SIDNEY WAS IN her room when Harry returned to the hotel, according to a helpful maid. He grabbed today’s Gazette and took a seat in a shadowed corner of the grand lobby, with an excellent view of the lifts, the stairs and the exits. He didn’t wait long.
Scarcely three-quarters of an hour later. Sidney came down in the lift carrying a large envelope. She stopped at the post office, reappeared without the envelope, then headed out the hotel door, as relaxed and serene as if she were going to a picnic at the khedive’s palace. He doubted she’d received yet another royal invitation but then one never knew who might have read that blasted book of hers. She’d been given diamonds by a princess because of it for God’s sake. In spite of the fact that her stories weren’t true, one should perhaps give her credit for her success. Obviously people liked what she wrote. The moment she walked out the door, he was up and following her.
It was not at all hard to keep her in sight but then she had no reason to think anyone might be following her. She certainly took no precautions of any kind. His teeth clenched. The woman had no fear whatsoever. It was at once charming and exceptionally annoying. Women did not go wandering around Cairo on their own, even in the middle of the day. It was a bad idea and he did not like it.
At the very moment he decided he’d had enough of this and he needed to join her for her own good, she turned into the Hotel d’Angleterre. He was no more than a few yards behind her. He entered to see her disappearing into the dining room. Surely she wasn’t here simply to eat? Unless they’d hired a new chef, the food here was no more than adequate. He slipped into the dining room and positioned himself behind a huge urn filled with palm fronds set in front of a column. The waiters ignored him. They’d probably seen far stranger behavior.
Harry scanned the room, more than half-full of diners. He spotted Sidney, her back to him—good God! She was meeting Nazzal? Wasn’t this interesting. They talked for a few minutes then Sidney discreetly reached into her bag, palmed something and handed it to Nazzal. Nicely done. The Egyptian however was not as circumspect and Harry could see it was the medallion. Obviously, Sidney’s study of the object was not as aimless as she had implied. At one point she passed him a piece of paper that they appeared to discuss for a few minutes before he folded it and put in a pocket. Nazzal then returned the relic, which made no sense at all.
Harry caught Nazzal’s eye when Sidney got up to leave a half an hour or so later. Nazzal showed no more than a flicker of surprise but his smile grew slightly wider. Harry followed Sidney back to Shepheard’s, waited until she was in her room and paid a bellboy to let him know if she so much as poked her head out the door. Then he headed for the bar.
Nazzal had chosen a different table today. This one in the corner, far more private and far less susceptible to eavesdropping.
“Sit down, my friend.” Nazzal indicated the empty chair. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”
“Because you knew I’d need it?” Harry settled into the chair and took a deep swallow of the gin and tonic.
“Well, I knew when I spotted you you would want to talk as well.” Nazzal chuckled. “I was right in the beginning. About a woman getting the best of you.”
“Not yet. So what’s this all about?”
“Regardless of the truth about her experiences as detailed in her writing, she is well versed in the study of Egypt. Did you know she reads hieroglyphics?”
“I read hieroglyphics.”
“As do I but this is the land of my birth and you learned out of necessity. And slowly I might add.”
Harry shrugged.
“She convinced me to let her keep the medallion for now.”
“Why?”
“Because she thinks it fits into a larger piece. Possibly rectangular. There are four evenly spaced notches on the medallion. Mrs. Gordon thinks that’s what holds it in position in the larger piece.”
“Interesting assumption.” Harry thought for a moment. “Does she have any other basis for this conjecture?”
“The images on one side are a complete design within the circle of the medallion. On the other side, the engravings appear to be only part of a larger design. She also thinks the perspective indicates a four-sided shape.”
“Does she?” Harry studied Nazzal closely. “There’s more isn’t there? What is it?”
“She thinks when this medallion is reunited with the larger piece—possibly a pectoral—it will reveal something quite significant.”
“For example.”
“The location of Itjtawy.” Nazzal’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if it wasn’t the least bit important.
“Itjtawy,” Harry said slowly, the true significance of the Egyptian’s statement gradually dawning on him. “Middle Kingdom? Capital of Egypt for hundreds of years? Lost for thousands more? That would be the find of the century.”
“Wouldn’t it be amusing if this woman you claim is a fraud leads us to find something quite remarkable.”
“Amusing isn’t the word I’d use.” Was it even remotely possible that Harry had been wrong all along about Sidney’s writing? No. There had to be another explanation.
