Page 14

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Four

Ellie leaned backin her chair as three ladies from Lady Sabita’s household staff cleared the table and set out little dishes of sweetened fennel seeds. As the light overhead fell into dusk, the courtyard around her warmed with lamplight.

“Mr. Forster-Mowbray is such a nice young man,” Sabita said with a significant look at her daughter.

Constance had just thrown a pinch of candied seeds into her mouth. She spoke through them in an aggrieved tone. “Mother!”

“No, Jhia—you mustn’t dismiss this one out of hand like all the others, especially now that we are here in Egypt,” Sabita retorted. “There are not so many eligible gentlemen here as there are in London, and I do not think that you have forgotten our little talk about the importance of putting some thought intosettling down—now have you?”

Constance’s mouth clamped shut at her mother’s words. The lack of response was so uncharacteristic, it left Ellie arching her eyebrows with surprise.

Across the table, Kumari Padma’s expression was serenely unreadable—but there was a keen, careful glint in her eyes as she watched her daughter and granddaughter.

“He has a very nice family,” Sabita continued in a more reasonable tone. “Very respectable, and none of the ladies here speak of him spending too much on the horses or—” She cast an awkward look over at Ellie. “Frequenting less reputable establishments.”

Ellie figured that ‘less reputable establishments’ was Lady Sabita’s polite way of referencing Cairo’s brothels. That Julian Forster-Mowbray didn’t utilize them or engage in an inveterate degree of gambling seemed a low bar for considering him a prospective son-in-law.

A door closed firmly from the direction of the entry. Heavy footsteps thudded along the balcony that lined the nearest wing of the house. Ellie looked up to see Adam Bates stalking past the open spaces between the meshrabiyeh screens, a snippet of his muttered monologue catching her ear.

“…dunno how a guy’s supposed to find a damned fountain when he needs one…” he grumbled before disappearing around the corner.

Another impatiently closing door punctuated his departure.

The three other women at the table stared up in the direction of Adam’s irritable parade. Lady Sabita was the first to recover. “All that I am saying is that you should not dismiss Mr. Forster-Mowbray out of hand.”

“Whatever would I do that for?” Constance’s words seemed casual, but Ellie could hear a note of steel running through them.

“Why indeed?” Padma fixed a thoughtful, diamond-sharp look on her granddaughter.

Constance paled a little. Ellie couldn’t entirely blame her for it. The silver-haired, jewel-draped princess at the table was not a force to be trifled with—and something in the kumari’s tone had held a thrill of danger.

“Now why don’t you show Ellie Jhia to her room?” Padma continued smoothly. “I am sure that she must be tired. She has had averylong journey to get to us.”

Padma punctuated her suggestion by shifting that dangerously astute look to Ellie—leaving her with the uncomfortable notion that somehow Constance’s grandmother knew exactly how long her journey had really been.

“Oh yes, Aai.” Constance hurriedly rose from her seat and hooked her arm through Ellie’s elbow, half-hauling her to her feet. “I’m sure she’s absolutely bushed. We’ll get you settled right in, won’t we?” She steered Ellie forcefully toward the stairs to the balcony. “Goodnight, Mum! Shubha ratri, Aai!”

Constance more or less shoved Ellie into the stairwell to the upper floors.

“I really am rather tired,” Ellie offered hopefully as Constance propelled her up the steps.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Constance retorted. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m finished with you.”

“I’m sure that I have no idea what you mean,” Ellie protested a little desperately as Constance wheeled her past the opening to the floor with the guest rooms and compelled her upward.

“Yes, you bloody well do,” Constance returned. “Ah! Here we are.”

They popped through a doorway onto the flat rooftop of the house, which was furnished much like one of the sitting rooms below. Long benches thickly covered in colorful cushions lined a recess set into the floor. Intricately carved meshrabiyeh screens framed the space, topped by wooden awnings that granted it privacy from any peering eyes from the neighboring buildings. Potted palms, night-blooming jasmine, and even a lemon tree, all warmed by the glow of the scattered glass lanterns, gave the space a lush atmosphere.

Over it all hung the enormous, dusk-streaked sky. The sun had dipped below the horizon in the west, painting the cloudless expanse overhead in hues of rich purple and fuchsia.

From this high perch, Ellie could see the needles of the minarets and the great dome of a nearby mosque. Further on, glimpses of the dark ribbon of the Nile were just visible between the buildings. She took it all in as the warm night breeze danced over her skin, soft as a caress.

A speckled tortoiseshell tabby slept comfortably on the cushions. Constance tossed herself down beside it and reclined there like a tiny, dangerous goddess.

“Is that your cat?” Ellie asked, stalling for time.