SIDNEY BARELY HAD an hour to bathe and dress before the ladies appeared at her door. She was lucky to get that much time as her friends claimed to be dying of curiosity. She quickly filled them in on everything from the finding of the pectoral to Daniel’s betrayal—at which point Effie said she would have shot him and would have enjoyed it—to Walter’s resurrection and Harry’s deception.
The ladies sat on the sofa like an odd sort of jury. They hadn’t interrupted her once. It was not at all like them and rather disquieting. Sidney studied them closely. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“My, that was an adventure.” Poppy smiled uncertainly. “Millicent Forester couldn’t have done better.”
“There is one point that I find confusing.” Gwen thought for a moment. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you say Harry sent a telegram to Mr. Cadwallender conceding defeat?”
She nodded.
“So victory is yours.” Effie beamed. “Well done, Sidney.”
“I haven’t done anything. He let me win.”
Poppy brightened. “And wasn’t that sweet of him?”
“Sweet?” Sidney’s voice rose. “He only did it to get us out of Egypt.”
“He did it to save us from possible harm.” Gwen shook her head. “Unwarranted, of course, but terribly thoughtful of him nonetheless.”
“I wouldn’t call it thoughtful.” Sidney stared at them. “I’d call it cunning and clever and calculating.”
“Well, dear, you may call it whatever you want,” Effie said, her gaze meeting Sidney’s. “But you would be wrong.”
Sidney shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t think—”
“Then you need to start thinking,” Gwen said in a no-nonsense tone. “This is a man who has set his own pride aside, pride that got him into all this in the first place, to do what he thought necessary to keep you safe. It might not have been the best action he could have taken but you can’t fault him for being an idiot.”
“All men are idiots to a certain extent,” Poppy added. “Why, I’m not sure one who wasn’t would be any fun at all. It really does give us an advantage they never suspect.”
“And it does seem to us, a man who would voluntarily lose at anything in order to save a woman, whether his actions were misguided or not—” Effie shrugged “—is a man worth keeping.”
“But he lied to me.”
All three ladies gave her identical chastising looks.
“Yes, yes, I know but I lied to everyone—not just him. It wasn’t personal. Furthermore, I did not intend to lie. There is a difference, you know.”
“And one should probably consider the difference as well between a man who has a title and fortune and conceals it and one who claims to have a title and fortune and doesn’t.” Poppy grimaced. “In the scheme of things, one is eminently forgivable and the other isn’t.”
Sidney stared in disbelief. “You’re on his side. All of you.”
“No, Sidney.” Effie pinned her with a firm look. “We are on your side. Always.”
“As odd as it may sound, we have simply come to the conclusion that you and Harry are somehow on the same side now. Those sorts of things often happen when one falls in love.” Gwen studied her curiously. “And really, Sidney, we’d be shocked if you didn’t already know that.”
“It’s possible I suppose.” They were right and Sidney did indeed know it.
“Tell us, Sidney,” Poppy said briskly, “what are you going to do now?”
She shook her head. “There are still things he doesn’t know.”
“Then you should march right down to his room and tell him.” Gwen gestured toward the door. “I would suggest at once.”
“Millicent would.” Poppy nodded.
“Millicent is fictional, dear.” Effie eyed Sidney thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s time you stopped considering what Millicent Forester would do—”
Sidney opened her mouth to protest but Effie narrowed her eyes and Sidney reconsidered.
“—or what Mrs. Gordon would do. Perhaps it’s time to consider what Sidney Honeywell would do.”
“Sidney Honeywell has never done anything,” Sidney said sharply.
“Sidney Honeywell created Millicent and Mrs. Gordon.” Gwen ticked the points off on her fingers. “She cared for her mother, became an expert on Egypt as well as a successful writer and she finished her grandmother’s work.”
Sidney shook her head. “That was not why I came here.”
“Regardless.” Poppy smiled. “The end result is what matters.”
“The Sidney Honeywell we know had the courage to leave her very safe world of words to come to Egypt in the first place.” Effie’s voice softened. “It seems to us, she should have the courage as well to trust the quite wonderful man who is so clearly in love with her.”
Sidney stared at the trio for a long moment. It was easy to talk about courage, gathering it was a different matter. Did she have the courage to tell Harry everything regardless of the consequences? Did she have a choice?
“If you will excuse me, ladies.” Sidney nodded and left her room before the resolve she’d managed to muster vanished. She strode briskly down the hall and knocked on Harry’s door.
He opened it at once and she had the distinct impression that he was about to leave. His hair was still damp from his bath and for a moment, desire threatened to overcome apprehension.
“Harry,” she said firmly and marched into his suite. “It’s time we talked. Past time really.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” he said cautiously and closed the door behind him.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Not especially.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door. “Go on. Talk.”
“Very well.” She clasped her hands together—she didn’t know what else to do with them—and drew a deep breath. “It’s become apparent to me that I’ve been so busy keeping the truth about my writing from you, I have not told you much of anything about myself.”
“I don’t need to know,” he said coolly. “Anything in your life that happened before you met me doesn’t concern me in the least.”
“Very noble.” And really quite nice. “Nonetheless, I don’t want any more secrets between us. And you deserve the truth.”
