WHAT IN THE name of all that was holy had come over him?
It was a kiss. A fully clothed kiss at that and nothing more than the brilliant solution to an unexpected dilemma, even if perhaps it wasn’t entirely necessary. Regardless, it was of no real significance whatsoever. Why, he had kissed any number of women. And most under circumstances far more intimate than tonight’s. Even so, the feel of her in his arms, her body pressed against his, her lips responding first with demure hesitation then with rapt abandon, refused to leave his head. No, he might as well admit it. It was more than a kiss, more than a spur of the moment ploy to prevent discovery. He wasn’t sure exactly what but definitely more. And hadn’t he been wanting to kiss her for some time?
Harry accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and lingered near the doorway, watching Sidney across the room. The moment they returned to the ballroom she joined the other ladies at Mr. Wallace’s table. Judging from the look on the portly American’s face when he stood and took her hand, he too had probably read her blasted book. Surely Wallace’s attention had more to do with his admiration of her work than the fact that—in spite of her efforts—she looked the tiniest bit tousled and eminently desirable. The idea that Wallace might be interested in something other than her writing was extremely annoying. When she’d accused Harry of being jealous of Nazzal and he’d admitted it, he hadn’t really meant it. Or perhaps he had. He had no idea what he was thinking anymore. This awkward business of liking a woman was proving to be most confusing.
“She’s really quite remarkable, don’t you think?” Lady Blodgett appeared at Harry’s side.
He glanced at her in surprise. “I didn’t realize you had left the others.”
“You’re not very observant, then, are you?”
He chuckled. “Apparently not.”
She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”
“Luck, Lady Blodgett.” He sipped his drink. “I will take luck over skill any day.”
“Luck frequently runs out, young man.”
“It hasn’t yet.” He paused. “At least not for me.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“About Mrs. Gordon?” His gaze shifted back to Sidney. “Yes, I do think she’s remarkable.”
“Did you and she take care of your little errand?” she asked in an offhand manner, as if inquiring about nothing more important than fetching a forgotten item from her room. Apparently Sidney wasn’t the only one with a touch of larceny in her soul.
“We did.”
“And it was successful?”
“It was.”
Bloody hell. He’d completely forgotten that Sidney still had the medallion. Although no one knew that but him. And even when Wallace discovered the artifact was missing, he would not sound an alarm. A man in possession of stolen goods rarely made a public outcry when they went missing. There was nothing to connect Sidney, or Harry either for that matter, to the relic. The maid had seen nothing but two entwined figures covered nearly to the tops of their heads. Even so, the longer Sidney and her friends were in Wallace’s company, the greater the chances one of them would unintentionally say something. He was not overly confident in their ability to keep quiet. “Perhaps it would be prudent if you and the others bid Mr. Wallace a good evening.”
“I was thinking exactly the same thing.” She slanted him a curious look. “You can trust us, you know. We are far cleverer than we may appear.”
“I have absolutely no doubt of that, my lady.”
“It is, however, when engaged in any sort of subterfuge, wise to err on the side of caution.”
“Exactly, Lady Blodgett.” He doubted the ladies ever engaged in any sort of subterfuge whatsoever unless, of course, one included their assistance with Sidney’s own deception. And, while they might not realize it, they hadn’t been entirely successful with that. He stifled a smile.
“Age does not denote stupidity, Harry. Unless, of course, one was stupid in one’s younger days. I assure you neither Effie nor Poppy nor I was stupid in our youth.”
“I never—”
“Furthermore, we were all married to men who were hardly ever present. They were off exploring the unknown or, in Effie’s case, serving the Crown. They had grand adventures and epic exploits and, we privately suspected, a great deal of fun.” She pinned him with a firm look. “Do you know what happens to women who marry such men?”
“I’ve never thought about it,” he said cautiously.
“Which indicates you never seriously entertained the thought of marriage with any particular woman. Good to know.” Before he could ask why she nodded and continued. “Women who marry men of adventure either become helpless, delicate flowers who can barely take care of themselves or they become independent and self-reliant.” She paused. “There isn’t one among the three of us who wouldn’t have done very nearly anything if it had meant our husbands would be home to build a life with us. But, as that was not to be, we became the women we are now. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He stared in confusion. “I’m afraid not.”
She sighed. “We have always done what needed to be done. On our own or with our friends. In some cases, we did so to set things right. In others, because it was the right thing to do. Or because someone needed our assistance, even if they might not have realized it at the time. And now that we are in the inevitable final period of our lives, when we are no longer troubled by the bothersome rules of propriety or even laws, we still do what we believe is necessary. For the greater good, a noble cause if you will, of course, not merely for fun.”