“Perhaps not for you.” Nazzal leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Mrs. Gordon asked me to help her find a man who used to work with her grandparents.”
“Her grandparents?”
“Apparently they spent quite a lot of time in Egypt. Before my time, of course, but they had an excellent reputation and made a few significant discoveries.”
Harry shook his head. “I had no idea.”
Nazzal raised a brow. “You did not make inquiries about her before you started this venture?”
“Afraid not.” He hadn’t even thought of it and he certainly should have. But he’d been too busy being righteous and indignant.
“I see. Tell me, when one receives a title and money does one then become an idiot?”
“Apparently.”
“There’s more but I think it best if she tells you herself. I will say, I am quite impressed with your Mrs. Gordon.” He paused. “You might find it interesting that she said she was not at all who people thought she was but she did intend to be.”
“I don’t know what to make of that.” Yet another piece of the puzzle that was Sidney Gordon.
“She might not be the Queen of the Desert, Harry, but she might be something quite a bit more interesting.”
“That, at least, my friend—” Harry raised his glass “—I do know.”
* * *
“HARRY!” SIDNEY’S EYES lit with welcome. “You’re back. And far earlier than I expected. I thought you wouldn’t be back until evening.”
“I missed the boat.” He stepped into her room and she closed the door behind him.
“Did you?” Her eyes widened. “Then where have you been all day?”
“I think a more pertinent question is, where have you been?”
“Come now, Harry.” She moved close and gazed up into his eyes in a decidedly flirtatious manner. “I think you know.”
“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.
“I mean—” her voice hardened and she stepped back “—I saw you.”
“Saw me?”
“Yes, in the lobby. And on the street. And at the Hotel d’Angleterre.” She huffed. “I don’t like being followed and I don’t like being spied upon and I don’t need your protection. I am not some sort of feeble, insipid creature who swoons at the mere hint of trouble. I have taken care of myself for a very long time.”
He started to protest but she held up her hand.
“However, I will confess there was something quite heartening about knowing you were there should I need you. So you have my thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said slowly. Of all the things he thought might happen, this was not one of them.
“Furthermore, it works out quite nicely that you are not cruising the Nile as I would appreciate your help.”
“Finding lost cities?”
She raised a brow. “I see you’ve already spoken to Mr. Nazzal.”
“I have.”
“Excellent.” Her eyes sparkled. “Then there’s less for me to explain. Although we have some time.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I do want to be here when the others return. The fewer people who know about this, the better I think. Erring on the side of caution and all.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“First—” she fetched the medallion from the desk and handed it to him “—you might want to look at this.”
“Given you appropriated the thing the moment I found it, I certainly would.”
“You needn’t be so indignant about it.” Amusement sounded in her voice. “Oh, but I forgot. You don’t trust me.”
“You shall have to work on that,” he said under his breath. He turned the disk over in his hand, noting the engravings on both sides. It really was an exquisite piece. Hard to believe it was probably thousands of years old. Sidney was right. While the design on one side was perfectly centered, the engraving on the other definitely looked like it was only a small part of a larger design.
“And do sit down.” She nodded toward the sofa. “This is rather complicated.”
He cast a skeptical look at the sofa.
“I assure you, it’s much more comfortable to sit on than to sleep on.”
“It couldn’t possibly be worse,” he muttered but sat anyway.
“This is all very exciting but I don’t want to repeat myself so why don’t you tell me what Mr. Nazzal told you.”
“Very well.” He studied the medallion for a moment. “He said because of the notches, you thought this was part of a larger piece. And looking at this, I tend to agree. They serve no other purpose but to hold the medallion in place.”
She nodded. “Good.”
He turned it over. “He also said you think when this medallion is joined with the larger piece it could reveal the location of Itjtawy.”
“Isn’t it exciting?” She sat down beside him.
“Very, but you’ve made some assumptions here that may not be warranted.”
“Have I?” She smiled in a distinctly superior manner. “Oh, I don’t think so.” She took the medallion and placed it on her palm. “On this side we have hieroglyphics that seem to indicate the name of the queen consort of Amenemhat II, or part of her name at least. Right here—” she pointed to a symbol on the medallion “—that says ‘great royal wife.’ Well, more or less. It’s always difficult to be entirely precise with hieroglyphics. As you know, this particular king is rather obscure—”
He didn’t but he let it pass.
“—and nothing yet discovered has given any name at all for any of his wives, as he would have had more than one.”
