Or would she expect him to share her Cairo apartment?
Every future image Henry had of his life, of becoming a well-known and highly respected archaeologist, seemed to fade before his eyes. He’d just worked out the inheritance of James Tucker’s property, and now . . .
“I am very flattered by your offer,” he said, feeling absolutely nauseated and completely desperate. “But when I returned to England, I became . . . engaged . . . to a young woman there.”
Mrs. Worthen’s eyes snapped wide. “Engaged? To whom?”
Henry had never told such a bare-faced lie, but he was frantic. “She’s, uh, she’s a relative of my extended family. I don’t think you know her.”
“What’s her name?” Mrs. Worthen asked, her eyes narrowing.
Did she not believe him? Was he such a terrible liar after all? Henry didn’t want to name anyone specific, but he knew if he didn’t give Mrs. Worthen a real name, she’d find him out. He looked toward the tents and hoped that Percy would cover for him.
Not to mention the woman he was about to name—should she ever cross paths with Mrs. Worthen.
“She goes by Evelyn Tucker,” he said. “Although she’s not a Tucker by birth, she’s taken on the name of her aunt and uncle.”
Mrs. Worthen held very still for a moment, and it seemed the wind stopped blowing for a moment, as if at her command. “She’s coming here to live?”
Henry exhaled. “We haven’t made final plans yet. She’s traveling to Egypt with her aunt, and we will decide from there.”
Mrs. Worthen looked him up and down, and the wind started to blow again. “Interesting,” she said in a tone that said she didn’t find it interesting at all. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Henry. You seemed so focused on your work.”
“The, uh, opportunity presented itself,” Henry said lamely.
“Well then, I suppose I’ll have to look elsewhere.” She smoothed some blowing hair from her face. “Too bad Percy isn’t as hardy as you,” she continued as if she were talking about an animal at a fair. “He has a pleasant personality, but I don’t really see him as someone I wish to share nights with.”
Henry’s neck felt like it had caught on fire. He was utterly speechless. Finally, he came up with something. “Would you like to tour the dig site?”
“Perhaps another time,” Mrs. Worthen said. “When is your fiancée arriving?”
Henry blew out a breath. They were back to his fabricated story. “A couple of weeks, perhaps longer. They are making a few stops along the way.” Truthfully, he had no idea. He’d left the invitation open with Mrs. Tucker, and she’d said they would write of their possible visit. But there had been no mail from her.
“I’ll be interested to meet my competition,” Mrs. Worthen said, her brows lifting as she leaned toward him and gave him a suggestive smile. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind.”
Henry didn’t miss the fact that she’d leaned close enough that her dress brushed against his arm. He had to force himself not to pull away. He didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to give her the idea that there was any sort of competition going on.
If he had to match Evelyn against Mrs. Worthen, there would be no competition.
“I’ll go and check on the men you brought along to see if they’ve had enough supper,” Henry said, trying not to confound his words. He really wanted to speak to Percy before Mrs. Worthen brought up the subject of Evelyn Tucker.
“I’ll join you later,” Mrs. Worthen said. “I thought we might enjoy the sunset together this evening, but it seems that might be inappropriate now.”
Henry took another step back. “You’re a lovely woman,” he started. Another lie. “And I’m sure you will be able to accomplish all that you desire very soon.”
When Mrs. Worthen gave him a regal nod, he took it as permission to take his leave. He strode toward the collection of tents, trying not to break into an all-out run.
Another three weeks later
Evelyn craned her neck as she gazed at the ceiling of the catacombs that she and her aunt stood in, along with another group of English tourists. They’d arrived in Alexandria the night before, and at dinner in the hotel, she and her aunt had been approached by a group of English who were all traveling together. They were all from England and were in Alexandria for a few days, then planned to cruise the Nile River all the way to Luxor.
One of the gentlemen, a Mr. Purdie, who was there with his wife, announced that his cousin, Mrs. Lillian Worthen, was an expert Egyptologist and would be meeting them in Cairo. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get her aunt to agree to join the party with the Purdies.