“I see,” he lied.
“No you don’t but it is sweet of you to say.” Her gaze turned back to Sidney and the others. “I should gather my little flock and be off.”
“Good evening, then. Sleep well.”
“Oh, we have no intention of retiring.” She scoffed. “It’s not yet ten o’clock and we are on holiday. Although I daresay we will be in our rooms before midnight. But I met a lovely group of travelers this afternoon, here on a tour. Not, unfortunately, a Lady Travelers tour but a Thomas Cook excursion. Those people are everywhere you know.”
“There are a lot of tourists in Egypt.”
“I’ve even run into a few people from London right here in the hotel who know people I know. I must say I did not expect that.” She shook her head. “Many of those from the Cook’s tour have read either Sidney’s book or her stories in the Messenger and are eager to meet her. They did not dine at the hotel tonight but we arranged to gather here in the small dining room shortly after ten. That charming Mr. Chalmers arranged it for us. Wasn’t that thoughtful of him?”
“Mr. Chalmers is nothing if not thoughtful.”
“It provides the perfect excuse for bidding good evening to Mr. Wallace.” She smiled in a smug manner.
“Brilliant, Lady Blodgett.” He grinned. “You and your friends never fail to amaze me.”
“What a lovely thing to say, Harry.” She took a step toward Sidney’s table then paused. “But I much prefer devious to brilliant.” She cast him a sly smile and took her leave.
Harry was still chuckling when she reached the others. Their ploy appeared to work perfectly and within a few minutes the older ladies and Sidney had excused themselves and left the ballroom. Perhaps devious was indeed the right word.
He toyed with the idea of retiring for the evening himself but knew he wouldn’t get a moment’s rest as long as the medallion was in Sidney’s possession. Not that he was concerned that she might be in any kind of danger. Still, as Lady Blodgett pointed out, it was best to err on the side of caution. Besides, it did seem to him the successful conclusion of their adventure called for a celebration. What better way to celebrate than with champagne? The woman did like champagne. Why not bring a bottle to her room? He could bring his writing for her to peruse later as well. Not that he wanted to but it would be cowardly to flee from her opinion.
And should a shared bottle lead to something more... She was a widow, after all, and had quite enthusiastically returned his kiss. He had no intention of seducing her but if one thing were to lead to another...
A few minutes after midnight, he knocked softly on her door, champagne and glasses in one hand, his writing tucked under his arm. He’d never been the least bit nervous about an assignation before but this was different. This was Sidney. The woman who had outraged him with her less-than-accurate writing, even if her actions tonight were very much like something the character in her stories might do. The woman who had brought him back to Egypt. The woman who might possibly be working her way into his heart. No woman had done that, ever. He had thought no woman ever could.
He knocked again, louder. No doubt she was already fast asleep. Even he was feeling the tiring effects of the long day. As much as he wanted to pound on her door, that would awaken any number of other guests. He had no desire to encounter Wallace in the hall or anyone else. There was as well the slim possibility that he had completely misunderstood Sidney’s response to his kiss. Although he wouldn’t wager on that. He had kissed enough women to know when one shared his desire.
Still he couldn’t quite disregard the idea. Sidney was unlike any woman he’d ever known. He slipped the twenty-odd pages he’d brought with him under her door and started toward his room, his stomach twisting in what? Disappointment? This was certainly not the first time an anticipated liaison had not come to fruition although it had been rare. But what if he was indeed mistaken? What if what he was feeling was not mutual? What was he feeling?
Good God, she’d turned him into some kind of sniveling mass of indecision. A creature mired in confusion and overly concerned with feelings of all things. He’d never been like this with a woman before. No doubt all that effort to behave like a gentleman, like an earl, was to blame. Or possibly the blame could be placed on Sidney. Or even on Egypt. He had no idea. He had never liked unanswered questions. He much preferred knowing where he stood and what exactly was going on but apparently his head was now filled with endless questions and few answers. And feelings!
It was impossible to sleep. He tossed and turned all night when he wasn’t pacing his room and stopped himself more than once from stalking to Sidney’s room and breaking down the door. It was ridiculous, of course. What would he say then? My apologies for shattering your door but I was curious as to your thoughts on whether the kiss we shared was nothing more significant than a pretense to fool the maid or was it perhaps something extremely important? By morning he’d come to the realization that he could hardly demand to know what, if any, feelings she had before he came to terms with his own mind and perhaps his heart.