“The truth? That will be a change.” He bit back a grin. Wise of him. “Do go on.”
“There’s really little of interest to tell. I attended a well-respected school for girls. When my father died I took care of my mother until her death some four years ago now. I’ve had a passion for Egypt ever since I first met Aunt Effie and learned about my grandparents. After my mother died I started writing. I thought I had had been quite clear in stating my stories were simply based on true events—I never claimed they were my experiences but apparently people didn’t notice.”
“People see what they want to see or what they need to see.” He paused. “Is that all?”
“You were right about me from the beginning.”
“Oh, I knew that.” He smirked. “I am usually right.”
She ignored him. “I never realized I was competitive but apparently I am. Or maybe it’s because I could go anywhere and do anything as Millicent. I was not willing to allow someone else to take that away from me.”
He nodded. “Understandable.”
“You’re very clever, Harry Armstrong, and it was apparent to me it was only a matter of time before you denounced me so I chose to end my stories.”
His brow furrowed. “You what?”
“I mailed my final installment of Tales of a Lady Adventurer in Egypt to Mr. Cadwallender a few days ago. Millicent Forester has at last decided to give her hand to Richard Weatherly. And they are off to have new adventures together. None of which are for publication.” She braced herself. “I couldn’t allow you to win—to take my stories away from me. So I chose to end them.”
His eyes narrowed. “So this game between us was a draw?”
“Exactly.” She paused. “Well a tiny bit more of a victory for me but I think we can consider it a draw.”
“You thought I’d be angry about this?”
“You are terribly arrogant, Harry. Not at all the type of man who likes to lose.”
“No one likes to lose. And I would consider it a compromise rather than a draw.” He chuckled. “I’ve never been especially fond of compromise either.”
“So, this doesn’t bother you?” she said slowly. “The fact that I beat you at what was essentially your own game?”
“When you put it that way...” He shrugged. “No, not really. I didn’t lose after all. Anything else?”
“Nothing of significance.” Although it was probably best to tell him everything. “Your writing is terrible.”
“Ah yes, I could have done without that bit of truth but thank you.”
“You have entirely too many sand fleas and vermin.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“But, from what little I read, I suspect you have wonderful stories to tell. And I intend to write them, with your assistance, of course.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “Walter is alive and apparently content. With any luck at all, he’ll have a long life ahead of him. There will be people who will remember him. He doesn’t need my help now. And I don’t need to tell our stories anymore.” His gaze met hers. “You did this, Sidney. You brought me back to Egypt. You redeemed my soul.”
She raised a brow.
“I know it sounds stupid, reeking of overwrought words and, well, feelings.” He threw up his hands in surrender. “But that’s what you’ve done to me. And I must say I resent it.” He shook his head. “And I’m glad.”
“You should know, I intend to continue writing, not just your stories but others as well. And I intend to keep any income I receive from writing. I shall want papers drawn up stating that.”
He shook his head in confusion. “Papers?”
“If I decided to marry you, not that you have asked but I’m assuming you will—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Now there’s something you should know. You were not my first unexpected visitor today. Less than an hour ago, I had an interesting chat with Lady Blodgett who wanted to know what I intended to do about my obligation as I had so obviously taken advantage of you.” He was clearly trying not to grin but the corners of his mouth quirked upward. “I told her who took advantage of whom was in question.”
Sidney gasped. “You didn’t.”
“My next visitor was Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore who also wanted to discuss my responsibilities in regards to marriage as well as extoll your virtues.” He eyed her curiously. “You are apparently quite remarkable.”
Her face heated. “You know how all three of them are prone to exaggeration.”
“On the contrary.” He straightened and moved toward her. “I agree with them.”
“Oh?” She swallowed hard at the look in his eyes and resisted the urge to step back.
He nodded. “And then of course, not to be outdone, my last caller was Mrs. Higginbotham.”
“She thinks you’re wonderful.”
He grinned. “I am. She too wanted to know if I intended to do the honorable thing—”
“I am not an ob—”
He pressed his finger to her lips to quiet her. “Do you want to hear the rest of this?”
She nodded.
He removed his finger and continued. “She pointed out how foolish it would be to at last find the one woman in the world meant for you, the woman who made you think about feelings you never expected to have, the woman who stole your soul, and then not do something about it. Because surely someone else might.”
She stared up at him. “There is no one else.”
“Good.” He smiled. “Papers, eh?”
She nodded.
“I must be mad.” He shook his head. “Papers it is.” He took her hands, drew a deep breath and gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Sidney Honeywell. Do not leave me at the mercy of those old ladies. Do me the very great honor of spending the rest of your life driving me mad. Be my obligation and my wife.”
“I love you too, Harry Armstrong. Aside from that—” she grinned “—I’d prefer not to be at the mercy of those old ladies either and I would be if I said no. They would say I was a fool and they’d be right. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do for the rest of my life than drive you mad.”
“Well, you did say we made an impressive team.” He pulled her into his arms. “So you see—I really did win after all.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “You should also know the first story I intend to write is ours.”
He grinned. “A love story, then?”
She nodded.
“Interesting except that ours is never going to end.” His lips brushed across hers.
“Why, Harry, I thought you knew.” Her voice was once again breathless. The things this man did to her. “The very best love stories never do.”