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Daughter of the God-King(59)

By:Anne Cleeland


Lost in his eyes she paused, wondering if she was being foolish, trusting him because he said he loved her and it was so very nice to be loved. “Why did you steal the key from the British consulate?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I must discover how much is known.”

“Aren’t your interests the same as England’s?” She realized the thought had been niggling around the corners of her mind ever since their visit—perhaps he and Eugenie served the enemy; he was pretending to be French and Eugenie seemed genuinely French.

Patiently, he explained, “I believe you know what this business of mine is—in this business, it is best to trust no one. Many have died as a result of trusting an ally who was not, in fact, an ally.”

This made sense, she supposed. “The British do know something. Robbie—is Robbie in your business, also?”

“Perhaps,” was all he would say.

“Robbie asked me if I knew of a strongbox.”

His brows drew together. “Did he indeed?”

“I’m not certain it is a strongbox,” she clarified. “I haven’t opened it up yet—but it seems likely.”

“No, it is not a strongbox; but I would very much like to see it immediately.”

“As you wish.” She hoped she wasn’t being an imbecile, herself. Glancing up at him as they made their way up the stairway she took a quick breath. “I would rather Bing didn’t know about my parents.”

With emphasis, he met her eyes. “Do not tell anyone of any of this, Hattie—even Mademoiselle Bing. I will have your promise.”

“Not to worry,” she assured him in an ironic tone. “You have it.”

As they hurried down the hallway toward her room she observed, “It hardly seems fair—I am expected to tell you everything, yet you tell me nothing in return.”

“Believe me—you are better off.”

She subsided and they walked together for a few steps in silence. “I have a sister,” he offered.

Smiling, she turned to regard him, walking sideways to keep up with his long strides. “Do you? Older or younger?”

“Younger. She is wed, and has a little boy.”

Delighted with this insight, she replied, “How lovely.”

Taking her hand, he lifted it to kiss her knuckles. “Perhaps you will meet them soon.”

Their eyes met, and she thought—yes, I would very much like to meet them and I don’t very much care where they are, as long as I am with him; I sincerely hope he is what he seems and is not my enemy.

Once in her room, Hattie tiptoed past the sleeping Bing and carefully lifted the parcel from the interior of the wardrobe. With some stealth, she carried it out to the hallway where Berry took a quick look around and then pulled her into his adjacent room and shut the door behind them. I am lost to all propriety, she thought without much regret, and wondered if she had the wherewithal to resist a seduction if he were bent on such. However, it seemed that the pleasures of the flesh were the last thing on the man’s mind as he deposited the package on the bed, turning up the lamplight to scrutinize it carefully. “How did you come to have this?”

Thinking about it, Hattie replied, “I’d rather not say. But I believe it was sent to me by my parents and misdelivered.”

As he unwrapped the parcel, she watched over his shoulder, holding her breath. Beneath the wrapping was revealed a brass casket of some sort, bound in twine. With a pocketknife, he sawed at the twine and opened the casket to reveal a wooden object—a board of approximately ten inches by five, mounted on short wooden legs. Berry sat back on his haunches and made a sound of satisfaction. “The senet board.”

Knitting her brow, Hattie remembered Bing’s reference. “A game board? For the love of heaven; all of this trouble for a game board?”

Handling it gently, he picked it up and examined it. “There should be playing pieces.” Carefully, his long fingers palpated the base of the board.

Hattie picked up the brass casket. “Could this be them?” Lining the floor of the casket were small flat disks, each about the size of a ha’pence.

Berry plucked one out and examined the engravings on it next to the lamplight. “Hieroglyphics,” he pronounced, frustrated. “I cannot translate.”

“Can you tell me the significance? Or why my parents would send it to me, of all people?” Aware he may not wish to tell her, she couched the words respectfully and considered leaning over so that her breasts brushed against him, but it turned out that such tactics were unnecessary.

“They put together a map to show the location of the secret chamber in the event they were stricken with fever or injured—any variety of things that could happen in this part of the world.”