A Grand Tour (Timeless Victorian Collection Book 2)

by Anthea Lawson

  The breath left Evelyn. Henry had brought up marriage, in a self-deprecating way—shooting it down before she could even answer.

  He continued in a wry tone. “Sand, wind, and heat don’t make an ideal backdrop for raising a family—”

  “Henry,” Evelyn cut in. She placed her hand over his.

  He paused, and she knew he was startled. Neither of them were wearing gloves, and the skin-to-skin contact was unexpected even to her. But she braved through her racing pulse and wrapped her fingers around his.

  “This has been the greatest adventure of my life,” she said. “And I want to tell you that I like you too.”

  He stared at her, and she stared back. She could no longer hear the whist players or anyone else who might be on the deck. She didn’t know if anyone else was observing them, and she found she didn’t care. The wind was gentle and warm, contrasting with the coolness rising from the river.

  Henry stepped closer, linking their fingers together. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He looked past her for a moment, focusing on nothing. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were darker, unreadable.

  “I honestly don’t know what to do with you, Evelyn,” he said at last. He squeezed her fingers, then released them. “I apologize. I must leave now.”

  Before she could reply, he’d moved past her and disappeared inside the side entrance to the cabins.

  Evelyn remained by the rail for quite some time, gathering her thoughts. She couldn’t very well show up inside her shared cabin with her aunt and burst into tears, but that was exactly what she felt like doing.

  Dinner was hours away. That’s when she’d likely see Henry next, but she didn’t know if she could bear it.

  Once this cruise was over, Mrs. Worthen would learn the whole of their deception. And Evelyn’s adventures in Egypt would be only a distant memory. She felt the pang of longing grow within her breast. She was already missing this enchanting land. The fact of the matter was she’d confessed to Henry that she’d liked him, and he’d left.

  Tears threatened again, and she knew she had to get away from public eyes. Thankfully, when she opened the door to her shared cabin, Margaret was asleep. Evelyn had a short cry, one that she hoped wouldn’t make her face blotchy. When she felt composed once again, she joined Mrs. Jones on the deck. They sat in lounge chairs and watched the Nile banks pass by as they chatted now and then. All the while, Evelyn felt twinges of dread. Once Mrs. Worthen knew about the pretend engagement, would she manage to secure Henry as a husband after all? Would his guilt drive him to accept her proposal? Or perhaps his desperation to fund his excavation?

  People married for financial security often. Evelyn had just allowed herself to hope . . . and now that Henry had confessed he liked her, yet flatly discounted any notion of a future between them, Evelyn was feeling out of sorts. Quite melancholy, in fact.

  She should have known better than to let herself think outside of her small life experience. She was a poor relation to her aunt, and she needed to be grateful she had a home to go back to.

  “We should prepare for dinner,” Mrs. Jones said, interrupting Evelyn’s meandering thoughts.

  It was then that Evelyn realized the entire day had passed without her seeing Henry. He must have kept to the other side of the boat. Had he seen where she was sitting?

  She rose with Mrs. Jones, and they returned to their cabins. While Mrs. Jones helped Margaret change into a more formal dress for dinner, Evelyn barely listened to their conversation. She wore a lavender gown that had been one of the many generous purchases on the trip—courtesy of her aunt, or perhaps Henry, since it was his money after all.

  Here he was, facing an uncertain financial future because of the potential wrath of Mrs. Worthen, and Evelyn was wearing an expensive gown. It couldn’t be helped now, but she felt the guilt all the same. She pulled on her gloves just as her aunt announced she was ready.

  “You’ve been very quiet,” Margaret said as they walked along the corridor to the dining area. “Are you well?”

  “I have a bit of a headache,” Evelyn admitted, for it was true. “Perhaps a good supper will help.”

  “You do enjoy the Egyptian food more than I do,” her aunt said with a laugh.

