Daughter of the God-King(34)

“The ship does roll about so, it is a small wonder you lost your footing,” Bing offered with sympathy as tea was served. “Do you require medical attention, Monsieur Berry?”

“I have been attended to in the most satisfactory fashion,” Berry replied. “And what of you? How do you go on, Mademoiselle Bing?”

“I am recovering—I am fortunate the captain shared his remedy.”

“As are we all,” Berry agreed.

Not to be outdone, Hattie turned to Captain Clements. “Do you experience any problems from the sharing of such close quarters? I imagine fights must break out between the men from time to time.”

If the captain found the question odd, he gave no indication, instead reassuring her, “We do have a brig, but fortunately there are few problems—only the occasional contretemps. Nothing to cause concern, Miss Blackhouse.”

But Berry was not so sanguine, and offered a caution. “The close quarters may inspire a different sort of problem and you must have a care, mademoiselle; sailors are rough men, unaccustomed to well-bred young women. You would not want to risk being accosted on deck.”

Bing was shocked. “I am certain no one would dare, Monsieur Berry.”

“Unimaginable.” Hattie managed in a stifled tone.

“Egypt is another matter, however,” the captain warned. “The tenets of civilized behavior are often disregarded, particularly in the remoter areas.” With a proprietary gesture, he covered Hattie’s hand with his own large one. “Promise me you will be very careful.”

Hattie smiled to reassure him. “I will. And Monsieur Berry has agreed to provide an escort, which is much appreciated.”

“D’accord.” Berry’s gaze rested for the barest moment on the captain’s hand on her own, and Hattie casually withdrew it; no need to instigate another brawl.

But the other man continued to evidence a proprietary interest in Hattie, leaning so as to place his arm across the back of the bench behind her. “Where will you travel after Cairo, Miss Blackhouse? Perhaps I will delay my return so as to provide an additional escort—I can’t think of a more agreeable duty call.”

But Hattie didn’t wish to be constantly sorting out her suitors, and so answered vaguely, “I suppose that depends—I shall first speak to my parents’ solicitor and discover from him what is best to be done.”

It seemed to Hattie that the captain’s gaze sharpened. “Well then, be aware that I stand at the ready to assist you in any way necessary.”

“Thank you—I am truly grateful for so many supporters.” Not so much supporters as importuners, she thought with a twinge of annoyance—although she could not claim to dislike Berry’s importunings—hopefully she was slated to receive another dose very soon. She addressed Berry so as to divert him; he had watched her exchange with the good captain with a noted lack of enthusiasm. “Do you have any suggestions as to where we should stay in Cairo when we make port?”

The gentleman bowed his head. “It would be my pleasure to arrange for rooms at the Hotel Corsica, which caters to European visitors.”

“Ah—the Hotel Corsica; a fine place. Will Mademoiselle Leone be joining you, monsieur?” The captain’s question directed to Berry seemed a little pointed.

There was the barest hesitation before Berry replied. “I am not yet privy to Mademoiselle Leone’s final plans.”

The captain leaned in toward Bing and Hattie, cocking an eyebrow with a conspiratorial air. “A dear friend of his.” He made it clear there was more to the relationship then mere friendship.

“Indeed,” Berry agreed, meeting Hattie’s interested gaze. “A dear friend from my hometown—in France.”

“How fortuitous,” she responded in a neutral tone. “France is a fine place of origin.”

The captain chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Shall we take a turn on deck, Hathor?” Bing had apparently decided to call a halt to the competition for Hattie’s attention.

“Of course.” Hattie rose immediately; contrite that she had been so busy enjoying her unspoken conversation with Berry that she had forgotten her companion’s precarious state of health. “If you will excuse us, gentlemen.” Bestowing a dimpled smile on both men, Hattie took Bing’s arm as they exited the galley to reemerge into the bright, breezy sunlight on deck.

“I feared fisticuffs would soon break out,” Bing confessed as they walked the deck, “and I’d as lief not have Monsieur Berry secured in the brig.”

But Hattie disagreed in a thoughtful tone. “I don’t think so, Bing—I didn’t sense any real rancor; it was as though they were both playacting.”