“Do we seek out Mr. Tremaine, Hathor?” Bing walked along beside her as though her charge had not just snubbed two distinguished gentlemen for no apparent reason.
“We do, Bing. And I am heartily sick of the tedious god-king and his equally tedious daughter.”
“As you say,” Bing replied.
Robbie was tall, and so she quickly scanned the assembly, looking for his blond head and wishing she could whistle for him. In the process, her gaze rested upon the self-assured civil servant, who had managed to stay parallel with her despite the crowded quarters. Lifting her chin, she gave him a quelling look just so that he was aware she was on to him, and then at long last spotted Robbie’s form at a small distance in the crowd. He was surrounded by a group of people, and bent his head for a moment to listen to a blond woman, who was trying to speak to him over the noise of the throng. “I see him, Bing—and not a moment too soon. Come along.”
But before she could squeeze in his direction, Hattie was confronted by the Prussian ambassador himself, who gallantly handed her a glass of punch and indicated he would like to speak to her in a quieter corner. Short of pulling her hand from his and pushing yet another one bodily to the floor, she had little choice but to comply, and followed him to a less-crowded area near the windows, taking a quick glance to mark Robbie’s location in the process.
“Did you enjoy speaking with Baron du Pays, Miss Blackhouse? He is the French vice-consul in Egypt.”
“Oh—is he indeed?” It wanted only this; Hattie had probably launched an international incident by her snub, but surely a vice-consul shouldn’t be consorting with burglars. As if on cue, the vice-consul came over to join them, although this time he was not accompanied by the aforesaid burglar, which was just as well, as Hattie may have felt it necessary to dress him down and she was truly trying to control her temper.
With an air of extreme interest, her host crossed his arms over his bemedaled chest and rocked back on his heels. “If you would, Miss Blackhouse, tell me more of the curse; could it be the wrath of the ancients, visited upon those who disturb their legacy?”
“One can only wonder,” Hattie replied, as diplomatically as she was able. She barely refrained from muttering a curse herself—one that Robbie himself had taught her. How anyone could believe that lifeless objects could be “cursed” was beyond her comprehension, but the superstitious were a stubborn breed and—apparently—could be found at the highest levels of diplomacy, which told its own tale. She glanced sidelong at Robbie, and saw that he was conferring with the self-assured gentleman who had been watching her; Robbie then lifting his head to glance with surprise in her direction. Which was rather strange; why would the gentleman know that it was Robbie she sought out? Bing surreptitiously touched her elbow to draw her attention back to the conversation, and with an effort, Hattie pulled her gaze back to the ambassador’s magnified eye.
“…and the tomb with no clue as to the princess’s identity. Extraordinary.”
For two pins, Hattie would have asked why any rational person would feel this topic was of the least importance, but so as not to embarrass poor Bing she attempted to refocus; after all, the ambassador was her host and she should not allow Robbie to think she was incapable of deporting herself in diplomatic circles. Although it was a dull group, truth be told, and it was hard to believe the intrepid boy next door had willingly chosen this sort of life. “It is believed she was the daughter of some famous pharaoh,” offered Hattie vaguely, stealing a glance toward Robbie as he made his way toward her. Oddly enough, he had the blond woman in tow—she was quite old—at least thirty, if she was a day. Perhaps the woman required his support due to her advanced age.
“Seti,” murmured Bing behind her in an undertone.
“The Great Seti,” added Hattie smoothly. “The god-king; presumably her father.”
The ambassador leaned forward, his expression avid at having gleaned such an intriguing scrap of information to tout to his fellow aficionados. “Indeed? And have your parents discovered why a princess’s tomb was found in the Valley of the Kings? The only female to be found—most unusual.”
At this juncture, Robbie arrived and greeted her with astonishment. “Hattie, by all that’s holy—however did you come to be here?” As he turned to explain their acquaintanceship to their host, Hattie realized she couldn’t very well confess that she had come to Paris for the express purpose of trying to convince him to marry her, and with this in mind she retreated to a less-crazed explanation. “I came to visit my parents, Robbie.”