me that Sir Lawrence is the gentleman we were coming to see.”
“I thought I had.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said firmly. “Although this is a lovely turn of events as I had planned on calling on him while were here.”
“You had planned . . .” He sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s why you wanted to come to Cairo!”
“Not entirely,” she murmured.
“I demand to know what your involvement is with this man!”
She raised a brow. “I do not take well to demands from my son. Particularly not in that tone of voice.”
“My apologies, Mother. You’re right, of course.” He drew a steadying breath. “Now, would you be so kind as to explain your . . . your relationship with Sir Lawrence.”
“There really is no relationship as of yet.” She shrugged. “Sir Lawrence is simply a very old friend of mine and your father’s.”
“He seems considerably more than a mere friend to me.”
She ignored him. “I met Lawrence about the same time I met your father. They were very good friends then but drifted apart. The passage of time will do that you know.”
“Go on.”
“Patience, Sterling, I am going on.” She sighed. “After your father and I married, he was often a guest in our home. A welcome guest I might add.”
“And?”
“And you might say we carried on something of a flirtation through the years.”
Sterling gasped. “A flirtation?”
“You needn’t look so appalled.” She cast her son a chastising glance. “Surely you don’t think anything untoward occurred between us?”
“The thought had occurred to me,” he snapped. “Given the last few minutes.”
“If you were younger and shorter, I would box your ears for even suggesting such a thing.” She sniffed in indignation. “If not for your father, who thoroughly owned my heart, I might well have married Lawrence. But from the moment I met your father, there has never been another man in my life or in my affections.”
“You just said you carried on a flirtation—”
“And that is all it ever was,” she said firmly. “The man has never done more than kiss my hand. Nor would I have allowed him to do so in the past.” She paused. “Now, however . . .”
“Mother!”
“I should very much like to see what might transpire between us now.”
Sterling groaned. “I cannot believe this.”
“Why?” She frowned and studied him. “Because I am too old to have such thoughts?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Not at all. I simply meant . . . well, you’re my mother.”
“Indeed I am.” She nodded. “But you are grown, as are Quinton and Nathanial, and Reggie will have her own family one day soon no doubt. I would prefer not to spend the rest of my life alone.”
“What about Father?”
“Your father is dead, and, while I would give anything to still have him with us, that is a fact that cannot be changed. And he would wish me to be happy.”
“But you are happy.”
“In many ways, yes. I am content I would say. For the most part.” She paused. “When one has shared a great love, as I did with your father, and it is taken away, one cannot help but long to share that again.”
Sterling widened his eyes. “You are in love with Sir Lawrence?”
“Good Lord, Sterling.” Mother laughed. “You do jump to the most absurd conclusions. Might I remind you he and I have not seen each other for twenty-three years.”
“But you just said—”
“I wish you would stop reminding me of what I have just said.” She huffed. “I said I would like to know love again. Whether that is to be found with Lawrence remains to be seen.” She grinned in an altogether-too-wicked manner for anyone’s mother, let alone his. “But I should like to find out.”
He winced. “Dear God.”
“Sterling.” Her voice sobered. “Your father has been dead for ten years. Ten years is a very long time to be alone.” She pinned him with a firm look. “You of all people should understand that.”
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose I do.”
“Then allow me to have my flirtation, preferably without your glaring at me as if I were doing something terribly wrong.”
He blew a long breath. “Very well.”
“And if something more comes of it . . .” She met his gaze directly. “I expect you to respect my decisions.”
“I shall . . . try.”
“You shall do more than try.”
“I shall try,” he said again. “Trying is all anyone can do.”
“And I do hate it when you throw my own words back at me. You are a very stubborn man and very much like your father.” She sighed. “But that will have to do for the moment, I suppose. Now, shall we join the others in the garden?”
He forced a smile. She took his arm, and they started toward the door. “Besides, it seems to me you should spend less time concerned with my intentions and more concerned with your own.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Why, your efforts to win Olivia back of course.” She smiled. “Apparently you have a rival.”
“Josiah?” He scoffed. “He thinks so.”
She chuckled. “It might be wise not to be overly confident.”
“In truth, Mother, I am not as confident as I am hopeful.” He grinned. “And optimistic.”
“Patience, Sterling. Patience is a virtue. All things come to him who waits you know.”
“I am trying, Mother.” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “But it is one virtue I have never possessed, and I have waited a very long time.”
“As have we all, darling.” She patted his arm. “As have we all.”
Patience, Sterling gritted his teeth, and said it to himself again for the tenth or perhaps the hundredth time since their arrival at Sir Lawrence’s home yesterday.