“But if that’s the name of a queen wouldn’t it be in a cartouche?” As all royal names were contained in a cartouche. Anytime he’d run into hieroglyphics bound by an oblong border with a bar on one end indicating how it should be read, it had always signified royalty.
She shook her head. “That’s true of kings’ names, but queens’ names weren’t written in cartouches until at least a century or two after Amenemhat II.”
“Go on.”
“If indeed this side reveals the name of Amenemhat II’s queen,” she said, flipping the medallion over, “this side might well indicate where the city her husband ruled from can be found.”
Her reasoning actually made sense but was rather far-fetched.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say something?”
He chose his words with care. “I think you may be jumping to conclusions.”
“You would be right. However...” She grinned with sheer satisfaction. “There’s more.” She thrust the medallion into his hand, fairly leaped off the sofa, crossed the room to the desk and returned with an old book. “This is my grandmother’s journal. Her last journal actually.” She resumed her seat and opened the book. “She and my grandfather spent most of their lives in Egypt searching for tombs and antiquities and, well, knowledge. It’s my understanding that they were modestly successful and highly respected.”
“Nazzal said something about your grandparents but he didn’t mention a journal.”
“I didn’t know my grandparents, they died when I was very young. Lost at sea on their final voyage to Egypt.”
“My condolences.”
“Thank you, but as I said I never knew them. In fact, I didn’t know anything about them at all until I met Aunt Effie. She was a very dear friend of my grandmother’s. When my grandparents would go off on another expedition to Egypt, my grandmother left her journals with Effie, in the event something happened.” She grimaced. “And of course it did.”
“Again, I am—”
“It’s quite all right, really. You needn’t continue to offer your sympathies although it’s nice of you to do so.” She patted his hand in a comforting manner, and continued. “In the last journal, she writes about a small cache of artifacts, no more than two dozen separate items, they stumbled onto near Dahshur.”
He drew his brows together. “A tomb?”
“No, a cave. It appeared this collection of items had been hidden eons ago. Probably by tomb robbers who, oddly enough, never returned.”
“So it remained for hundreds, possibly thousands of years,” he said thoughtfully.
She nodded. “For whatever reason—and grandmother’s journal is unfortunately vague about this—they put the cache back where they found it, intending of course to return on their next trip.”
“But they never made it back.”
“No and when I saw the medallion the other night, it struck me that it looked very much like one of the relics Grandmother wrote about. She listed all the objects in great detail and made drawings of some of them, those she considered most significant. She believed they were from the tomb of Amenemhat II’s queen.” She opened the journal and turned to one of the last entries. “This is a sketch of a rectangular piece, a pectoral I believe, a sort of necklace or breastplate—”
“I know what a pectoral is.”
“Of course you do. Sorry,” she said absently. “Now look right here...” She tapped a section of the drawing. “That circular area? It’s not very detailed and it’s a bit faded but it does look to me very much like the medallion we have.”
Harry placed the medallion on the page next to the drawing. “It does seem to match.”
“There’s another drawing—” she turned the page “—here that matches the back although the ink is both faded and smudged and not distinct enough to provide any real information.”
“Even so, there is a resemblance.”
“Exactly.” She turned another page. “And here is a drawing of the cave itself. This rocky outcropping looks somewhat like a sitting camel, don’t you think?”
“No.” He paused. “Perhaps.”
“Now all we need to do is find the rest of the piece and that could lead us to the location of Itjtawy.” She snapped the journal shut.
“Possibly.” He held out his hand. “May I see that?”
“Certainly.” She handed him the book.
He leafed through it. Was it possible that these journals of her grandmother’s were the inspiration for Sidney’s stories?
“It’s one of the last entries.” Impatience sounded in her voice. “Just think—we can follow in my grandmother’s footsteps.”
“Not your grandfather’s?”
“Not really.” Sidney waved off the question. “Aside from the occasional comment—the kinds of things one says about a husband I suppose—Grandmother rarely mentioned him. Her journals are her story not his. From what she wrote—and from what Effie has said—she was not the sort of woman to faint away at the first sign of danger.” She paused. “Although she did have a fear of snakes.”
“As do many of us. And there are far worse footsteps to follow in I suppose.” He found the right page and studied the drawings, trying to ignore that distinct sense of mounting excitement he’d always had when he had been on the trail of an important find. Those days were behind him. “Or perhaps it would be better to turn this all over to Nazzal.”
