Daughter of the God-King(46)

The mechanical fan slowly turned overhead as the players set up the pieces, and Hafez asked, “Did the intruder come away with any personal items, Miss Blackhouse?”

For the love of heaven, Hattie thought; not another one. “No—nothing was taken.” To turn the subject and boost Bing’s stock, she added, “Miss Bing fired her pistol at him and he retreated in disarray.”

While Bing blushed and disclaimed, Hattie listened to Hafez’s professions of admiration and wondered why he had asked the question—perhaps he was yet another searcher for the mysterious strongbox, which she should probably try to examine before any further ruckuses ensued. With an inward sigh, she recognized that she would be forced to trust someone soon and very much wished to follow her inclination to trust he-who-was-not-named-Berry. Although perhaps the minister could be trusted—presumably he sought only what was best for her parents and for Egypt. Berry did not seem to think this the best tack, but then again, Berry may be attempting to throw dust in her eyes. Reminded, she asked, “Are you aware of the tragic news with respect to Madame Auguste, Mr. Hafez?”

Taking his gaze from the board, the minister looked up at her in surprise. “No—what is the news?”

“I’m afraid she died recently in Paris—rather suddenly.”

The minister stared at her in dismay and Hattie decided his surprise was genuine. She continued, “I am so sorry—I understand you were acquainted with the lady and her late husband.”

“Yes, indeed—a tragedy—a terrible tragedy.” He uttered the words in sincere sorrow and dropped his gaze, much affected. “Such fine people.”

“Who has replaced Monsieur Auguste as your Ministry’s liaison with the Blackhouses?” asked Bing. Hattie thought it a good question, as whoever was willing to replace the decedent would be very brave indeed, given all the deaths piling up.

Heaving a huge sigh, the minister replied, “No one—he was irreplaceable.”

As this seemed overly dramatic, Hattie offered, “At least no one is needed just now, while the dig is at a standstill.”

But the man disagreed, turning to her to explain. “Oh no, Miss Blackhouse; in his absence there are competing interests who are all bringing pressure to bear. If only he was still with us—he excelled at negotiation.”

Hattie was going to inquire as to the nature of the negotiations when she sensed a presence next to her and looked up to behold Berry, who had materialized at her side. She was certain he hadn’t entered via the front door but it hardly mattered—he was finally here and at long last, was regarding her with an expression of undisguised warmth. Unable to suppress a smile, she decided that there was nothing like an attempted abduction to remind a gentleman of opportunities wasted. After greeting him in a distracted fashion, the chess players settled back into their game and Hattie sidled close to Berry so they could converse unheard—and so her arm could brush up against his.

“Do you play?” He gestured toward the board.

Dimpling up at him, she answered with some pertness, “Very well. And you?”

He tilted his head and echoed her words. “Very well.”

“Perhaps we should play each other, then.”

“You would have the advantage—I would be unable to concentrate.” His gaze rested on her mouth and held such a measure of meaning she had to look away for a moment so as to control her unbridled delight; it appeared a glimpse of her nightdress had created an impatience for further intimacies—and not a moment too soon.

“Are you recovered?” He brushed a covert finger across the back of her hand.

With a frisson of anticipation, she could feel her color rise. “Completely—a few bruises, is all.”

Smiling down into her eyes, he suggested in a low voice, “Then perhaps we could walk in the courtyard and leave the players to their game.”

The hotel had four wings that surrounded a central courtyard; surely there could be no objection to an unattended stroll so close to hand. “Let me inform Bing.” Having relayed the information to her compliant companion, she took his arm.

“You will need your parasol, I think,” he warned. “It is quite hot.”

Pleased by his protective attitude, she assured him she would return in a moment, and ascended the stairway to the second floor. Walking swiftly down the hall to her room, she inserted the key and entered to walk across to the closet where her parasol was housed. With a gasp, she drew up short. Berry stood on her balcony, leaning on the rail and smiling at her through the open French doors.

She had to laugh with delight at the feat. “How on earth did you do that?”