Not that Sir Lawrence wasn’t indeed a gracious host. In spite of himself, Sterling had enjoyed last night’s dinner. The food, a mix of Egyptian and European dishes, had been excellent and the conversation around the table lively. Both Olivia and his mother had been in high spirits; Josiah had been more talkative than usual; and Sir Lawrence proved to be both informative and interesting. In many ways, he reminded Sterling of his father. It was most disconcerting.
The rooms they’d been provided were spacious and well-appointed. While primarily European in style, there were influences throughout the house of that part of the world outside the front gates. Lanterns of brass and brightly colored glass hung from the ceilings. Rugs from local craftsmen covered the floors. Small ancient figurines were displayed in niches.
They had spent much of the day seeing the sights of Cairo, including the mosque of Sultan Hassan, said to be one of the largest buildings o
f its kind in the world and built in part with stones from the Great Pyramid. That, of course, had prompted his mother to bring up yet again the matter of seeing the pyramids. As they could be reached with a drive of less than two hours, wouldn’t it be a shame to have come all this way and not see them? Sterling had pointed out even from Cairo they could already be seen far off in the distance, and as time was an issue . . . Regardless, Sir Lawrence had then offered to arrange an excursion for tomorrow, delighting the other members of his party but adding yet another day to their stay.
Still, Olivia had pointed out that the more Sir Lawrence enjoyed their company, the more likely he would be to relinquish the jar. And wasn’t that, after all, the purpose of their trip?
The ladies were resting after the exertion of the long hot day, and Josiah had wandered off to a bazaar to purchase gifts for his family. Sterling sat at a table in the courtyard with a glass of lemonade, one of Sir Lawrence’s excellent cigars, and his own thoughts.
“You should keep an eye open for snakes,” Sir Lawrence said behind him.
Sterling jumped to his feet. “Where?”
“None that I see at the moment.” Sir Lawrence settled in the chair opposite Sterling’s and selected a cigar from the box on the table. “But we have them in the garden.”
Sterling cast a suspicious look at the lush foliage bordering the courtyard, then cautiously sat back down. “I shall keep my eyes open.”
Sir Lawrence raised a brow. “Dislike snakes, do we?”
“I’m not especially fond of them.” Sterling shrugged in an offhand manner.
“One gets used to them. There are more than twenty species of snakes in Egypt. The bites of any of them are dangerous, but only three or so will actually kill you.”
“Good to know,” Sterling muttered.
“I keep a pistol by the side of my bed just in case one wanders into my room unannounced.” He paused. “Besides, this area has been plagued of late by intruders. Thieves in the night looking for jewels or artifacts, small items that can be quickly sold. They are far more dangerous than snakes and usually armed with daggers, sharp and deadly. They can slit a man’s throat before he can so much as cry out.”
“I see.” At once the thought of how close Livy came to serious injury when intruders invaded her house sprang to mind. Surely she was safe here. Still, one should be prepared.
“I’ve shot at more than one intruder in this house in recent months. Frowned on by the local authorities.” He trimmed his cigar. “I don’t think I hit anyone, but I can’t be sure. Between snakes and thieves, it’s a bloody good idea to have a pistol by the bed.”
“No doubt,” Sterling said coolly. Indeed, it sounded like an excellent idea. Especially for the snakes.
“There will be one in the drawer in the table by your bed tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t think . . .” Sterling paused, then nodded. “That would be most appreciated.”
Sir Lawrence lit his cigar and puffed on it thoughtfully. “I have a proposition for you, my boy.”
“Oh?”
Sir Lawrence nodded. “I have been giving Lady Rathbourne’s predicament a great deal of consideration. Helped by your mother.” He chuckled. “She can be very persuasive.”
“She always has been.”
“And persistent.”
Sterling smiled wryly. “You’ve noticed that.”
“Hard to miss.” He puffed on his cigar. “I have come to a decision.”
“Excellent.” Sterling leaned forward. “Then you will trade us the jar for the mummy?”
Sir Lawrence shook his head. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean by ‘not exactly’?”
“Oh, I’ll take your mummy. After all, you have no use for it.”
Sterling settled back in his chair and puffed on his cigar. “True enough.”
“But you have something far more valuable to trade.”
“And that would be . . .” Sterling said slowly.
“I have been talking to your mother.”
Indeed, it seemed to Sterling that Sir Lawrence had barely left her side since their arrival. “And?”
“And I know you are eager to return home.”
“I am.” Obviously Sterling was one topic of their conversation.
“I know as well that you weren’t eager to come to Egypt at all.”
“No, I was not.” With any luck, his mother talked about his brothers or anything other than Sterling.
“And I further know that you would like nothing better than to continue this journey with Lady Rathbourne without the charming yet intrusive presence of your mother.”
Sterling arched a brow. “Did she tell you that as well?”
