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Daughter of the God-King(48)

By:Anne Cleeland


Hattie responded in the same low tone. “Yes. Bing will release no secrets.”

“Eh bien, what is it you two speak of?” Eugenie interrupted with a pretty pout, tapping her silk fan on Berry’s wrist. “Napoleon’s horse?”

Berry turned and responded with a few rapid words in colloquial French that Hattie could not follow but which caused Eugenie to subside into silence, pouting. Interesting, thought Hattie as she turned to speak with Bing so as to cover the awkward moment. I believe Eugenie works for Berry—or at least she answers to him, and I believe he wishes me to be aware of this; I wonder what her role is in these events. For that matter, I wonder what my role is—other than to produce the missing strongbox and bear a striking resemblance to the god-king’s daughter. She met Berry’s glance for a moment. And to convince this gentleman that a bachelor’s lot is inferior to other options available.

“Mademoiselle Bing,” said Berry, “I wonder if Mademoiselle Leone and I may be allowed to escort Mademoiselle Blackhouse to the British Consul General’s offices today; if we are to travel to Thebes there are certain arrangements that must be made and I believe it will expedite the process if the Blackhouse daughter is present.”

“Wouldn’t you rather visit the French consul?” asked Hattie. Considering he was pretending to be French, he should at least make the effort.

But he explained patiently, “It would be best if you were the supplicant—your heritage is a powerful influence.”

Bing saw the wisdom of this. “Very well—if Miss Blackhouse has no objection.”

Hattie very much appreciated that Bing always made it clear that Hattie decided her affairs for herself. “Where is the consulate located?”

“In Old City, by the Nile—it is probably best to go as soon as we can make ready so as to avoid the midday sun.”

“Willingly,” agreed Hattie, who then had another notion. “As I will be taken care of, Bing, perhaps another attempt to visit the pyramids is in order—could you send a note ’round to Mr. Hafez?”

Bing was enthusiastic and expressed her desire to make the visit even if Hafez was unavailable. “I asked the desk clerk, who tells me there is nearly always a daily group making the tour and that I may join in with no difficulty.”

“Who is this Mr. Hafez?” asked Eugenie, her porcelain brow knit.

Hattie explained, “The Minister of Antiquities—he and Miss Bing have found in each other a kindred spirit.”

In reaction, the other girl seemed surprised and cast a swift glance at Berry, who did not meet her gaze. “I see,” she offered in a doubtful tone.

“Where do you hail from, Mademoiselle Leone?” This from Bing, whom Hattie suspected was attempting to turn the subject from her relationship with Hafez.

“Martinique,” the young woman replied, her blue eyes guileless.

Intrigued, Bing raised her brows. “Indeed? I understand the Empress Josephine hailed from Martinique. Are you acquainted with the family?”

“Indeed,” the girl replied in an arch tone, and Hattie entertained a suspicion that she was mocking Bing, which seemed rather unkind.

“And you are acquainted with Captain Clements, I understand.” Bing persevered with what to Hattie seemed admirable patience.

“C’est vrai,” the beauty agreed, laughing at the memory. “He was so kind as to abduct me, once; but as I was very much in need of an abduction, I forgave him.”

“Admirable,” offered Bing in a neutral tone, and asked no further questions.

But Hattie was made of sterner stuff and took up the mantle. “And how are you acquainted with Monsieur Berry, mademoiselle?”

Her eyes dancing, Eugenie turned to him and asked, “Shall I say?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation.

“I cannot say.” She smiled and shook her golden curls. “But be assured it is nothing scandaleux.” Slyly, her eyes slid to Hattie, who could feel herself color up and did not dignify the implication with a response.

“Mademoiselle Leone will accompany us to Thebes,” Berry announced as though the girl was not trouble personified. “She has never been.”

“No, and I look forward to it above all things.” Smiling up at him, the Frenchwoman wound her arm around his in a provocative manner.

“It will be a new experience for Miss Bing and myself, also.” Hattie was unaffected by the other’s attempt to get her goat—this particular goat was hers. She could almost feel sorry for the girl; it must be very annoying to a beauty of Eugenie’s caliber to have to cede the field.