“Are you mad?” Disbelief blazed in her eyes. “This is the opportunity to uncover history.” She jumped to her feet, snatched the book from his hands and waved it at him. “To ensure my family’s legacy. To finish my grandmother’s story.” Sidney met his gaze directly. “Furthermore, I can think of no better way to prove to you that I am not a fraud than by finding a lost city.”
Maybe he should tell her now that was no longer necessary. Would she still want to continue then? Admittedly, the idea of finding something this important was almost irresistible. The old Harry Armstrong wouldn’t have hesitated. He got to his feet. “Sidney—”
“It seems to me you might have something to prove as well.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I have nothing to prove.”
“Don’t you?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Daniel said you were well known among Egyptologists—which is not the same thing as being an Egyptologist—”
“I’ve never cared much for titles.”
“—and I am very well versed in every exhibit, every lecture, and very nearly everything else that involves the study and discoveries of Egypt both past and present. Yet I have never so much as heard your name.”
“I’m not sure why that matters.”
“Perhaps it doesn’t. But you spent years here, you lost a dear friend, and, as far as I can tell, have received no recognition for your work whatsoever. Why, you’ve never even been invited to join the Egyptian Antiquities Society.”
He stiffened. “You don’t know that.”
“Before we left London, I checked the membership list and neither your name nor your uncle’s is on it. Which brings up another point. Until your uncle wrote his vile letters to The Times I had never heard of the Earl of Brenton. And while I don’t know them personally, I am familiar with the names of most of those supporters of expeditions or enthusiasts of Egyptian history and archeology. Which leads me to believe his letters were at your urging and the only reason for trying to discredit my work is to lessen competition with your own.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear more. “About my uncle—”
“It’s obvious you feel responsible for your friend’s death. Writing about your adventures in Egypt—and I did read those pages you left for me—would keep his memory alive and provide him, and you, with the recognition you’ve been denied but probably deserve.”
“You’ve given this a great deal of thought.”
“I would be a fool not to. You and your uncle are trying to ruin me.”
“I don’t want to ruin you,” he said slowly. “Frankly, I really wasn’t thinking about you when this whole mess started. And you’re right. I do feel responsible for Walter’s death. And yes, I was thinking about my own work and my own legacy but more than that—” he met her gaze firmly “—Walter and I and Ben made a contribution here and I wanted it acknowledged. Not really for myself although I will admit that was indeed part of it.” It was difficult to put into words. He blew a long breath. “I didn’t want Walter’s life to have been for nothing. He had no family to speak of, there’s no one left to remember him except me and Ben. I didn’t want him to fade from the world as if he was never here.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “That’s rather noble of you.”
“I can be noble.”
“I’ve become quite fond of you, Harry Armstrong, in spite of your uncle.” She shook her head. “Was that a mistake?”
He grinned. “Probably. But it’s a mistake I’ve made as well as I’ve become more than merely fond of you.” He stepped closer, took the journal from her hand and set it on the desk.
“Oh?” She stared up at him. “How much more?”
“A great deal more.” He pulled her into his arms.
She gazed up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Why, Harry Armstrong, are you finally going to kiss me when it isn’t out of mere necessity?”
“My dear, Mrs. Gordon, I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” He pulled her closer against him. “It was never out of mere necessity.” With that he pressed his lips to hers.
The oddest sense of inevitability and with it acceptance swept through him at the feel of her lips against his. The taste of her, the scent of her invaded his senses and wrapped around his soul. A kiss would not be enough. A day, a year, a lifetime would not be enough. He wanted this woman in his bed, in his life, by his side for the rest of his days. Her mouth opened to his and he savored the taste of her—warm unknown spices and adventures yet to come. Her body pressed against his and his blood pounded in his veins.
She gasped. “Harry.”
“Sidney.” He fairly sighed her name, wrenched his lips from hers and feathered kisses along the line of her jaw.
“Harry!” She pushed harder. “There’s someone at the door.”
“Ignore it.” He kissed the side of her neck, just below her ear. She shivered in his arms and his muscles tightened.
“I would dearly love to, Harry.” Her voice had the most delightful breathless quality. “But we can’t.”
He groaned. “Why not?”
“Because that might well be another piece to our puzzle.”
He raised his head and looked down at her. “What? Now?”
“So it would seem.” Her eyes sparkled.
“I’d be willing to forgo a lost city right now for time together if you are.”
“Goodness, Harry.” She reached up and nibbled the lobe of his ear. “We might be able to have both.”