“TEA?” SIDNEY SAID in a strangled voice.
Obviously the ladies were fine and apparently enjoying themselves. The same could not be said for Sidney.
“Tea?” she said again.
“Be a dear, Harry, and help Sidney to a seat.” Mrs. Higginbotham looked around the confined space. “Although seat isn’t entirely accurate is it?”
“Pillow, then,” Lady Blodgett said. “Or cushion if you prefer. Regardless, she will need assistance.”
“We certainly did. Egyptian seating is not designed for appropriate English clothing.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore beamed at the gentleman beside them. “But Mr. Nazzal was of great help.”
Mustafa Nazzal rose effortlessly to his feet. “Mr. Armstrong.” He nodded a bow. “It’s a small world, is it not?”
“And growing smaller every day.” Harry shouldn’t be at all surprised to see the Egyptian although he never expected to find him in the company of Sidney’s elderly friends.
Sidney leaned close, her gaze fixed on Nazzal, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know him?”
“I do.”
“And he’s...”
“An accomplished gentleman of many and varied pursuits,” Harry said, managing to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“Oh?” Sidney stared.
“I do try,” Nazzal said in a modest manner.
Sidney eyed him suspiciously. “Then there is nothing to be concerned about?”
“Not at all,” Harry lied. There was always something to be concerned about when Mustafa Nazzal appeared. Nazzal was a minor Egyptian official—although his precise position had always been somewhat vague—with connections to the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities and his finger in anything that might be profitable, regardless of whether it was unsavory or completely aboveboard. Nazzal was fiercely loyal to his country and was the kind of man who knew everything about everything and everyone. The kind of man one didn’t want as an enemy. His services and assistance were often invaluable.
“And you must be the incomparable Mrs. Gordon,” Nazzal said in a charming manner obviously designed to melt even the wariest heart.
Sidney smiled cautiously. “I’m not sure about incomparable...”
“Allow me to present Mrs. Gordon,” Harry said. “Sidney, this is Mr. Mustafa Nazzal.”
“An old friend of Mr. Armstrong’s,” Nazzal said smoothly. He took Sidney’s hand and raised it to his lips. “I am enchanted to meet a woman of such accomplishment.”
Sidney stared. “Thank you.”
“We’ve been telling him all about you.” Pride rang in Gwen’s voice. “About your books and your adventures.”
“My apologies, Mrs. Gordon.” Nazzal gazed into her eyes. “I do not recall having heard your name before. But surely it has just slipped my mind?”
“Happens to the best of us, old man,” Harry said quickly. Excellent. Now he had to guard against Nazzal uncovering the truth about Sidney as well as Corbin. A question flashed through his mind. When had his purpose changed from exposing Sidney to protecting her? He ignored it. Besides, running into the Egyptian was nothing more than a momentary distraction. They probably wouldn’t see him again during their stay. “Tell me, how did you come to meet my friends?”
“Ah yes.” Nazzal chuckled. “They were concerned that they had somehow misplaced Mrs. Gordon and you as well. Hamad thought it more expeditious to search for the two of you without the ladies so he brought them here. Hamad is a cousin of my uncle’s wife and this is my uncle’s shop. I happened to stop by on a matter of business.”
“Mr. Nazzal knew my husband,” Mrs. Higginbotham said brightly. “What a remarkable coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Remarkable.” Harry met the other man’s gaze.
“Even before our more formal arrangement with Britain, there has long been a sizable presence of British officers in Egypt. I daresay, Colonel Higginbotham isn’t the only mutual acquaintance between us.” Nazzal turned back to the older lady. “I’m not sure our chance meeting was as remarkable as it was delightful.”
“Goodness, Mr. Nazzal.” Mrs. Higginbotham uttered something that might well have been a giggle.
Harry stared.
Sidney nudged him with her elbow. “Stop that.”
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“Mr. Nazzal,” Sidney said pleasantly. “You have my undying gratitude for extending your hospitality to my friends and, as much as I would like to join you, I’m afraid it is growing late and we must be going.”
“To my eternal regret,” Nazzal said.
Good. The sooner they were out of here the better. If Sidney had indeed spent any time at all in Egypt, Nazzal would know. Fortunately, Corbin wasn’t with them at the moment and Harry had no doubt the older ladies were complicit in Sidney’s deception.