  Evelyn smiled, although she didn’t feel much like smiling. She felt as if a part of her had been carved out and she had been left hollow. Mrs. Worthen would eventually learn about the pretend engagement, and before the year was out, Henry might find himself a married man.

  Upon their departure, Evelyn feared she’d be leaving behind more than memories. Her heart could very well become a casualty.

  The dining area buzzed with activity. Mr. Smith was the first to greet them, his eyes shining with excitement. Evelyn didn’t have time to wonder what he was all about before Mr. and Mrs. Jones joined them. They all sat together at a table for six. Evelyn hoped that Henry would join them, and when she saw him enter the dining room, her heart hammered as he strode directly toward their table.

  After greeting everyone, he took his place next to Evelyn. It both exhilarated her and made her sad. She could no longer enjoy their ruse, their adventure, when she knew the ending would be sharp and final.

  The conversation at the table centered around the upcoming sites, and Evelyn should have been fascinated to hear Henry’s narrative, but she couldn’t relax.

  When the tinkling of a glass sounded, Evelyn was pulled from her ruminating.

  Mr. Percy Smith, one table over, had risen to his feet and was tapping his glass with a spoon. “I’d like everyone’s attention, if you please.” His eyes were still bright with excitement, and he looked as if he had the most delicious news to share. “I have an important announcement to make.”

  All conversation in the room halted, and even the waiters, carrying platters of food, paused.

  Mr. Smith’s grin seemed a permanent thing on his face. He turned his gaze on Mrs. Worthen, who was at his same table. She was watching him with a smile.

  “My important announcement is that Lillian Worthen has agreed to be my wife.”

  Several people in the room gasped, others clapped, but Evelyn didn’t move. Henry seemed to sag next to Evelyn. “Percy can’t do this,” he whispered. “He can’t sacrifice himself for me.” He looked at Evelyn straight on. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t let Percy do this. Please forgive me.”

  Before Evelyn could react, Henry bolted to his feet as if he’d been sitting on hot coals.

  “You don’t have to cover for me, Percy,” Henry said.

  Evelyn felt every bit of heat drain from her body.

  Mr. Smith turned to face his friend, his brows drawing together. “Whatever are you saying, Henry? I believe congratulations are in order, my friend.”

  Henry pushed back his chair with such force that it clattered to the wooden floor. He moved around the table and faced Mr. Smith. “I cannot let you do this. I must own up to my own fallacies.”

  Mrs. Worthen stood now. “What is this about?” she asked, looking from Henry to Mr. Smith.

  Evelyn wanted to disappear. To shrink away and hide under the table. To be anywhere but there. Because in the very next moments, Henry confessed it all. From his initial disinterest in marrying while excavating in Egypt, to his increased disinterest to take Mrs. Worthen to wife, to his bald lies, to his urgent letters to Evelyn, to Evelyn and her aunt’s agreement to act their part.

  Next to Evelyn, Margaret clenched her hands together in her lap until her knuckles turned white. Evelyn grasped her aunt’s hands and clung to them as if they were the only life preserver in an ocean.

  When Henry finished his impassioned explanations and multiple apologies, Evelyn couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed her aunt’s arm, and the two of them rose and left the dining room without so much as a glance back.

  As the steamboat neared the dock at the Dendera Temple complex the next morning, Henry stayed in his place by the rail. He would not be getting off here to tour the temple complex with the res
t of the group. He was aware that Percy and Mrs. Worthen would be taking their leave here and abandoning the tour, traveling north again. And it was all Henry’s fault. It was his fault that so many feelings were hurt last night and so many beliefs destroyed.

  From his friend Percy, to their benefactress Mrs. Worthen, to Mrs. Tucker and Evelyn, along with all those associated with them. Henry was not naïve to the fact that his actions would have long and far-reaching consequences.

  “Mr. Gaiman,” a man said.

  Startled that anyone cared to speak to him, he turned to see Mr. Jones.

  “Mr. Percy Smith requests that you join him in his cabin.” Mr. Jones turned and walked away before Henry could reply.

