Home>>read Daughter of the God-King free online

Daughter of the God-King(80)

By:Anne Cleeland


The brush paused. “Does he indeed?”

“Perhaps you would condescend to spend some time with the poor man,” Hattie teased. “Unless you believe Mr. Hafez would come to cuffs with him.”

“I am not here to entertain gentlemen,” Bing said with some severity, and resumed her task.

“I don’t know, Bing—best strike whilst the iron is hot.” Inspired, she added, “I may not be a charge upon you for much longer.”

“I must say I am not surprised, Hathor.” Bing was pleased; Hattie could hear it in her voice. Hattie hoped that Berry lived far enough away so that the truth of her position as a mistress and not a wife would never be revealed. Although she imagined Bing would not be shocked—she seemed impervious to shock. Which reminds me, thought Hattie; I must speak to Eugenie.

By the time the dinner bell rang, Hattie had recovered enough to present her normal face to her fellow diners although she could feel Berry’s concerned scrutiny. How wonderful it is to be loved, she thought—it requires one to be brave for the sake of the other. Subtle as a serpent, Hattie announced her intent to visit the Necropolis on the west bank the following morning, then noted to Smithson that she had heard there was an impressive Coptic chapel located quite near the ruins, if he would like to join in the excursion. Having obtained the vicar’s assent to this plan, she felt she’d done a good night’s work—if Hafez wished to extract himself from their group he would have no impediment.

After the meal, the men reviewed a map of the area while Hattie took the opportunity to invite Eugenie to take a stroll on deck. “I must ask a favor from you, if you do not mind.”

“What is it you wish?” Eugenie’s rosy mouth was sulking as they paused at the railing to look out over the darkened Nile. “I have been warned by someone that I am not to tease you.”

Hattie said with all sincerity, “I do not mind when you tease me, Eugenie—truly. But I am in need of some advice.”

Eugenie eyed her with suspicion. “What sort of advice?”

Now that the moment was here, Hattie found it more difficult than she had anticipated. “Well—I suppose you could say—advice about men.”

With some amusement, the other sought clarification. “Men, or what men do in bed?”

“What men do in bed,” Hattie admitted, her cheeks reddened.

“Bien sûr. After all, you need no advice about men.” A hint of resentment could be discerned in the other’s tone.

Hattie confessed, “I have no one to ask—about what is pleasing, I suppose.”

The other woman chuckled, and replied with some cynicism, “One need only be female and be present to be pleasing.”

Thinking that this was not going well, Hattie nodded and decided not to press the issue, turning to view the river instead.

Watching her, Eugenie relented. “Do you know how it all comes about, at least?”

“Yes,” said Hattie. “That is, I believe so,” she qualified.

And so Eugenie patiently explained the finer points of lovemaking while Hattie listened, equal parts shocked and fascinated. At one point she interrupted, “But, how can one make such an overture—wouldn’t he find it very strange?”

“There will be no protests made, believe me. And you must talk—praise, inquire, praise even more—although some men do not wish to talk,” she amended. “They are the least pleasing.”

“It all seems rather awkward,” Hattie admitted, grateful for the breeze on her cheeks.

But the other disagreed, shaking her curls. “When your heart is involved, it is simple—there is no awkward.” With a raised shoulder, she added, “Now go away, if you please. You make me feel très ancien.”





Chapter 33





The next morning dawned clear and hot as Hattie, Robbie, Bing, and Smithson prepared to cross the Nile so as to explore the Necropolis of ancient Thebes. Hafez was not in evidence and despite keeping a sharp eye, Hattie had yet to catch a glimpse of Berry this morning. In truth, she was rather surprised that Robbie had volunteered to come along; he was not one to be interested in ruins and she imagined that he would have his own mysterious errands to complete elsewhere—he also seemed rather preoccupied, now that the French visitors had made their appearance.

“The Ramesseum, or the Temple of Medinet?” asked Bing, referencing her guidebook as they strolled to the river bank. “Where should we like to start once we are across?”

“I must defer—I am afraid one ruin is very like another to me,” Smithson admitted with a small smile.