Sidney was not at breakfast and neither were the other ladies. There was however a note at the desk for him from Mrs. Higginbotham saying they were joining their new friends from the Thomas Cook group for a morning tour of the several of the city’s mosques but they would resume their schedule in the afternoon. As the note did not list which of the hundreds of mosques in Cairo they would be visiting, Harry had no choice but to await their return. It was most annoying. Patience had never been his strongest quality. Regardless of whether or not he knew his own feelings, for good or ill, he wanted to sort this out with Sidney. He ran into Corbin in the lobby who was of no help whatsoever and was in fact rather pleased not to have to trail after the ladies. He intended to spend the morning writing a dispatch on Sidney’s visit to the pyramids. The details of which he had apparently heard from Sidney at tea. Harry made a mental note never to miss tea again.
Harry tried to do a little of his own writing in the writing room off the main hall but his gaze kept straying to the door and he finally accepted that his efforts were futile. Besides, while he hadn’t seemed to have any difficulty in London writing about the adventures he had shared with Ben and Walter, there were apparently too many memories here to write accurately. Blasted feelings kept getting in the way of telling a story properly. And when he wasn’t trying to record the past, he found himself writing silly things about hair the color of spun gold and the caress of a cheek as soft as a rose petal. A rose petal for God’s sake?
Harry finally moved to the terrace, taking a table near the front steps and attempting to read the English edition of the Egyptian Gazette. But his attention wavered with every new arrival. He did note the departure of Mr. Wallace. The man did not look happy. It was shortly after one when the ladies finally returned.
Sidney was not with them.
“Good afternoon, ladies.” Harry met them in front of the entry between the sphinxes. “Where is she?”
The ladies traded confused glances.
“She?” Lady Blodgett asked. “Who?
Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore frowned in confusion. “Which she?”
“What are you talking about, Harry?” Mrs. Higginbotham’s eyes narrowed. “And why do you look so annoyed?”
“Because I am annoyed.” He ushered them to his table and waited until they were seated. “I see Mrs. Gordon is not with you. Did you lose her again?”
Again the ladies exchanged looks.
“You mean she isn’t here? At the hotel?” A worried note sounded in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice.
“She isn’t with you?” A trickle of unease ran up the back of his neck.
Lady Blodgett shook her head. “She didn’t come with us.” She thought for a moment. “We bid her good-night at the lifts, a bit before midnight I think.” She glanced at the other ladies who nodded in agreement. “Then we all retired to our respective rooms.”
“I realize it’s past one but perhaps she overslept,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “She did seem quite tired last night, as we all were.”
“Sidney is usually an early riser,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore murmured what they were all thinking.
“Did you check her room, Harry?” Mrs. Higginbotham asked.
“No,” he said sharply. “I assumed she was with you.”
“Very well, then, I will.” Mrs. Higginbotham stood and strode into the hotel, the very epitome of determination. Woe to anyone who might stand in her way.
“And I will check with the front desk.” Lady Blodgett rose. “If Sidney is not here, perhaps she left a note.” She turned and disappeared into the building.
“I’m certain there’s nothing to worry about.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s words belied the look of concern in her eyes.
“Of course not.” Still, there was a distinct sense of apprehension curling in his stomach. It had been some time since he’d had that horrid, queasy feeling. Unfortunately, it had never been wrong.
Lady Blodgett was the first to return. “There was indeed a note from Sidney saying she was meeting with another group of readers. She added that we shouldn’t worry and she would see us later today.” She paused. “The clerk said it was there this morning so it was probably left last night.”
“Last night?” Harry met Lady Blodgett’s gaze. “Was he sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“Sidney said we shouldn’t worry and I for one do not intend to.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore nodded firmly as if trying to convince herself as much as the others. “If anyone can take care of herself it’s Sidney.”
“Because of all those adventures she’s had in Egypt?” he said in a sharper manner than he had intended.
“Well, yes,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said weakly. “Among other things...”
Other than her vivid imagination, her skill at deception and her delight in larceny, Harry was afraid to ask what those other things were.
Mrs. Higginbotham returned and sat down heavily at the table. “She isn’t in her room and it appears she did not sleep there.”
“What?” Harry stared.
“How could you possibly know that?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore twisted her hands together.
“The gown she wore last night is missing.” Mrs. Higginbotham heaved a deep sigh. “This is all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t be here.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Don’t be absurd.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore ignored him and patted her friend’s hand. “If anyone is to blame...” She turned an accusing eye on Harry.
“I suggest we dispense with pointing fingers for the moment,” Lady Blodgett said calmly. “Sidney is an intelligent woman and we might be making more out of this than it is. There could well be nothing to be concerned about whatsoever. She could return at any moment with a perfectly logical explanation. Harry.” She met Harry’s gaze directly and in spite of her cool demeanor, unease shone in her eyes. “What do you think?”