“Some things are obvious.” The older man gestured with his cigar. “The way you look at her. The way young Cadwallender looks at her. The way she looks at you.”
“How does she look at me?”
Sir Lawrence chuckled. “If you don’t know, you’re not as clever as your mother says.”
Sterling forced a smile. “You were saying?”
“I was saying that I could arrange for you and Lady Rathbourne to leave Egypt with the jar. If you would encourage . . .” He tapped his ashes into a saucer. “Your mother to remain here.”
Sterling narrowed his eyes. “I shall not barter my mother for a mere artifact.”
“Nonsense, boy. It’s not as if you’re selling her into a harem. And you’re not bartering her for a mere artifact.” He leaned forward. “All I ask is that you help me convince her to stay in Egypt for a time. A few weeks, possibly months, if I am very lucky. A minor thing really that would enable you to help Lady Rathbourne achieve her purpose.” He settled back in his chair. “Seems little enough for you to do to me.”
“I have already done a great deal.” Indignation rang in Sterling’s voice.
“Not according to your mother.”
“What more does she think I could have done?” He rose to his feet and paced the courtyard. “Olivia insisted on going to Egypt, and here I am in Egypt. She doesn’t want to talk about the past, so I don’t talk about the past. She wants friendship, so I have done everything possible to be the best friend anyone could ever have. I have been more than pleasant. I have made an effort to enjoy every moment of this never-ending adventure. And I have done everything in my power to be anything other than staid, stodgy, and dull!”
Sit Lawrence gazed at him in silence and puffed his cigar. “So you will encourage your mother to stay here?”
Sterling glared. “I will do nothing of the sort.”
Sir Lawrence shrugged. “I should tell you, I have already asked her to stay.”
“And?”
“And she is considering it which is why I need someone, ideally you, but I suspect Lady Rathbourne might do as well, to help me convince her.”
“Aside from acquiring the jar for Olivia, why on earth would I wish to do that?”
“Because you are a good son who loves his mother,” Sir Lawrence said idly. “And because I can make her happy.”
“She is happy,” Sterling said in a staunch manner, ignoring that she had explained only yesterday that she wasn’t especially happy but merely content.
The older man shrugged.
Sterling clenched his jaw. “Do you intend to marry her?”
Sir Lawrence’s gaze met Sterling’s. “If she will have me.”
“That’s absurd. You haven’t seen her for more than twenty years. You’ve probably changed a great deal through the years, and I know she has. Why, you can’t possibly be the same people you once were.”
“No, we’re not.” Sir Lawrence drew on his cigar and gazed into the past. “A very long time ago, a young man met a lovely lady who captured his heart although he was too stupid to realize it at the time. The lady then fell in love and married his best friend, and the young man went off to hunt for treasures and artifacts and immerse himself in the remains of kings and queens and lovely ladies and foolish young men
who had long ago turned to dust.” He glanced at Sterling. “Do you understand?”
Sterling sank back down in his chair. He chose his words with care. “May I ask why you didn’t call on her after my father died?”
Sir Lawrence considered the question for a long moment. “It seemed somehow a betrayal of your father to do so. He was my friend, after all, and I had always felt somewhat guilty for feeling the way I did about his wife.” His gaze met Sterling’s directly. “Although I never acted on my feelings, never declared myself, and never let either your mother or your father know. I would never have done that to Charles; nor would I ever have embroiled Millicent in an awkward situation.
“But the moment I saw her again . . .” He smiled. “I should never have waited this long. But I have been given a second chance. An opportunity to atone for the greatest mistake of my life. Can you understand that?”
“Atoning for one’s mistake?” Sterling nodded. “Yes, I can well understand.”
“I should warn you as well. Should Millicent decide not to stay here, I fully intend to follow her back to England.” The older man’s tone hardened. “I will not lose her again.”
Sterling studied him for a long moment. Would that Sterling had someone to help him regain Livy’s affections. He blew a resigned breath. “Very well then, I will speak to her.”
“Excellent.” Sir Lawrence snuffed out his cigar and stood. “I have arrangements to make for this evening. I have invited a few people I thought your mother might like to meet to join us tonight. We shall have dinner followed by an evening of traditional entertainment. Native dancers and . . .” an altogether-wicked look gleamed in his eye, “a snake charmer.”
“I look forward to it,” Sterling said with a weak smile, knowing full well that, even with a pistol by his side, he would get no sleep in this house tonight.
Thirteen
Walk in the shadows of the gods.
From the secret list of desires of Olivia Rathbourne
“How lovely,” Olivia murmured, watching the brightly colored troupe of dancers in the courtyard of Sir Lawrence’s home.
Desires of a Perfect Lady Page 16