  The steamboat felt empty, since the passengers had already off-loaded, and Henry had assumed that Percy had been among them. Henry made his way to the cabins and knocked on the door that belonged to Percy.

  It opened immediately, and Percy stood there. Beyond him was a packed valise on his single bed.

  “Come in,” Percy said in a tight voice. He promptly shut the door, then faced Henry and folded his arms.

  “Percy, I am so sorry, and I—” Henry began.

  Percy raised a hand to silence Henry. “It’s your turn to hear me out. I’m not you. I don’t want to spend my life living out of a tent. I want a family. I want a wife. I want to someday sit in my home library and remember excavations with a fondness, but they will never be what I eat, live, and breathe.”

  “Percy, I—”

  “My marriage to Lillian is going to happen, with or without your approval,” Percy continued. “We may not be a love match, but we respect each other. She needs me, and I . . . I don’t have a lot of options. Neither of us are getting younger, and I want to make something of myself. I want to feel like I am making a difference in someone’s life, and I can do that for Lillian.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “It’s not about you,” Percy said, his voice growing louder, his face flushing red. “This is about me. This is about Lillian. Your mistakes are your mistakes, and Lillian knows that you and she would have never suited. Especially after learning the lengths you went to in order to avoid her.”

  Henry winced at this.

  Percy managed to lower his voice. “I don’t know what will happen with the excavation or whether we will continue to finance it. Once this all blows over, I imagine that all of us will have matured and grown wiser for the experience. Perhaps our love for archaeology will supersede our emotions.”

  Henry exhaled. He felt awful but, strangely, better. He’d never seen Percy so passionate about anything before. It reminded Henry of . . . himself.

  “You are truly going to marry Mrs. Worthen?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Percy said, his jaw twitching. “And you will not disrespect my wife or do any foolish thing toward her again.”

  “I will not.” Henry’s heart and mind ached, but he could see the forgiveness in Percy’s eyes. “Thank you. I will spend the rest of my days making this up to you.”

  Percy shook his head. “No. As far as I’m concerned, that is in the past, and I want it left there.” He opened the door, signaling the end of their conversation. “But if you were to make it up to me, I know what you would need to do.”

  “What?” Henry asked. This was an unexpected olive branch.

  “Go to the temple complex, and find that woman whom you are so enamored with,” Percy said. “She deserves your apology the most out of everyone, and she also deserves a true marriage proposal.”

  Henry’s mouth dropped open.

  Percy raised his hand—he was becoming quite proficient at this—and said, “I’ve watched you mooning over her these past few days. And I know that you’ll throw up a dozen arguments about having a wife and exposing her to Egypt. But Mrs. Worthen and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll be living out of her apartments, and Miss Tucker will have opportunity for female companionship. Besides, her aunt is the spunkiest woman I know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to stay in Cairo too.”

  Henry was speechless.

  Percy chuckled, shaking his head. “Who would have thought that I’d be counseling you in matters of the heart? Go on now. Find Evelyn. Tell her how you feel, and do the right thing by her. Then let her decide where fate might take you both.”

  Percy turned to pick up his suitcase, and then he moved out into the corridor, passing by Henry. Without saying another word, he continued toward the deck.

  There were still so many unanswered questions he had about Percy and Lillian Worthen’s relationship, but as he replayed his friend’s words in his mind, he knew that Percy was right. Henry had to speak with Evelyn. The only question now was whether she’d give him the chance.

  By the time Henry reached the deck, all passengers had left the boat. He could see a group of them—the last group—up ahead, on horses and camels as they traveled toward the Dendera Temple complex. Just as in Cairo, a group of children had gathered at the launch area and were eagerly awaiting the straggling passengers—which happened to be Henry this time.

  He was about to shoo them off, and then he saw a young girl holding up a bunch of red flowers. He hesitated only a moment, then handed her a couple of coins and bought all the flowers she held.