He hesitated but it seemed pointless to try to hide anything as they probably already knew everything. “Are you aware she has the medallion?”
“We were not,” Lady Blodgett said slowly.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore murmured.
“However, Mr. Wallace was returning to America today.” Mrs. Higginbotham nodded. “So I daresay he is not a concern.”
But who knew how many others were aware of the stolen items. Harry ignored the disquieting thought.
“Harry.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze pinned his. “What are we to do now?”
He drew a deep breath. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice rose. “What do you mean nothing? Surely there’s something we can do.”
“Absolutely not.” His gaze settled on Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore. “The three of you are to stay here in the hotel. I don’t want to lose any of you in addition to Mrs. Gordon.” His gaze shifted to Lady Blodgett. “None of you are familiar with Cairo, none of you speak Arabic and none of you are suited to this kind of search.” He turned to Mrs. Higginbotham. “Mrs. Gordon’s note said not to worry which indicates to me she is not in any sort of trouble and wherever she went she did so willingly. I understand you are not overly fond of me, but I ask you to trust me now. Will you?”
“We really don’t have much choice, do we?” Mrs. Higginbotham huffed. “So yes, I suppose we will trust you.”
“Not a rousing endorsement but I’ll take it. I agree this is probably nothing of any consequence.” From the looks on their faces, it was obvious they didn’t believe him any more than he believed himself. “I assure you, I will locate Mrs. Gordon and we shall all laugh about this later.”
“How?” Lady Blodgett asked. “If you expect us not to do anything, we must know what you intend to do.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded. “It seems to me—”
“Mr. Armstrong, ladies.” Nazzal appeared beside the table and smiled a greeting. Excellent. While he’d told Harry last night he would return today to collect the medallion, Harry’s first thought now was to contact him. If anyone could find a missing Englishwoman in Cairo, Nazzal could. “Might I say how lovely you all look today? Oh, but your numbers are not complete. Where is the delightful Mrs. Gordon?”
The ladies looked at each other. He did hope they were shrewd enough to stay quiet. Gaining Nazzal’s help wasn’t always a simple matter of requesting it. But possession of the artifact did give Harry some leverage at the moment.
“Missing,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore blurted.
Lady Blodgett grimaced. “We don’t know where she is.”
“She’s been gone since last night and we’re quite concerned,” Mrs. Higginbotham added. So much for keeping their mouths shut.
“Is she?” The Egyptian looked at Harry, a dozen questions in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry said. “I was hoping you could be of assistance.”
“I shall do whatever I can.” Nazzal paused. “But first Mr. Armstrong, a private word if you will? In the bar perhaps?”
Harry got to his feet.
“Oh, he doesn’t have your medallion, if that’s what you want,” Mrs. Higginbotham said.
“What?” Nazzal stared.
“Mrs. Higginbotham!” Harry snapped.
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Higginbotham winced. “I wasn’t thinking.” She leaned toward Nazzal and lowered her voice to something she might have intended as a stage whisper. “He doesn’t have your object.”
Harry groaned.
“Oh?” Nazzal’s gaze shot to his. “What does she mean?”
“It’s really a somewhat amusing story,” Harry began.
“You were to notify me at once if you failed to retrieve the—” he glanced at the ladies “—object.”
“Yes, well about that.” Harry grimaced. “I did retrieve the object, I just don’t have it at the moment.”
“Mrs. Gordon has the—” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore paused in a dramatic fashion “—object.”
“How did she get the object.” Nazzal’s brow furrowed. The man looked decidedly confused, but then he was not accustomed to Sidney’s elderly companions. Apparently his last encounter with them did not sufficiently prepare him. Harry suspected he frequently had that same look himself. “And how do any of you know about this?”
“You should sit down, Mr. Nazzal.” Lady Blodgett waved at Harry’s chair beside hers then signaled a waiter for another. “We’ll be happy to explain everything.”
Nazzal cast Harry a dubious glance and sat.
Once they were all settled Lady Blodgett explained how Sidney had learned about the object, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s contribution with her appropriation of the passkey to Wallace’s room, Mrs. Higginbotham’s skills at opening locked doors and their mutual effort to keep the American entertained.
“And while Sidney did tell us she and Harry had been successful, she did not elaborate as to the details,” Lady Blodgett finished and directed an annoyed look at Harry. “And she never mentioned she had the object.”
“How did she come to have the object, Harry?” Mrs. Higginbotham’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, Harry,” Nazzal chimed in. At some point in Lady Blodgett’s explanation—somewhere between Sidney’s hiring of a server to eavesdrop on them and Wallace’s admiration of her work, Nazzal’s annoyance had turned to amusement. “How did Mrs. Gordon come into possession of the object?”
