“Indeed?” Bing raised her brows, thinking about it. “How odd.”
“Yes,” Hattie agreed, and decided to keep her new-hatched theories about Berry and the captain to herself, for the time being.
They came to the stern and turned to make another circuit around the deck when Bing observed, “Here’s one who wishes to speak with you uncontested. Shall I allow it?”
Hattie looked up to see Berry approaching in a purposeful fashion, his hands clasped behind his back. “If you would, Bing,” and thought her a very satisfactory chaperone.
And so it came to pass that once again she leaned on the railing beside Berry, the sun and the breeze only adding to her delight in this turn of events while her cooperative companion found something of interest to view from the opposite deck. It soon became evident, however, that a light flirtation was not what the gentleman had in mind. Meeting her eyes very seriously, he spoke without preamble.
“Mademoiselle Blackhouse, I must beg your pardon, and assure you the events of last night will not be repeated. You are without protectors at present, and I should not have taken advantage of you in such a way.”
Primming her mouth, Hattie replied, “I can only agree—I have little experience in such pastimes and felt I was at an extreme disadvantage.”
Looking out over the sea, he suppressed a smile. “Hattie—allow me to make my apology.”
“I beg your pardon,” she said gravely. “Pray continue.”
He bent his head for a moment, then added, “It would be best, perhaps, if such an opportunity did not arise again.”
“Yes,” she sighed with some regret. “It would be best, I suppose.”
“I meant no insult,” he explained, watching her. “The opposite, in fact.”
She met his gaze in all sincerity and smiled. “I know it; we shall cry friends and not speak of it again.”
Nodding, he looked away toward the sea again. Five days, she thought, keeping her expression carefully neutral—five days before he is seeking more kisses—six at the most. She had noted during his carefully rehearsed speech that he was unable to keep his gaze from resting on her mouth. Hiding a smile, she thought of it as an interesting paradox—she knew next to nothing about him but nonetheless, felt she knew him very well indeed.
He added suddenly, “Miss Leone is not what she will appear to be.”
“I am unsurprised,” she responded mildly. “No one is, apparently.”
Responding to her tone, he turned to her. “I must ask again that you trust me; you will come to no harm at my hands.”
She arched a dark brow. “No, I hold no grudge against your very capable hands.”
A smile played around his mouth while he bent his head to chide her, “I thought we weren’t to speak of it again.”
“Your pardon,” she offered, contrite. “I forget myself.”
They stood together for a moment, his gaze stubbornly fixed on the deck. Since he seemed unable to move away from her, she asked, “Whose secrets do you hold? If you hold my parents’ secrets, then why can you not tell me of them?”
“Hattie,” he said softly, the brown eyes raised to hers. “It is best you not know, believe me.”
“I would like to judge for myself whether it is best,” she countered. “Were my parents double-dealing? Is that why they were killed?”
Ah, this hit home and his eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
Watching him, she revealed what she had discovered. “They were negotiating in secret with the British, I am told. I imagine Muhammad Ali would have been most displeased with such a development, if he found out about it.” Belatedly, she realized her source had been Bing’s Edward, and perhaps she shouldn’t be giving away state secrets—or at least not until she knew what was what.
Nodding, he dropped his gaze again. “It is possible,” he admitted in a neutral tone.
I did not tell him what he feared I would, she thought in surprise, and thought back over what she had just said. It was the reference to double-dealing—I startled him, at first; but why? With whom else would they be double-dealing, if not the British?
Berry lifted his head. “Once in Cairo, I would ask a favor; I would ask that you accompany me to question those who may have information but are reluctant to speak.”
She blinked, but could see no harm in it and indeed, would look forward to such an outing in his company. “Willingly. Because I would have their sympathy?”
He tilted his head to the side in a now-familiar gesture. “That. And remember that you appear to them as the god-king’s daughter.”