“But perhaps you would join us for dinner tonight,” Sidney continued. “At Shepheard’s Hotel.”
“That would be lovely, Mr. Nazzal.” An eager note sounded in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice, the other ladies chiming in. It appeared they were all taken with the charismatic Egyptian.
“I’m afraid I have other plans tonight,” Nazzal said with a reluctant shake of his head.
Harry released a breath he didn’t know he’d held.
“However, I believe there is dancing at the hotel tomorrow night,” Nazzal continued. “Perhaps I could join you then.”
“Wonderful, Mr. Nazzal.” Lady Blodgett smiled a distinctly flirtatious sort of smile. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had the pleasure of a dance and I quite look forward to it.”
Nazzal cast Sidney an amused glance, as if they now shared some sort of private joke or connection about the older ladies’ obvious liking of him. A connection he would use to his advantage if necessary. Harry knew exactly what the man was thinking and he didn’t find it at all amusing.
“If we’re agreed, then.” Sidney glanced around the circle of older ladies. “We should be on our way.”
“I suppose.” Mrs. Higginbotham sighed. “But we are going to need a bit of assistance.” Her gaze shifted between Nazzal and Harry, and then she extended a hand to Harry. He had the oddest sense of triumph. “If you would help me to my feet.”
“Yes, of course.” Harry stepped closer and took the lady’s hand, carefully helping her stand. Sidney, Hamad and Nazzal assisted the other ladies.
“Goodness, Harry,” Mrs. Higginbotham said under her breath. “You needn’t treat me like a piece of fragile porcelain. I am much studier than I look.”
He grinned. “I assure you, Mrs. Higginbotham, I never suspected otherwise.”
“Humph.” Her lips pressed together in a skeptical line. “I don’t believe you for a moment. Oh, and after due consideration, I have an offer for you. I shall refrain from referring to you as ‘the buffoon’ if you cease to refer to me as ‘the dragon.’”
“Oh, I never—”
“It’s pointless to protest, Harry. You know it and I know it. And while I do like the idea of thinking of myself as a dragon—majestic beasts don’t you think?”
“Um.” He had no idea how to respond.
“Excellent answer, Harry.” Mrs. Higginbotham rolled her eyes toward the low ceiling. “I would much prefer other people not refer to me that way. You understand.”
He nodded.
“You are proving to be more acceptable than expected.” Mrs. Higginbotham nodded approvingly. “Believe me, no one is more surprised than I.”
The group said their goodbyes and Hamad arranged for a few boys to carry their considerable number of packages. The guide then easily led them out of the bazaar to the Muski where Hamad arranged for two cabs—one for Harry and the ladies, the other for Hamad and their parcels, all of varying sizes, some quite large. What in the hell had they bought? Harry had no idea how poor Hamad had managed to carry it all. The ladies settled on one side of the carriage, Sidney sat beside him.
Once they were headed back to the hotel, Harry leaned forward on his seat and addressed the elderly women in his best no-nonsense tone. “Ladies, wandering off on your own here is ill-advised. I would request that you refrain from doing so. Furthermore, should we be separated again, we need a plan as to where we are to meet. I cannot impress upon you strongly enough what sorts of things could have happened to you. The markets of Cairo are not akin to Bond Street or Harrods. Mrs. Gordon was extremely worried.”
“There was no need.” Lady Blodgett smiled at the younger woman. “We were with Hamad after all.”
“And what of Mrs. Gordon?” Harry nodded toward Sidney. “She was alone.”
Mrs. Higginbotham frowned. “We thought she was with you.”
“Mr. Armstrong and I were separated as well,” Sidney said.
“I want your word that if we misplace one another again you will return immediately to the hotel,” he said sternly.
“You needn’t be so adamant about it, Harry.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore sniffed.
“We’re not children and we prefer not to be treated as such,” Lady Blodgett added.
“He’s right though,” Mrs. Higginbotham said in a resigned manner. “We do need to stay together and we certainly should agree on procedures should we be separated again. Not that we intend to be, but one never knows what might happen while one is traveling.” She glanced at the others. “Don’t we have a Lady Travelers pamphlet on what to do when one is lost in a foreign land?”
“I’m not sure.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s brow furrowed. “But I do believe we have recommended finding the British consulate in such circumstances.”
