Daughter of the God-King(65)
“Asyut, perhaps,” guessed Bing. “It is difficult to discern with so few landmarks along this stretch of the Nile.”
“If I may be of help, ladies,” said Smithson from behind them. “I have just returned from the wheelhouse and the captain informs me we come to Girgeh within the hour.”
“Excellent,” said Bing with a nod. “I believe we are ahead of schedule.”
She and the vicar moved toward a hanging lantern to examine his map, and Hattie leaned on the railing with her forearms, listening to their voices and the lapping of the water against the hull. Berry materialized beside her with gratifying promptness, and taking a quick glance about, lifted her hand to kiss the knuckles.
“Bonne nuit,” she said with a delighted smile.
“Très bonne,” he agreed, his gaze on her upturned face. Everything has changed, she noted with a jolt of pure happiness; he no longer attempted to shutter his emotions when they were alone.
“What did you discover at the consulate?”
“Hattie,” he remonstrated, his head bent close to hers. “That is not very romantic.”
I should tell him that I love him, she thought with some nervousness, gazing into the brown eyes that held such tenderness. He told me, and it is only fair. However, as she had never said the words before she felt ridiculously awkward and could not quite bring herself to do it.
The moment passed and he indicated Bing. “Any progress with the senet board?”
“Now who is unromantic?” she teased, and ran her fingers lightly across the back of his hand, which caused a gratifying intake of breath as he moved closer to murmur in her ear.
“Do not, I beg of you—I do not dare kiss you for fear Monsieur Tremaine will call me out.”
Hattie had little doubt who would prevail should such an event occur, but instead said with mock severity, “It is just as well—I have decided there will be a price for these kisses I have given so freely.”
Chuckling, he turned and leaned back against the rail, looking down upon her. “I will pay any price,” he declared, which she considered a very satisfactory answer.
“You must tell me something about yourself—that is the price.”
He smiled, glancing up at the stars. “What is it you wish to know?”
She shrugged lightly in her best imitation of Eugenie. “I don’t know—anything you are willing to tell me, I suppose. Do you like dogs?” Hattie had never owned a dog but she adored the Tremaines’ dogs.
Eyes gleaming, he brought his chin down. “I have four dogs.”
Very pleased with this bit of information, she laughed, “Four? Isn’t that excessive?”
“No.” He smiled back at her. “They hunt with me.”
“Oh.” She considered. “Are they allowed in the house?”
“They are not small,” he explained. “I do not argue with them.”
Laughing, she had to quieten when Bing and the vicar looked up from their conversation.
“So now I have told you four things,” he noted, his gaze focused on her mouth.
“I believe that only counts as one,” she disagreed in a pert tone.
“Four,” he repeated firmly, leaning in to whisper next to her ear. “I shall keep an account.”
Hattie’s compliant chaperone had apparently decided enough was enough and she returned to her charge’s side. “Shall we play cards?” Bing asked. “It would be a means to pass the time.”
“Certainly,” agreed Berry, and Hattie was given to understand that a game of cards was not the true object of this request.
“What shall you play?” asked Smithson hopefully. “I am rather fond of cards.”
Without missing a beat, Bing invited the vicar to join them and they made their way to the dining room. After having determined that they would play whist, the four settled in while Hattie hoped the vicar would not stay long—she was tired from her late night the night before.
As the cards were dealt, Berry said, “You are a military man, I believe.” Hattie looked up in surprise; Smithson did not appear so to her.
“Indeed,” the other agreed. “I was a chaplain with the 3rd Division on the Peninsula.”
Berry nodded. “You saw heavy action, then.”
“Yes,” the man sighed. “Unfortunately my services were much in demand.”
The players took up their cards. “You were under the command of Le Marchant?”
“No,” the other corrected, “General Picton—and Colonel William Merryfield was my commanding officer.”
Berry is testing him, thought Hattie as she studied her cards. Because in his mysterious business, you do not trust anyone and the good vicar suddenly seeks our company.