This morning, their excursion was to the catacombs of Kom el Shoqafa. The place was fascinating, and Evelyn had read a book once that included details about this medieval wonder.
Their guide, Mr. Dawson, a former professor, continued in his lengthy narration. Even Evelyn had tuned out from time to time. She just wanted to absorb the ancient walls and gaze at the ornate etchings and sculptures.
“Here we have the Hall of Caracalla,” Mr. Dawson continued. “This is a gruesome feature of the catacombs, since it was once a mass burial chamber for the humans and animals massacred by Emperor Caracalla in AD 215.”
Some of the ladies in the party gasped, but Evelyn was only intrigued. The narrative was no longer monotonous. They continued through the catacombs until it was time to return to the hotel.
At the hotel, Evelyn’s aunt announced that she would rest the remainder of the afternoon and join everyone else for dinner. Evelyn took the opportunity to read through the brochure the guide had handed her when she asked if there was anything more she could read about the catacombs.
When they reached their room, her aunt said, “Why, look, there’s a letter for you.”
Evelyn had yet to receive letters on their tour. She hadn’t even heard from Beatrice because she had told her friend to send her correspondence to the London house. Their travel plans were too unpredictable.
So a letter was definitely a surprise. She took it from her aunt and looked at the script. It wasn’t in Beatrice’s handwriting.
“Who could it be from?” her aunt asked. “Did Beatrice write to you at last?”
“I don’t think so.” Evelyn opened the seal and started to read. She couldn’t help the gasp that came from her throat.
“What is it? Did something terrible happen?” her aunt fussed.
There was no way Evelyn could hide the news, so she handed the letter over to her aunt to read.
“How dare he!” Margaret said after she finished reading. “This is infuriating. Does Henry Gaiman not know that he is compromising your reputation? Besides, how can he think you would go along with this charade without even asking you first? From this letter, it’s all said and done. This Lillian Worthen thinks you’re engaged, so who knows how far the news will spread now?”
Evelyn didn’t respond to her aunt’s tirade because all the awful things she was saying were the same things Evelyn was thinking herself. She paced the room and finally sat down on a chair. Then she rose to her feet again.
Margaret paused in her verbal attack on Mr. Gaiman. “What if this letter hadn’t reached us before we met up with Mr. Gaiman and Mrs. Worthen in Cairo? What a mess that would have been!”
Evelyn nodded. “I suppose that Mr. Gaiman would have been found out, and he would be made to look the fool.”
“He is a fool!” her aunt spat out. “Look at what he says here: I cannot bring myself to accept a proposal from Mrs. Worthen, no matter the circumstance.” She looked over at Evelyn. “Yet he expects you to accept this situation! He’s a hypocrite!”
Evelyn blew out a breath as her stomach tightened into a knot. She moved to the window of the hotel room and looked out over the tree-lined street below. The stately palm trees blew gently in the wind as if there were no cares in the world. How frightening was Mrs. Worthen? She must be wealthy if she was the benefactress on the archaeology projec
t. Evelyn could readily admit that Mr. Gaiman was a striking and handsome man. All things that would equally draw another woman, such as this widow who had proposed to him.
Evelyn turned to face her aunt. “We must play along with the ruse, no matter how distasteful it might seem. Mr. Gaiman is legally the owner of your estate now, and I don’t want to displease him or give him cause to turn you out.”
Her aunt’s face paled. “So we are to be coerced and threatened into this?”
Evelyn closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure. “We will go along with this for now, until we see for ourselves what type of woman Mrs. Worthen is. If you think about it, what if he does marry her, and then she proves to be a tyrant and has us thrown out of our home?”
Margaret brought a hand to her mouth. “You’re right. We could very well lose our home if Mr. Gaiman marries this woman, or any woman, so soon.” She set the letter on the side table and crossed the room to take Evelyn’s hands in hers. “You are a wise young woman. We will play his game for now, but if I think your reputation cannot be repaired, I will make him confess the whole of it.”