“Perhaps we should write a pamphlet about being lost in something like the markets of Cairo.” Lady Blodgett cast Harry an approving smile. “Excellent idea, Harry. We shall do so the moment we return to London. Do you have any other good advice?”
All three ladies stared expectantly.
“Not at the moment.” There was apparently nothing like old ladies looking at you as if you had some sort of rare wisdom to impart to take the wind out of your sails. Especially if you didn’t. He struggled to keep a firm note in his voice. “But should something come to mind I will be sure to mention it.”
“See that you do, Harry.” Mrs. Higginbotham nodded and waved him away, apparently the discussion was at an end. He settled back in his seat and she turned her attention to her friends. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am with my purchases. I never imagined I would find such remarkable goods.”
“Oh my yes.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement Harry had only ever seen in a man’s eyes when he had unearthed a rare treasure or done something of great accomplishment. “Why the colors of the...”
Harry inclined his head toward Sidney and spoke quietly. “Why did you invite Nazzal to join us tomorrow?
“He did us a great favor, Mr. Armstrong,” she said coolly. “I thought the very least we could do was invite him to dinner. I regret he couldn’t join us tonight.”
“The very least we could do was thank him and hope never to see him again.” He blew an annoyed breath. “We’re back to Mr. Armstrong are we?”
“For the moment.” She paused. “You don’t like Mr. Nazzal?”
“I don’t trust Mr. Nazzal.”
Her eyes widened with something that might well have been delight. Damnation. What was wrong with the woman? “Is he untrustworthy?”
“Let us just say he has his own agenda.” He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure I would call him untrustworthy, at least not completely, but his loyalty lies first with himself and then his country.”
“When were you last in Egypt, Harry?” she asked abruptly.
Given their encounter with Nazzal, anything but the truth seemed pointless. “About a year ago.”
“You really haven’t said much about your experiences here.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Or about yourself at all for that matter.”
“I don’t believe this endeavor is about my experience but about yours.” The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the hotel.
Sidney didn’t seem to notice. “Even so, I would think—”
“Sidney,” Mrs. Higginbotham interrupted. “It’s nearly five o’clock, will you be joining us for tea on the terrace?”
“Haven’t you already had enough tea?” Harry asked, helping the ladies out of the carriage.
“One can never have enough tea, young man.” Lady Blodgett looked at him as if he were a small and exceptionally stupid child.
“Why, we said yesterday that we couldn’t imagine anything more fascinating than the parade that passes by Shepheard’s terrace and I should hate to miss even one afternoon. We do need to make good use of our limited time.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore cast him a sharp look as obviously this was his fault.
He smiled weakly.
The older lady glanced cautiously from side to side as if to make certain no one was listening. “Oh, I do hope to see a funeral today. Processions apparently pass by frequently and are said to be fascinating.”
“People do tend to die on a regular basis, Poppy, so no doubt your wish will be fulfilled sooner rather than later.” Mrs. Higginbotham started up the stairs toward the hotel door.
“I’m certainly not wishing anyone dead.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore followed her friend. “But if they are going to die, I should like to see the spectacle. It would be quite...educational.”
“And we are always interested in learning new things.” Lady Blodgett started after the other ladies then paused and directed her words to Harry. “Although Daniel said he heard that Shepheard’s actually pays funerals to march by the terrace. Can you imagine such a thing?”
“I wouldn’t think the recently deceased would mind,” Harry said. “Even here, funerals can be costly and defraying a little of the expense sounds like an excellent idea.”
Sidney choked back a laugh.
“It does at that, doesn’t it?” Lady Blodgett frowned thoughtfully. “And something to keep in mind for the future.”
Harry restrained himself from pointing out such a scheme would not work well in London. In spite of everything, he had grown rather fond of the trio. He was beginning to think of them as something akin to family. It was not an unpleasant idea.
Sidney started after the others then paused. “Will you be joining us for tea?”
“I believe I will forgo tea today.”
“Then will we see you at dinner?”
“Absolutely.”
She studied him curiously. “Do you like being mysterious?”
“I didn’t realize I was. But if I am...” He grinned. “Then yes I suppose I do.”
“I wouldn’t become accustomed to it if I were you.” She nodded and continued up the stairs.
Harry had the distinct impression a gauntlet had just been thrown down. He chuckled. He’d always rather liked gauntlets.