“Lord Ravensdale, let me assure you this is not a jest.” She appeared to steel herself. “I am deeply concerned about you. This is the reason I came.”
Even better. “And I relish your concern, Miss Alita.”
Alita continued with some trepidation. “I saw you on the battlefield at Tel-el-Kebir.”
He felt as if his heart had turned to ice in his chest and a dagger run through it. Shooting straight up from the couch, he almost tossed his drink on the table before him, splashing alcohol on the expensive mahogany. Val deliberately bestowed upon her a gaze known to stop grown men in their tracks.
He expected her to run from the room, and at that moment he hoped she would.
13
A Charged Meeting
Deception of any type is abhorrent to me.
Under the strength of his gaze Miss Stanton involuntarily covered her mouth with her hands.
But she did not flee. To Val’s surprise, she remained intently focused on him despite her obvious fright.
His mind raced through the possibilities as he considered that Alita Stanton could have learned of his participation in the battle of Tel-el-Kebir if she had researched her quarry, and she had unquestionably done so.
But this turn of events surprised him. He did not find it an amusing tactic.
“Miss Stanton, might I say that introducing war into your conversation is tasteless.”
“I don’t understand, my lord.”
“Then let me enlighten you, Miss Stanton. War is not a gay interlude or a whimsical farce for one’s entertainment, particularly not for boudoir games.”
“Certainly not, my lord! I merely said I saw you on the field of Tel-el-Kebir. How you could have supposed…”
“I was there,” he stated succinctly, placing himself very close to her.
“As I said,” she continued, her voice uneven as she attempted to shrink into her chair. “You were the Black Panther. You killed many. You killed an Egyptian, a friend, someone you knew, with children.” Pain washed across her face. “You have since visited these children, trying as best you can to be a father to them.”
“Miss Stanton, what are you playing at?” Val punched his fist into the air. That was too much, bringing Banafrit’s children into it. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up, drawing her close. “I warn you, I am no longer amused.”
She gasped for air, her voice barely audible. “It didn’t appear you ever were.”
Through gritted teeth he demanded, “Who told you these things? You will tell me before you depart, which will be very soon, I might add.”
She was trembling now. Alita Stanton had best find her tongue and explain herself, or she would see worse.
“You could kill no more, and guilt about your loyalty plagues you,” she whispered, barely able to find her voice. To his surprise, she continued speaking, despite her rising pitch and shaking hands. “In short, you have no idea who you are anymore.”
Val’s head was spinning. He released her shoulders but kept his eyes glued to her. She sank back down onto the leather couch, grabbing the armrest, her hands sliding along the leather. He spun around to face her. Despite his strong emotions, Val’s military training had taught him to immediately assess every situation from a tactical viewpoint, a strategy that had saved his life more than once. Analysis was now second nature to him, even when he might wish his opponent in Hades.
How had Alita Stanton come by this information? And, more importantly, what did she hope to gain from this ploy?
Possibly one of his countrymen might have observed his anguish on the battlefield of Tel-el-Kebir, but to follow him to the home of the orphans he created without his noticing? Unlikely.
Still…possible. He gazed upon a countenance so unnaturally sweet, so sincere, that his conviction of her guilt grew.
Could one of the infantry have pieced this together and sold the information to a merchant’s daughter? Out of ill will? He didn’t think so. True, his views were unpopular, but he was highly revered for his courage in the rescue and defense of his men.
Or possibly the information was sold for material gain? Most of the infantry had very little money, and there were not many opportunities in Egypt to pick up spare change. There would be an element of shame associated with the transaction—and therefore secrecy—so it would take time and determination to uncover the offender.
I have both.
Val explored the possibilities in his mind while studying her unwavering demeanor. He was inclined to dismiss the idea that she was a tool for someone who disliked him.
He suspected Alita Stanton had her own private motives. Insight into his private life might be a misguided attempt at seeking matrimony to a title. In a world in which men had all the power and ran the show, the stakes were high on the marriage mart.
“Miss Stanton, our discussion is at a close.” Furious at her strategy, he determined to extract the truth from her. “Let us complete our business. Why have you come? Have you been hired to torment me by someone who disapproves of me?” He kept his eyes glued to her. He would not give her any reprieve until she confessed.
“No! Of course not. Who would…?” Her mouth dropped in surprise.
“Or is greed the motive?” he demanded.
“Certainly not. I do not need your money,” she replied, indignant. “And, if I did, I would not stoop so low as to profit from someone else’s misery.”
“If your reason for this charade is not monetary, is it then personal?”
“P–personal? Why, yes, I mean, no, but everything I am saying is completely true, my lord. It is no charade.”
“I assure you, Miss Stanton, I have been to hell and back, and there is nothing you can do to me. Even so, I greatly resent both the attempt and the intrusion into my private affairs.”
“You misunderstand me, my lord. I mean you no harm. I only wish to help you and others whose lives you have within your power to save.”
“Why are you here, Miss Stanton?” he demanded.
Although her hands shook and her large eyes grew even wider, there was warmth in her gaze, which remained fixated on him. “I have come because I have seen who you are.”