Evelyn nodded, although she still felt like she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around this turn of events.
Her aunt continued, “When we see him, we must maintain the sham while we are with him and that . . . woman. We’ll pretend that we know him much better than we actually do.”
“Yes,” Evelyn agreed.
Her aunt released her hands and looked out the window as well. “We’re going to have to stick together on this. We are dependent on Mr. Gaiman, you know.”
“We will stick together,” Evelyn said, feeling her throat grow tight. She hadn’t seen her aunt admit to such vulnerability.
Her aunt gave a regal nod. “That’s settled, then. I’ll inform Mr. and Mrs. Jones as well so they can be a part of our planning.” She looked Evelyn directly in the eyes. “Keep your chin up, dear. You are an engaged woman now.”
Evelyn swallowed as nerves swept through her body. The thought of being engaged to a man like Mr. Gaiman made her feel out of sorts, but not in the way that her aunt might be thinking.
“We will not announce your engagement in any formal way,” her aunt continued. “If someone in our party happens to ask, then we can share the news with them.”
“Yes, that sounds fair,” Evelyn said.
“I’ll leave you now,” her aunt said, patting her arm. “I need my rest, although I’m not sure if I’ll actually be able to sleep now. The dinner hour will be here all too soon.”
“Yes,” Evelyn murmured. It seemed she was quite at a loss for words. When her aunt went into the bedroom, Evelyn remained in the sitting room.
She picked up the letter from the side table and sat down to read it again. Sure enough, the words were still there in the exact order and formation as the first two times she’d read them. Mr. Gaiman wanted her to pretend they were engaged for an undetermined amount of time.
Evelyn fanned herself with the letter, stirring up a small breeze. How could one letter change everything in her life so drastically? She didn’t know what she truly thought, only that she’d never expected this type of adventure to ever befall her.
She didn’t know if she was appalled or excited. Was she up to the task of acting out such a ruse, or would everyone, including Mrs. Worthen, see right through her? Evelyn ached to be able to discuss all of this with Beatrice. Her friend would laugh and urge her on. But Evelyn was afraid that her heart might actually become involved with this charade. What then?
Henry paced along the road in front of the café where Percy sat enjoying cold tea and pastries. But Henry couldn’t sit still. He’d sent two letters, and there had been no reply. He didn’t know what to make of it. Had Evelyn received the letters explaining his blunder? Or had she not received the letters and was about to step off the ferry to be met by an English entourage led by Mrs. Worthen? Henry had sent the letters to the hotel in Alexandria that they should have been staying at the past several days, according to the itinerary Mrs. Worthen had informed him about.
Mrs. Worthen had ridden out to their excavation site a few days before, announcing that she’d had a letter from a cousin who was asking to see her in Cairo. The cousin, Mr. Purdie, had mentioned the members of the group he was traveling in and how they all wanted to take a ferry along the Nile, from Alexandria to Cairo.
Mrs. Worthen had been delighted to point out that her cousin had listed Mrs. Tucker and her niece, Miss Tucker, and their traveling companions, Mr. and Mrs. Jones. “What a coincidence!” Mrs. Worthen had needlessly pointed out. “I will, of course, offer to travel with them along the Nile. After Cairo, we can show them Memphis, Karak, and Luxor. When they arrive in Cairo, they will surely want a close-up view of the pyramids and the sphinx. You and Percy should accompany us. I might even be able to convince everyone into taking an excursion to the Valley of the Kings.”
So, here Henry was, taking more time away from the work on his excavation. He expected to receive a final decision from the British Museum any day now, and that had been the only benefit of traveling to Cairo and visiting his apartment.
It had also been nice to sleep in a real bed.
Henry knew that when the English were traveling abroad, they tended to congregate together, joining one another for meals, taking day trips, and sometimes combining their excursions. It was said that you were more likely to run into a distant relative on a grand tour than you were right in London.
