Lady Travelers Guide to Deception with an Unlikely Earl

by Victoria Alexander

  Harry had hired horses, much to Corbin’s dismay. The reporter insisted Sidney would prefer a carriage but had given in when Harry had pointed out the narrowness of the streets surrounding the royal residence. Once they were out of sight of the hotel, they donned the robes and turbans of a typical Cairo resident. They had hidden the garments with Harry’s other purchases in sacks each man had slung over his shoulder. Harry would never pass for an Egyptian in the hard light of day but at night, with his dark blond hair hidden beneath a turban, he knew from past experience no one would give him a second look. They had left the horses around the corner at the quarter gate under the alert eye of a young man who had agreed to watch the animals for a price.

  The street was poorly lit by no more than a handful of lanterns. Infrequent pools of illumination were threatened by dark pockets of unnerving shadow. The door was simple and traditional—wood with an iron knocker and a wooden lock. Directly above it, a squared bow window—what the Egyptians called a mashrabiya—jutted outward, supported by scalloped wooden brackets.

  “It doesn’t look much like a palace,” Corbin said skeptically.

  “It’s not supposed to. That’s precisely the idea.”

  Harry had done any number of stupid things in his life. Usually he realized they were stupid when there was no going back. Tonight, from the moment he agreed to this, he’d known it was stupid. And probably nothing more than a desire to put Corbin in his place. Also stupid.

  “This is not the main entrance but a door used for function and discretion.”

  “I understand that but the building itself does not look like a royal residence.”

  “One never knows what’s behind the walls on any street in Cairo. Especially the older ones. The stonework is all the same, the doors are similar and unadorned. It’s really quite brilliant. But if you look down on the area from the rooftops you see something entirely different.” Harry studied the building. “According to my information, if we climb to the roof, we’ll be able to identify the west wing which houses the harem. There is a large covered courtyard within the harem which should be fairly easy to spot. There are usually latticework screens that allow for ventilation. That’s probably the easiest way to get into the building.”

  “Are you mad?” Corbin stared at him. “I’ve read about this sort of thing. Do you know what they do to men who violate the sanctity of a harem?”

  Perhaps this was something Corbin should have considered before insisting they do this. Harry met his gaze. “Yes.”

  “Are you at least going to tell me that too is a false impression?”

  Harry was not about to relieve the man’s concerns. He pulled a metal hook and a coil of rope from his bag. “No.”

  “You do realize, this is a three-story building.”

  “The roof will be flat.”

  Corbin looked at the rope in horror. “If we make it to the roof.”

  “It’s not that difficult,” Harry said coolly. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “No.” Corbin huffed then paused. “Yes.”

  Harry clenched his teeth. “Well, now would be a good time to mention it.”

  “Well...” Corbin studied the building. “If we just climb to the top of that projecting window—”

  “It’s called a mashrabiya.”

  “We can probably get in through there.”

  “Of course then we’ll have to make our way to the women’s quarters inside the building, thus increasing the likelihood of discovery.” It was a bad idea. They could break the window but that would create a great deal of noise and attract attention. They would have to open the window as quietly as possible. Chances were good that it wasn’t locked—given their height, mashrabiyas rarely were. But to do that, it would be necessary to dangle upside down from the top of the mashrabiya. An idea only made better by the thought of dangling Corbin by his heels. No doubt Corbin would come to his senses as soon as he realized that. Harry shrugged. “Why not.”

  Approaching voices sounded at the far end of the street. Harry tossed the rope and hook back in the bag and whispered to Corbin to follow his lead. The men huddled together as if engaged in a financial negotiation.

  As soon as the passersby had vanished from sight, Harry pulled the rope out and knotted it about every three feet.

  “What are you doing?” the reporter asked.

  “Handholds,” Harry said curtly.

  Once he had enough knots, he tied the hook to one end then stepped away from the wall and assessed the height of the windows. This was not going to be easy. But with decent aim and a great deal of luck, the hook would wedge at the point where the mashrabiya attached to the wall. He drew a deep breath, hefted the hook in his hand and let it fly. It fell short by a few inches then clattered to the stone street.

  “Quiet,” Corbin snapped. “Do you want to wake everyone up?”

  Harry resisted the urge to point out as it was barely past eight o’clock the chances were slim they would awaken anyone although attracting attention was a distinct possibility. “Do you want to do this?”

  “Sorry,” Corbin muttered.