Val was stunned. He could see clearly she was shaking from fright, and yet she would not relent from continuing with this bizarre course. “Explain yourself, Miss Stanton,” he commanded.
He remembered with what comfort and finesse she had left her maid in the antechamber. Clearly, this was not her first private meeting.
Val did not think her goal was marriage, which was handled quite differently. For the time being, it was necessary to play along in order to learn the nature of her ploy.
“The dream I spoke of…”
“Stop speaking in riddles, Miss Stanton. We are accomplishing nothing with this tactic.”
“You are correct, Lord Ravensdale.” She sighed heavily. “Absolutely nothing.”
And then he started to laugh. This had to be the oddest encounter of his life and yet the most intoxicating.
In an instant his anger subsided. Miss Alita Stanton posed no threat. If her object was matrimony or wealth, she would be sorely disappointed. If her purpose was to discredit him, that was likewise an impossibility. Sir Evelyn, the highest law in the land, knew his views quite clearly and had not yet deported him.
True, it was an outcome Val viewed with indifference, but the point was there was nothing this merchant’s daughter could do to him.
As disgusted as he was with her tactics, his military mind was trained to evaluate the degree of her influence and her probable success. She had nothing to say to anything which affected him.
The light hit her golden curls, a wisp of curl resting on her luminescent cheek.
Nothing whatsoever.
“I speak the truth,” she replied indignantly, the first expression of annoyance crossing her syrupy-sweet demeanor. “I have a gift. Or a curse, depending on how one looks at it.”
“You can see into the fut
ure with your dreams?” he asked as coolly as he could muster, considering that roaring laughter might suppress her honesty.
Are you crazy, man? As if a liar and a charlatan could ever be induced to tell the truth. If he kept her talking, she only revealed more lies. If he quieted her, she would keep her fabrications to herself. There was zero honesty in either course.
And yet, something about being in the presence of this siren—this Jezebel—felt more authentic than any encounter he had ever had.
“Not usually. No, never. I have never seen the future before…”
“Before what?”
“Before I encountered you.”
He bit his lip so as not to smile. “You can see into the future with me only?”
The pain began to make him grimace. Good.
“I am not wrong where you are concerned. I have never been more sure of anything. Please believe me, my lord, your abilities are extensive.”
He moved to pour another sherry and returned to sit next to her.
My abilities. Everything was a double entendre with this one, so expert was she at the language of seduction. Never before had he felt himself to be such a novice in the company of a woman.
She leaned toward him, which caused him to catch his breath for an instant, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and honeysuckle, sweet and exotic, confusing and heavenly. “You have a path, my lord. A great path.”
“Miss Stanton, if you wish to continue our conversation, you will not discuss Tel-el-Kebir again.” He stretched his legs out in front of him while fixing his gaze on her. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Indeed you do, Lord Ravensdale.” Her expression was unreadable. “The relevant point is that your past experiences keep you locked in a circular realm of torment and misdirection. These memories and the associated sadness prevent you from knowing your possibilities. But I have seen it. If you will follow your path, you have a great destiny.”
“A great destiny.” Val laughed out loud, unable to contain himself any longer. Suddenly he had no desire to stop laughing. It had been so long.
“This is no farce, my lord, I assure you. I speak the truth.”
Studying her as he savored his sherry, a new explanation presented itself. Val had to consider the possibility that she was as crazy as a loon. She had in her possession a strange mix of facts and absolute nonsense.
He still believed Miss Stanton’s intent to be a romantic tryst. She was too exquisite and her manner too forward and practiced to be anything else. It was the only conclusion that made sense in an encounter which was mostly senseless.
Alita Stanton disturbed him. Though it was common for young ladies to research their quarry in advance, Miss Stanton’s methods were unusual, and not entirely to his taste, but probably utilized to bestow upon her a certain mysterious air. A signature persona, so to speak.
He attempted to return his thoughts to the matter at hand. He would bet on his first instincts. She was looking for some entertainment far from home. It was probably just that simple. Unwillingly, his lips formed a half smile.
I hate to disappoint a lady.
“I see.” He was intrigued to hear the entire story before he said good-bye to Miss Alita Stanton forever. “My destiny, as you put it. And what might that be, Miss Stanton?”
“I’m not certain. I had a vision which I have yet to interpret. I have only just met you, you see.”
“Let us start with the vision then, why don’t we?” he proposed, wondering if he was mad.
“I can tell you what I saw.”
“Do tell.”
“I saw cool, soothing water running through the sky.” She took a deep breath. Her utterances began unevenly, but her words gradually gained momentum. “I saw tongues over your head and people of different nationalities bowing to each other in a sign of friendship and trust. I don’t know the significance of the tongues.”
I have an idea.
“But I know you are a peace-maker of some type—a person of great influence,” she added. “It always requires a person capable of great power to bring peace.”
“Great power? Here before you is the least powerful man in Egypt. Miss Stanton, do you honestly entertain the idea that I am gullible enough to fall for such obvious attempts at flattery? I am not an egoist. I can perform my part without your obsequious fawning. I am perfectly willing to engage in your afternoon liaison without your pretty speeches. In fact, I prefer it. This is all utter nonsense.” He brushed his hand against hers and felt an immediate charge.