Henry only wondered if he’d have a chance to speak with Mrs. Tucker and her niece before Mrs. Worthen introduced herself and offered congratulations.
He was perspiring. He really should get out of the hot sun. So he forced himself to walk back toward Percy.
“Henry! Come have a drink,” Percy called out as soon as he spotted him. “Mrs. Worthen has just arrived.”
Henry turned to see that Mrs. Worthen had indeed arrived, accompanied by two other men—one was her man of business, and another was a bodyguard.
When Henry had told Percy what he’d told Mrs. Worthen about being engaged, Percy had burst out laughing. In fact, that first night, in their shared tent, Henry had been awakened more than once to Percy’s bouts of laughter.
The joke was very, very old now. All that replaced the mirth was anxiety. Percy hadn’t even been offended that Mrs. Worthen had so readily dismissed him as a man virile enough to meet her expectations for a third husband. In fact, Percy had offered to be a distraction to Mrs. Worthen as Henry tried to cut off Mrs. Tucker and Miss Tucker before introductions.
There was no doubt that Percy found this all quite amusing.
The steam-powered ferry would be stopping in Cairo overnight, and the passengers would all be staying at Shepheard’s Hotel. A dinner was planned, as well as music and dancing. There would be plenty of time for Mrs. Worthen to speak to Miss Tucker before the travelers continued on their journey.
As Henry reached the café, Percy pointed past him. “There are the runners.”
Henry turned to see a mob of young boys and girls running alongside the bank. As they grew closer, Henry could hear their shouts and laughter.
“What are they doing?” Mrs. Worthen asked.
“They’ve spotted the ferry and are eager to get into position to sell their trinkets.”
Sure enough, the children were carrying things to sell.
Henry turned from the café and strode to the river’s bank. He didn’t want to appear too eager, but he couldn’t stop himself either.
“There he goes,” Percy commented after him. “He’s looking forward to welcoming his fiancée to Cairo.”
Henry’s neck prickled with the continued deception.
The steamboat came into view, and Henry’s heart thumped in anticipation. So be it if Mrs. Worthen thought he was eager to see his fiancée. Eager he would be.
Henry waved the children away who wanted to sell trinkets to him. If he bought one thing, he’d be swarmed.
A couple
of Egyptians hurried past him and shouted at the children in Arabic, telling them to move away and not mob the new arrivals. Henry waited while the Egyptians did their work, then he had to chuckle when he recognized one of the men as a local shop owner himself.
Everyone would be competing for the attention of the travelers, including Henry.
Henry kept his gaze firmly on the approaching steamboat. The passengers were at the rail, pointing and talking to one another. Some of them waved. There were several dozen of them, but they were too far away to make out their faces.
He didn’t have long to wait because he picked out Mrs. Tucker soon after. She wore a yellow-and-blue dress that looked quite garish compared to the white dresses of the other women. And, not surprisingly, next to her stood the young woman that Henry had been thinking a lot about.
Miss Tucker wore a traditional white dress. Her straw hat was narrow brimmed but adequately shaded her face from the sun. She seemed to be searching for someone, or something, while her aunt was talking nonstop. Miss Tucker nodded but didn’t seem to be part of her aunt’s one-sided conversation.
Then he realized she was looking right at him. He stood apart from the crowd gathering at the small dock. The children had congregated again, and Percy, true to his word, had engaged Mrs. Worthen in some animated discussion near the road. As of now, Henry was much closer to where the boat passengers would alight.
The steamboat grew closer and closer, and Henry held Miss Tucker’s gaze. He couldn’t read her expression yet, and he doubted he’d be able to truly read her eyes unless she was standing right before him. She looked healthy and fresh and not travel worn as he’d expected.
When the boat docked, the jostling of the passengers started. The family groups were coming off together, and Miss Tucker and her aunt were somewhere in the middle of the throng.
A Grand Tour (Timeless Victorian Collection Book 2) Page 19