  Harry tried again. Again it fell short. Corbin wisely refrained from comment. Harry drew a steadying breath and threw the hook once more. This time it caught on the edge of the mashrabiya’s roof. He carefully inched it toward the wall until it wedged in the niche between mashrabiya and wall, exactly where he wanted it. He yanked hard to set the hook then glanced at Corbin. “Do you want to go first or should I?”

  “By all means.” Corbin gestured at the rope. “Go on.”

  Harry wrapped the rope around one hand, braced one foot on the stonework around the door and pulled himself up. The first few feet were always the hardest. Slowly he walked up the side of the building until he reached the window. He grabbed on to the ornate carved moldings that would provide excellent hand-and footholds. From there it was a simple matter to climb onto the top of the mashrabiya.

  “Your turn,” he called quietly to Corbin.

  “I’ve never done anything like this.” Unease edged the reporter’s voice.

  “Always a first time. Get up here.” Harry resisted the urge to raise his voice. “Now.”

  Apparently Corbin, in spite of his apparent physical fitness, was not athletically inclined. It took him more than one attempt and far longer than it had taken Harry to finally reach the top of the window. Harry pulled up the rope after him.

  “What are you doing?” Horror rang in Corbin’s hushed voice. “How are we going to get down?”

  “The same way we got up,” Harry said sharply. “But if we leave the rope dangling and anyone wanders by or worse, comes out of the door, there will be questions.”

  “Of course. Yes. Sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m not used to this sort of thing.”

  “Apparently.”

  Corbin studied him curiously. “You are though, aren’t you?”

  “Not anymore,” Harry muttered. “Now, all we have to do—”

  A creak sounded beneath them.

  Corbin froze. “What is that?”

  “It’s the door. Quiet!” Harry flattened himself against the wall and—much to Harry’s surprise—Corbin immediately followed suit.

  Beneath the mashrabiya the door slowly creaked open. Thank God for ancient hinges and the lax nature of those responsible for their oiling. The distinct sound of female voices drifted up to them. A moment later four—no—five figures appeared below them. A short man, carrying a large bundle, accompanied a cloaked woman and three others dressed in European fashion but from this angle little could be seen. A nasty suspicion—because surely he was wrong—struck him and was confirmed not more than a moment later.

  “That was certainly interesting.” Lady Blodgett’s distinct voice sounded below them.

  “Quite the adventure I’d say,” a voice that was definitely Mrs
. Higginbotham’s added.

  “I have so much to tell you.” What was surely Sidney’s voice rang with excitement.

  Relief washed through him. Sidney was fine. He had known it all along even if he now realized, somewhere inside him, he hadn’t been completely confident. Without warning it struck him—this could have been truly perilous. Her life could have been at risk. He had refused to think it overly serious for fear that it really was. She could have been in grave danger.

  He could have lost her. His heart clenched at the thought.

  “I say, Armstrong,” Corbin said in an urgent whisper. “Can we get down now? They’re gone.”

  Good Lord! He was in love with the woman! How had something this absurd happened? How ironic. How inconvenient. How...right? Certainly he liked her but... God help him, how was he going to deal with this?

  “Wait another minute,” Harry said absently.

  How had this happened? When did it happen? Certainly not the moment he first met her. No, while he had been surprised by her age and that she was really rather lovely, especially when she smiled, he certainly hadn’t fallen for her then. When she denied her excitement for everything she saw? No, that was definitely annoying. When he’d realized he was indeed right about her? Not that it was difficult. From the beginning she was a bad liar. He liked that about her.

  When he’d first wanted to kiss her?

  “Armstrong?” Corbin waved his hand in front of Harry’s face.

  Harry’s attention jerked to the other man. “What? Oh. Right.” He’d have time later to think about Sidney and feelings. “I’ll go first.”

  Harry threw the rope down and was on the street in no time. Corbin took a little longer but the man seemed to be catching on. They returned to their horses, and headed to the hotel, pausing to discard their robes. They rode back in near silence but it was a short ride and Harry’s thoughts were on other matters. Upon their return, Harry was presented with a note at the front desk from the ladies, succinctly detailing Sidney’s absence starting with an invitation from a princess to her return no more than an hour ahead of Corbin and Harry. There was no mention of the old ladies’ role in this. They had assured him they would not leave the hotel and yet they had merrily done exactly what they wanted. This kind of nonsense would have to stop. Harry passed the note to Corbin.

  Corbin scanned it and shook his head. “Blasted woman was in a harem telling stories for God’s sake. Do you know the kind of stories I’ve been writing since my arrival?”

