Daughter of the God-King(55)
Alarmed, Hattie bade him to sit but he declined, saying, “I am afraid I cannot stay. But your status must remain unsettled for the time being; I regret to report your parents’ solicitor—Mr. Bahur—has been killed.”
Hattie stared and was aware, for reasons she could not state, that this was not news to Berry. “Why—how terrible,” she exclaimed, thinking of the earnest clerk—her would-be suitor—and hoping he would not suffer any hardship as a result. Oh, she thought suddenly—oh, God in heaven—the parcel. “Do we know what happened?”
Mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, the minister lamented, “He stayed late at his offices last night and was assaulted—the premises ransacked. It will be nearly impossible to piece together the contents so as to discover what is missing, if anything.”
“A tragedy,” said Eugenie, placing a slender hand on the minister’s sleeve. For the first time, Hafez seemed to notice her. “Mademoiselle Leone,” offered Hattie in introduction. “And I believe you have already met Mr. Tremaine.”
“How do you do?” he bowed to Eugenie, then nodded to Robbie. “May I leave a note for Miss Bing, Miss Blackhouse? I fear I will be busy on the morrow and cannot escort her to the Priapus as planned.”
“Please—I shall see to it that she receives it.”
After he performed this service, Hattie noted that her fellow diners seemed disinclined to discuss this latest development, which seemed a bit odd, and so she ventured, “I had no idea that Cairo was such a dangerous place.”
“I will book a passage to Thebes tomorrow,” Robbie announced, and placed his hand over Hattie’s on the table to reassure her. “Rest easy, Hattie; I will see to your safety.”
“I appreciate it, Robbie.” Hattie slid her hand away, fearing Berry’s wineglass would be snapped in two.
The dinner party broke up and Hattie slowly ascended to her room, thinking about Robbie’s arrival along with this latest death and hoping that her poor clerk would not meet a similar fate. There seemed little doubt that someone sinister was after her parcel—after all, nearly everyone she met coveted the miserable strongbox; whatever could it contain to inspire such bloodlust? Hopefully, even if he were questioned it wouldn’t occur to the clerk to mention the parcel, as he believed it to be an innocent set of books. I must discover what is inside, she thought, and that will determine what I am to do.
Deep in her abstraction, she didn’t realize Berry had followed her down the hallway until he appeared at her side. “Bonne nuit,” he said, taking her hand and holding it in his.
“Bonne nuit,” she replied, smiling despite her worries.
“Come—walk with me.” There was a world of promise in the invitation; the brown eyes intent upon hers.
Feeling reckless, she took his arm. “Only for a few minutes,” she warned, thinking of her chaperone, who undoubtedly had the lamp lit against her return. After escorting her to the far end of the hallway, Berry then led her down the servants’ stairs and into an alcove located beneath the stairway that afforded some measure of privacy. It was dimly lit by a sconce burning on the wall, and Hattie’s heartbeat accelerated in pleasurable anticipation—at long last they would be alone and undisturbed.
Turning to take hold of both her hands in his, he bent his head and confessed in a low voice, “I seek a private moment with you, Hattie—as of tomorrow we will not have many opportunities.”
Anticipating a declaration, she met his gaze, enrapt, then heard whispered voices approaching. Berry drew her back into the shadows and they beheld Robbie and Eugenie, arm in arm, coming to the back stairway in a breathless hurry. Robbie paused to kiss his companion thoroughly and Eugenie wholeheartedly complied, giggling when he released her. They then ascended upward, presumably to the privacy of a room.
Hattie stood with Berry for a moment in the ensuing silence. “That was not well done of you,” she said quietly.
Chapter 23
There was a pause. Berry did not deny the machination, but said only, “He was not unwilling.”
“I should go.” She turned to leave.
His expression intent, he caught her arm to stop her. “Look, I am sorry; I was angry because he pretends that you belong to him.”
She lifted her chin. “I belong to no one.”
His jaw clenched, he lowered his gaze to the floor and did not respond. Half hoping for an argument, Hattie saw she was not going to get one and to cover her disappointment, she explained in a constrained voice, “He is my oldest friend and I will not allow you to disparage him. His family”—she paused; you are not going to cry, she assured herself—“his family allowed me to join in with them.”