“Liaison? Surely you don’t…” She stood, backing up until she bumped into the plum velvet wingback chair.
“Miss Stanton, please return to sit beside me.”
“You misunderstand me entirely, Lord Ravensdale.”
“Let us be done with this smoke and mirrors then,” he implored. He had been quick to anger but just as quick to dismiss it. “Explain it to me.”
“Please, Miss Stanton, continue,” he begged resignedly. It was her flirtation, and it appeared it was important to her to act out all the parts, placing the pieces of the puzzle in strategic, alluring places before she proceeded to the next step. It was an elaborate and ingenious web she wove, and full of surprises. As much as he hated to admit it, he found the entire scenario extremely…stimulating.
“Of course, my lord.” She swallowed. “In the further interest of your vocation, I feel compelled to say you shouldn’t stay here. There is little point.” She looked around, motioning to the office with her hands. She focused on the painting of Lord Cromer hanging on the wall, one of the world’s most powerful imperialist leaders, portrayed in the painting as unassuming, warm, studious. Altogether an everyday fellow.
“Shouldn’t stay here? In this room? I find it quite comfortable.”
“In Egypt. The person who works here” she motioned to the painting “makes a show of wishing to turn over running the country to the Egyptians. However, he has no intention of doing so.”
Val almost dropped his jaw. This was his sense as well. The British consul acted as if he were working to bring about the self-governing of the Egyptians, but Val didn’t believe Sir Evelyn had any intention of making that dream a reality.
How could she know this?
“He has done a good job—a necessary job—of repairing the damage done by the former ruler of Egypt and toward eventually restoring Egypt to its rightful place as a world power. But he has no intention of giving up his position.” Her expression was pensive. “Britain will be here for many years to come. Your work is beneficial, but it is not consistent with your values nor your goals for Egypt.”
Again, how could she know? There was a snitch among them, and Val resigned to find out who the bastard was.
“You said you can see into the future, Miss Stanton. How long will Britain run Egypt?” he asked as if he were making idle conversation, leaning back into the couch and stretching his legs out before him.
“The future?” She gulped. “I…I never thought of it in that fashion…” She appeared quite uneasy, as if she had suddenly lost the ability she pretended to have. And then she seemed to regain her composure, in line with the excellent actress she was.
She pondered for a moment, looking straight ahead as she opened her hands in her lap. “The British occupancy will last something over sixty years. A great leader, an Egyptian, will rise up out of the peasantry and claim back the country for Egyptians.”
“Sixty years?” Val nodded his head, as if he were contemplating a profound statement. He turned toward her, striving to maintain his most solemn expression. “Britain will occupy Egypt for sixty years?”
“Yes.” Alita nodded.
“You astonish me, Miss Stanton. And how will this coup d’état be accomplished?” He could not have taken his eyes off her had he wanted to. In controlled tones he added, “I am most curious to know, Miss Stanton.”
She grew silent for a while as she sat very still, looking so prim and proper seated beside him with no maid in
sight. Her expression was one of surprise as her lips barely moved in a distant voice. “It will occur through a non-violent revolution. The leader I spoke of will execute an ingenious plan that will return the Suez Canal and all of Egypt to Egyptian control in an extraordinary act of statesmanship. Egypt will be reincarnated as Her former self.” Alita nodded slowly, her expression serene. “Rising from the tombs, so to speak.”
“Miss Stanton, you actually expect me to believe England will hand over a valuable, money-making enterprise—not to mention an important military strategic point—without a bloody war?” He was unable to suppress his laughter despite his best efforts. Now he knew she was crazy.
“I don’t pretend to understand it, but it will be as I have said,” she stated solemnly. “But the time is not now.”
“No doubt.”
“And you are not that leader, I am sorry to say.”
“Think nothing of it,” his lordship uttered graciously.
“But you may lay the groundwork for his success. Please believe me, Lord Ravensdale, your talents are extensive. There is a plan for you. A destiny of magnificent proportions, if you will.” She placed her hands primly in her lap. “This is not where your path lies.”
“And what do you propose, Miss Stanton?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Return to England,” she stated definitively. “There is a position there for you. Something…to do with other countries.”
Val sighed heavily.
So that’s it. He was disappointed to learn of her duplicity, but at least he was beginning to unravel the puzzle.
Miss Stanton wants me to leave Egypt. And she had the poor taste to appeal to his grief over taking Egyptian lives in order to achieve this end.
But why? Had someone hired her? If Sir Evelyn had wanted him to leave, he would have simply dismissed—or, more likely, reassigned—him.
There wasn’t anyone else who might wish Captain Lord Ravensdale’s return to the Land of the Rose. For all practical intents and purposes, the sad truth was there was no one in particular, outside of a few school chums, who wished him back in England. His family certainly didn’t want him to return as he would unquestionably place further limits on their purse strings and look into their affairs.
The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic (Daughters of the Empire Book 1) Page 14