Daughter of the God-King(49)

But Eugenie’s beautiful brow puckered in confusion. “Surely you have visited Thebes before?” She glanced at Berry in puzzlement.

Wondering why the woman would seek verification from Berry, Hattie assured her, “No—I have never been.” She tamped down the resentment that always threatened to rise when she thought of her long exile in the wilds of Cornwall—there was no point to it; her parents were no longer persons to be resented—they were persons to be recovered and buried.

“I believe,” Bing said into the silence, “that Mr. Hafez intends to accompany us, also.”

“Très bon,” murmured Eugenie, examining her nails with a satisfied smile.

“We shall have quite a group, then.” Hattie wondered crossly if every stray guest at the hotel was going to latch on to their expedition; every addition undoubtedly meant fewer opportunities for Berry to kiss her neck—not that she should allow such liberties in the first place—but it was all very annoying.

“Shall we meet in the lobby in an hour’s time?” asked Berry, rising.

Taking their cue, the breakfast party broke up and Hattie retreated with Bing to their room to prepare for their respective outings. Hafez sent an acceptance with gratifying promptness and Hattie teased her, “Pray do not elope with him, Bing—I insist upon standing up with you at the church door.”

Bing displayed her dry smile as she pinned her veiled hat carefully to her head. “I do not think it is I who is slated to receive an offer, Hathor.”

Disclaiming, Hattie teased in a light tone, “Alas for any such hopes; the beautiful Mademoiselle Leone has entered the lists.”

“You may be certain of him,” Bing assured her with a nod toward the mirror. “His gaze is drawn to you, especially when you are unaware.”

Finding this revelation very satisfactory, Hattie said only, “It is early days yet, Bing—we shall see.”

Taking up her parasol and her notebook, Bing made ready to depart. “I hope to return for dinner, Hathor, if all goes as planned.”

“I shall hear of your adventures at that time, then.” Hattie closed the door and prepared for the proposed outing to the consulate, trying to decide if she could pretend she forgot her kid gloves, which were uncomfortably hot. As she was thus engaged, there was a soft knock at the door. Smiling, she took a quick assessing glance in the mirror, pinched color into her cheeks, and opened the door with her best smile.

Instead of the expected visitor, however, she beheld a message boy from the front desk. “Miss Blackhouse? You have a visitor at the desk who begs a moment of your time.”

He handed her a card upon which was inscribed a name Hattie did not recognize. She debated for only a moment, and decided there was no harm to it; her attacker could not possibly have come to call upon her and she would certainly be safe in the hotel lobby.

Accompanied by the boy, she descended to the desk only to recognize the young clerk from the solicitor’s office waiting at the desk for her and smiling nervously. “Miss Blackhouse,” he stammered. “I hope I do not intrude.”

“Not at all,” she assured him, offering her hand. “How very pleasant to see you again.” She hid a smile—he had taken pains with his appearance and was dressed in what she imagined was his best suit of clothes.

Indicating the wrapped parcel on the counter, he offered, “I took the liberty of bringing your books.”

As she had already indicated she was not looking to house them, Hattie correctly surmised this was an excuse to call upon her. Unsure of how to handle such earnest devotion, she was loath to snub him—he was far too young, being approximately her own age. “Does your employer know of your errand?”

“No,” the young man admitted. He leaned toward her to confide, “He has been out of reason cross ever since your visit, and is often from the premises.”

“I have done you a favor, then,” observed Hattie, and he laughed as though she had said something very amusing.

Making a visible effort, the young man gathered up his courage. “Perhaps—perhaps you would be available to go out walking this evening, Miss Blackhouse.”

Anticipating just such a question, Hattie shook her head with feigned regret. “As tempting as the invitation is, I’m afraid I am constrained by my parents’ disappearance—I cannot be seen to participate in such an enjoyable pastime.”

His face fell but he nodded in understanding. “I hadn’t thought—I beg your pardon.”

“It is quite all right,” she said sincerely. “I do appreciate the offer.”