“We were nearly caught by a maid and Mrs. Gordon hid it in her dress,” Harry said simply. He was not about to divulge all the details of their foray.
Mrs. Higginbotham’s brow rose. “That dress was not conducive to the concealment of anything.”
Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore cleared her throat and cast a quick pointed glance down at her bosom.
Mrs. Higginbotham stared, then her expression cleared. “Oh, I see. Quite right.” She nodded. “Excellent place to hide a small object. Always has been.”
Nazzal choked back a laugh.
“What do you find so amusing, Mr. Nazzal?” Lady Blodgett said coolly. “The fact of where Mrs. Gordon hid the object or the fact that we are not embarrassed to mention it?”
“Lady Blodgett.” Nazzal took the older lady’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “I find you and your friends to be most enchanting.”
“Do you?” Lady Blodgett stared for a moment then nodded. “Well, we do try.”
Harry studied him curiously. “You’re not at all worried about this are you?”
“Mrs. Gordon’s absence is a matter of some concern although I doubt it has anything to do with the object. Nor do I think it possible that anyone would know it’s in her possession. You’re not a player in this particular game anymore and I don’t think you would be connected to the object. Yet another reason why I asked you to retrieve it,” Nazzal said. “Mr. Wallace was not unobserved during his stay here. He’s made no contact with whomever sold it to him nor did he make any telephone calls. And, according to my information, he was on the train to Port Said a few hours ago.”
Harry nodded. “I saw him leave.”
All three ladies looked relieved if not entirely convinced. Harry agreed with them.
“You’ll help us.” Harry met Nazzal’s gaze. It was as much a question as comment.
“Anything for a friend, Harry.” Nazzal stood. “I shall make some inquiries and return as soon as I learn anything.”
“As soon as possible, if you would, please, Mr. Nazzal,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said with a feeble smile.
“Yes, of course.” He nodded in a gallant manner and took his leave.
“Ladies.” Harry retook his seat. “Your plans for the rest of the day?”
“Do you really think it will take that long?” Worry creased Mrs. Higginbotham’s brow.
“Mrs. Higginbotham. Effie.” He stared into her eyes. “I know you have heard stories about western women being abducted and never seen again. But I assure you, a widow—a woman who has been married, a woman past her twentieth year—is not as tempting a target as one might think.”
Her eyes widened with indignation. “Rubbish, Harry. Sidney is a lovely woman and I would think kidnappers would find her most desirable.”
“Beyond that, she’s brilliant,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore added. “And one couldn’t find a nicer, more generous person.”
“It would be dreadful if we misplaced her.” Lady Blodgett’s eyes narrowed. “We would all miss her, wouldn’t we, Harry?”
“Yes, of course.” That awful feeling in his stomach was back.
“Even though you and she are at odds over her writing,” Mrs. Higginbotham began, “it’s our observation that you have become quite fond of each other. As traveling companions and perhaps friends?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.”
“Or even something more?” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore pressed.
“Something...” Harry paused. All three ladies wore the same look of anticipation on their faces. As if they now expected him to declare his feelings, whatever they may be. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to deny that there might indeed be feelings. “Now is neither the time nor the place to discuss a matter that is none of your concern.”
Anticipation turned to disbelief and then indignation.
“Well.” Lady Blodgett rose to her feet and the others followed. “I believe I shall go to my room. And then perhaps the writing room.”
“I daresay we have any number of Lady Travelers pamphlets we should write based on our recent experiences,” Mrs. Higginbotham said.
“One alone on the necessity of leaving notes that are perfectly clear as to whether or not one is being abducted.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore glanced at her friends who nodded in agreement.
“Do let us know if there’s any word.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze bored into his. “At once, Harry. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. And as we are making ourselves clear—” a hard note sounded in his voice “—you will not, either individually or as a group, under any circumstances, leave the hotel.” He wouldn’t put it past them to try to find Sidney themselves.
“Goodness, Harry.” Lady Blodgett huffed. “I told you last night we were not stupid. I assure you, our intelligence has not lessened since then.” She and the others cast him nearly identical disparaging looks then marched into the hotel. As long as they didn’t take it upon themselves to find Sidney, he didn’t care how they looked at him. But the last thing he needed was to lose them all.
A message from Nazzal finally arrived shortly before tea. Harry spotted the messenger and met him at the front desk. The moment he opened the note, he was surrounded by Sidney’s friends who must have been watching the desk as closely as he had.
Mustafa’s note was straight to the point.
Mrs. Gordon has been located in a harem.