Page 4 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)
The breakfast Naila had eaten earlier soured in her stomach. “He told you that?”
Nadine pouted. “How unfortunate that I’m already married.”
Raya looked heavenward. “Yes, I’m sure you would have been first on his list.”
Naila forced a casual tone. “Did he say if he has anyone in mind?”
“No.” Raya’s eyes twinkled. “I should set him up with you.”
Nadine scoffed. “As if a handsome, rich earl would marry a twenty-seven-year-old spinster.” She shot Naila an apologetic look. “I mean no offense, of course.”
“Then why do you say things that offend?” Raya snapped.
“I wonder what an earl looks for in a wife,” Nadine mused. “I suppose she has to be very beautiful.”
“He didn’t mention looks.” Raya rolled over and rose from the bed, shaking out her skirts. “It seems character is most important to him.”
Naila fidgeted with her bangles, the gold cool against her fingertips. “What did he say to make you think that?”
“He wants someone who knows her own mind. The earl seems to have contempt for women who shrink away from making hard decisions.”
Naila froze. The words stung. “Oh.”
“I have to go.” Raya strode toward the door. “I have some castle accounts to settle.”
Nadine rolled her eyes. “Most brides-to-be would be obsessing over their wedding, not their ledgers. How does the duke tolerate your infatuation with business?”
“He not only tolerates my enthusiasm, he loves it.” Raya’s mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Perhaps a little too much.”
Nadine grimaced. “I’m sure I do not want to know what you mean by that.”
Laughing, Raya turned to Naila. “Which dress have you decided on? The orange or the blue?”
“The brown silk,” Naila responded. “There’s no use in pretending to be someone I’m not.”
Raya and Nadine groaned in unison.
Naila tugged the orange dress off. She suddenly couldn’t stand to be in it.
There was no going back to the past. No use pretending that she was someone that she wasn’t.
That part of her life, when she was young and fearless and easily drew the admiration of men, was over, no matter how much she wished that wasn’t the case.
“It is not as though I have anything to prove to anyone,” she said, leaving the orange silk in a forlorn heap on the floor.
“I’ll marry the earl,” Hind, Naila’s cousin, announced with a twinkle in her eye. “I am ready and available.”
“Don’t you think you should wait for him to propose?” Naila asked.
Hind, a few years younger than Naila, was practically a third sister. Her mother died when Hind was a child, which led to the young cousin spending a great deal of time at the Darwish house while her father, Umo Refaat, was at work.
That close bond was why Hind joined Naila, Nadine and Ghassan, Nadine’s husband, on the voyage to England.
The four of them, along with Auntie Majida, who had come to England with Raya several months earlier, would represent the bride’s side of the family at the nuptials.
Their brother, Salem, stayed behind in New York to tend to the family linen business.
“The earl is a forbidding person but that is part of his attraction,” Hind observed as they entered one of the castle’s numerous drawing rooms after supper.
The rest of the party consisted of about two dozen people, including Basil and the duke’s other friends and family.
“Did Hawksworth tell Raya what he’s looking for in a wife? ”
“He wants a woman who knows her own mind,” Naila answered. “Who is firm in her decisions.”
Hind winked. “I could definitely stand firm in my decision to marry a man like that.”
Unlike Naila. Regret waived through her as she surreptitiously tracked Basil’s movements. He stood across the room conversing with a striking, well-dressed couple. The pair’s matching vibrant copper hair suggested that they might be related.
“So Hawksworth wants a strong woman?” Hind mused. “Meanwhile, the aunties are busy telling us to act shy and malleable in order to attract a husband. That shows how much the old ladies know.”
Naila recalled how wrong Auntie Majida had been about Basil. “Isn’t that the truth?”
“Are you acquainted with the woman he’s talking to? She’s frightfully elegant.”
The copper-haired lady was also beautiful, with flawless skin and delicate bone structure. “I don’t know who she is.” Jealousy flared in Naila’s stomach. Not that she had any right. She had given up all claim to Basil eight years ago.
Nadine appeared. “Will you play the piano,” she asked Naila, “so that we can all dance?”
“Of course.” She welcomed the distraction. “If that is what Raya wants.”
“She said you should only play if you care to. And that it’s not fair that you never get to dance.” Nadine rolled her eyes. “As if you like to dance.”
She had once. With Basil. She could still feel the cocoon of his protective embrace, the warm sensation of his large hand flat against her upper back.
Naila crossed over to the piano. As she browsed the sheet music, Raya approached with a man who appeared to be about their age. She introduced him as Mr. Kareem Amar.
“A pleasure.” With a slight bow of his head, Mr. Amar pressed a hand flat against his chest in a show of respect and courtesy. He was of average height, with sharp features and dark eyes. His smile was appealing and his manner pleasant.
“Kareem is something like our fifth cousin,” Raya told her. “We couldn’t quite figure it out. But his grandmother and Auntie Majida share the same great-great-grandparents.”
Naila noted Mr. Amar’s crisp English accent. “You grew up here?”
He nodded. “I was born in Manchester.”
“Kareem is an architect,” Raya told Naila. “I thought you two would enjoy meeting since you share a love of old buildings.”
He smiled, baring crowded white teeth. “The more ancient the better.”
“I envy your living in England,” Naila remarked. “There is so much to see here.”
“Kareem is working on a project that might interest you,” Raya said. “He’s cataloging old manor houses before they disappear.”
“Disappear?” Naila frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Kareem will have to explain it to you.” Raya looked across the room, to where her duke sat with Auntie Majida and Nadine. Their sister spoke animatedly while the duke listened with an expression of polite interest. “I must go and rescue Strick from Nadine.”
“Your sister is a force of nature,” Mr. Amar remarked after Raya departed. “This castle might very well have fallen into ruin without her management.”
“Raya is remarkable,” Naila agreed. “What did she mean about the manor houses vanishing?”
“The old aristocratic families are unable to keep them up. They can no longer make a handsome living off the land like they used to. As a result, some of the big houses, many of which are architecturally significant, are being abandoned. It is only a matter of time before they are torn down.”
“What?” She couldn’t imagine treasures like Castle Tremayne being razed to the ground. “That’s terrible!”
“I agree. That is why I am cataloging England’s significant country manors so that they won’t be completely lost to history.”
“But the actual buildings will be?”
“I fear that will inevitably be the case. Everything, even the family crypts, will be destroyed. We could eventually lose prime examples of the finest Tudor and Palladian architecture.”
Naila couldn’t imagine such a thing. “Surely something can be done to save them.”
“Some aristocrats have wed American heiresses with dowries significant enough to save the crumbling estates.”
“That seems to be a fair trade,” she remarked. Mr. Amar was very easy to talk to. “The brides become aristocrats and the nobles save their homes?”
“Precisely. And some actually marry for love. So it is said about Lady Randolph Churchill.”
“Who is she?”
“She was born Jennie Jerome of New York. When she married the third son of a duke more than a decade ago, her dowry was large enough to begin a major restoration of Blenheim Palace, one of England’s grandest country homes.”
“More aristocrats need to follow that example.”
“You will get no argument from me. I would like to photograph the estates as well, but that is a costly endeavor. I hope to raise funds, perhaps through a generous benefactor, to photograph all of the estates that I catalog.”
Nadine came over, interrupting their conversation. “Are you going to play?” she asked impatiently. “We’re all waiting.”
Naila was so caught up in her exchange with Mr. Amar that she’d forgotten all about providing the evening’s music. “If you will excuse me,” she said reluctantly to him.
“Of course. I hope we can continue speaking another time?”
She smiled up at him. “I will look forward to it.”