  One of the merchants was happy to hire out his horse, and Henry mounted the beast and headed after the others. By the time he caught up with them, most of them had dismounted their horses and were walking through the temple complex.

  He could clearly hear Mr. Purdie explaining some of the historical details to the group he was with, which included Mrs. Tucker and the Joneses. Henry scanned for Evelyn but didn’t see her immediately.

  He had been sure she would be at the ruins and wondered for a moment if she had in fact stayed on the boat. But he couldn’t imagine her missing the site that contained one of the best-preserved temples in all of Egypt. One of the crowning features were the depictions of Cleopatra VI on the temple walls, in addition to a carving of Cleopatra VII and her son Ptolemy XV.

  Henry followed his instinct and continued past the group who was listening to Mr. Purdie, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of Evelyn.

  When he spotted her, he told himself he shouldn’t have been surprised in the least. She was walking along the outside temple wall, where the position of the sun created a nice patch of shade. Her pale-yellow dress seemed to float about her, reminding Henry of a delicate butterfly. She carried her straw hat in one hand. Her hair was in a coiled braid, with several strands having escaped.

  She looked a vision, and Henry knew when she left Egypt, he would feel her absence keenly. Evelyn was beautiful, witty, intelligent, and passionate about Egyptian history. He couldn’t ask for a better woman, no matter how far and wide he searched. He could only hope that she would give him another chance.

  As he approached, she didn’t see him at first, so when she turned her head, her brows shot up in surprise.

  “Henry,” she said, then corrected to, “Mr. Gaiman.”

  He took the last few strides, the bunch of flowers clutched in his hand. His heart thundered, and his pulse raced. Her dark eyes were upon him, and he didn’t like the wariness that he saw there. When he reached her, he gave a short bow.

  She stepped back, as if she wanted to be anywhere but standing before him.

  “Please,” he said. “Hear me out.”

  She clasped her hands together, her hat dangling in front of her by the ribbons. Then she gave a small nod.

  Henry felt as if he’d just been proclaimed a pharaoh. “It seems that from the first moment I met you, I’ve been apologizing.” He looked down at the flowers in his hand that he was now practically crushing. “You have been patient, you have been understanding . . .” He looked up to meet her gaze. Her expression had softened, but the wariness remained. “You have been an angel, a goddess.”

  A small smile touched her lips, and Henry took it as encouragement to continue.

  “I
have a confession to make,” he continued. “I told you that I like you, but I more than like you.”

  She simply stared at him.

  “I’ve little to offer a wife, Evelyn—you know my situation better than anyone. Yet I can’t imagine letting you return to England without at least considering my offer of marriage.”

  “Marriage?” Evelyn whispered. Her hands fell to her sides, and she released her hat.

  “I know it might seem sudden, but I don’t think it really is,” he said. “I named you as my fiancée for a reason, although it wasn’t known to me at the time.”

  Evelyn blinked a few times. “Are you asking me to marry you, Henry?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. I know that I don’t live the typical life and that I don’t have the typical home to offer—at least not here in Egypt—”

  “Henry,” Evelyn cut in. “Why are you asking me to marry you? You told me last night that—”

  He cut her off now by stepping forward and grasping her hand. “Last night I was a fool. I should have never called out Percy in front of everyone. I hurt you and your aunt by doing it, and your reputation could have been ruined. I can only ask for your forgiveness even though I’m still a fool. I don’t want to lose you, Evelyn.” He took a much-needed breath. “If I have to give up my excavation and return to England to become a respectable homeowner, then I’ll do it. What do you say, Evelyn? Will you have me as your husband?”

  Her expression was incredulous.

  “Dear Evelyn,” he said. “I’ve fallen in love with you, don’t you see?”

  Slowly, she smiled, and he thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “Are those flowers for me?” she asked.

  He’d nearly forgotten about them. “They are.”

  “You’re crushing them.”

  He looked down. The flowers were crushed between their bodies, and he realized how close he was standing to Evelyn. Why, she was practically in his arms.