Daughter of the God-King(81)

“The Ramesseum,” Robbie decided. “I mentioned to some friends we may make a tour this morning.”

“You have acquaintances among the locals?” Hattie regarded him with an amused arch to her brow, well aware that this was a fish tale—she could read him like a book. Hopefully, whatever scheme he was hatching didn’t involve yet another suitor for Bing—it was already hard enough to keep track.

“Friends who are with the British consul’s office,” he explained in a casual manner. “I met them when I was last here.”

“With your bride,” added Hattie, ruthlessly needling him.

Robbie met her gaze, a playful light in his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I did meet my bride at the British consul’s office.”

“Such high romance,” she remarked, and quirked her mouth.

“Indeed.” He then grinned in a way not at all in keeping with a bereft bridegroom.

Shaking her head in amused disapproval, Hattie resolved to get the full story from him before the outing was over—she had been distracted by other matters, otherwise she would have done so before now. How extraordinary that Robbie’s strange betrothal had slipped so much in significance, the other matters being much more compelling—to the good and otherwise.

“Are you betrothed, Mr. Tremaine? My congratulations.” The vicar offered his hand as they waited for the ferry.

Taking it, Robbie explained with a rueful smile, “I’m afraid the engagement was short-lived.” There was a pause, and Hattie had to bite her lip.

“Hard luck,” said the other. “Better luck next time.” Smithson’s gaze rested for the briefest moment on Hattie.

But I will never be a bride, thought Hattie, watching the ferry’s approach and pretending not to notice the byplay. With sad resignation, she examined this aspect of her life now that she was coming to terms with the cataclysmic news of yesterday. As a little girl, one never pinned one’s hopes on becoming a mistress, but an adjustment was now necessary, given the circumstances. Fortunately, she knew down to her bones that Berry loved her and would treat her well—hopefully till death did them part. Still, she decided not to dwell on it until she became more accustomed to the idea.

They were ferried across the river to the opposite shore with several local residents, two goats, and a thin little dog Hattie leaned down to pat, thinking of the four dogs with whom Berry didn’t argue. The man was going to be tiresome about trying to marry her—she could sense it—and he was one who did not give up easily; they were very similar in nature, the two of them. But while his dogs may not care about the circumstances of her birth, his sister certainly would and Hattie knew she must remain resolute. I wish I knew where they lived, she thought; perhaps it is in some corner of the world that has never heard of the Elban prisoner. Unfortunately, this seemed unlikely.

With a smile, Robbie leaned back on the bench and watched her with the dog. “What is my mother planning to do with Sophie’s pups?”

Hattie ceased her attentions, but the dog pushed its muzzle into her hands, insistent, and so she began to stroke it again. “It was too soon when I left; but last time she took them to church in a box and they were all claimed in short order.”

“She’d probably rather keep them, knowing Mother.”

Hattie laughed, and agreed. “But your father will be firm, being as he always complains that the place is already a menagerie.”

Robbie chuckled, and looked out over the broad river. “I will check for letters tomorrow, although the post is unreliable here. Are you homesick for England, yet?”

“I miss your family,” she replied truthfully. Henceforth she would never long for a place, only for a person.

Bending beside her to run his hand along the dog’s back, he added, “We will have to tell everyone about your sad news, unfortunately. I wish we had more to tell.”

“I sometimes wonder if we will ever find out what happened to them.” If indeed her parents had been killed for double-dealing, it seemed unlikely the dark deed would ever come to light, which—all in all—may be a good thing; one less unsavory connection to face down, and any crumb of comfort would be appreciated at this point. It was hard to believe that as late as last month she had been chafing about the sameness of her days.

“We will.” Robbie’s hand covered hers on the dog, and his voice was gentle. “We will find them, Hattie. Someone must know something.”

Hattie nodded, then casually removed her hand and sat up again. She would have to let Robbie know there was to be no future between them, although it may be an awkward conversation as she was not at all certain he saw himself as a potential suitor. Nevertheless, the conversation must take place; he-who-was-not-Daniel was a possessive man.