  “No.” Nor did he care.

  “I might as well have been reporting on the last meeting of the Women’s Co-operative Guild. Or the latest society outing. We’re in Egypt! But there’s been no discovery of a new tomb, no uncovering of an ancient artifact, no locating of lost treasure.”

  “Is that what you expected?” Harry asked mildly.

  “Didn’t you?”

  “I’m not sure what I expected.”

  “Frankly, I did expect more from the Queen of the bloody Desert. The most interesting thing that’s happened thus far was losing the old ladies and even that was insignificant. Her stories are filled with adventure and excitement but this has been no better than an organized tour. I’m beginning to agree with you about her authenticity. Mrs. Gordon’s return to Egypt has been decidedly ordinary. Unless of course...” He brightened. “You’ve found proof that she’s a fraud?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Harry lied. He wasn’t about to tell Corbin about the little discrepancies in Sidney’s story that added up to the truth. Besides he had no choice. Not if he loved her.

  “I didn’t think so.” Corbin shook his head. “According to this—” he waved the note at Harry “—she was answering questions and reading from her book. She was in a harem discussing books? That was it? Do you know what kind of story that is?”

  “Rather charming I’d say.” Or terrifying depending on whether one was cheerfully sipping tea with an Egyptian princess or one was trying not to think what dire fate had befallen someone whose whereabouts were unknown.

  “Charming?” Corbin snorted in disdain. “Readers don’t want charming. Charming doesn’t keep them turning the pages and wanting more. Charming, Armstrong, does not sell newspapers or further careers.” He blew a frustrated breath. “I suppose I can make something out of the harem angle.”

  “The truth is usually a good idea.”

  “The truth, Armstrong, is relative.” Corbin glanced at the door to the Long Bar. “I believe I’ll stop in the bar before going to my room. They don’t allow women in there, do they?”

  “A last bastion, Corbin. Someday they’ll probably even be voting.”

  “God help us,” Corbin muttered and strode across the entrance hall toward the bar.

  As much as the bar was tempting, Harry had no desire to do anything except see Sidney. Ascertain for himself that she was all right.

  And then what?

  Proclaim his feelings? Announce his undying love? Sweep her off her feet?

  Marry the woman?

  Not a bad idea. She did apparently know everything there was to know about Egypt. And she did tell a fairly good story. Not to mention that she was clever and amusing with the most remarkable blue eyes and a kiss that did something unexpected to his senses.

  And it was entirely possible he could no longer live without her.

  By the time he headed for Sidney’s room relief had been swept aside by anger at her irresponsible behavior as well as that of her friends. What were they thinking? Any of them? Whether he wanted to be or not, he did feel responsible for each gray-or white-haired head. He would never forgive himself if something happened to the old ladies. They wouldn’t be here if not for him.

  As for Sidney, apparently it was not enough to protect her from Corbin’s ambition.

  He had to save her from herself.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “...AND WHILE THE princess herself did not speak English, the Lady Hatice had read my book to her and the other ladies of the harem—which is not nearly the kind of place one might have thought it was,” Sidney added and took the opportunity to draw a deep breath. She’d been talking very nearly without pause since she and the ladies had left the residence but she had a great deal to tell them. It had been a delightful day and she did want to share every detail. It would make a splendid new story.

  Effie waved off her comment. “Oh, we know all about harems, dear.”

  “Harry told us,” Poppy added.

  “Where is Harry?” Sidney held her breath. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to see him. She hadn’t spoken to him after they’d returned to the ballroom last night. She hadn’t known what to say and what to say did seem exceptionally important. They had, after all, finally shared a kiss. Oh, it had been a kiss of necessity but a kiss all the same. A kiss that lingered in her mind and produced an odd fluttering in her stomach and made her heart sigh. Even though she had no previous experience it did seem this particular kiss was exceptional and extremely significant. Besides, she was fairly certain he wouldn’t see her visit to a harem the same way she did.

  The ladies looked at each other in a distinctly guilty manner.

  “He went to rescue you,” Gwen said somewhat reluctantly.

  “Daniel insisted,” Poppy added quickly. “We tried to tell him that you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself but he refused to be dissuaded.”

  “Harry was confident in your abilities as well but he couldn’t let Daniel go off on his own.” Effie shrugged. “Who knows what trouble the poor man might have gotten into.”

  “I didn’t need rescue,” Sidney said with a sigh. She should have known something like this would happen when she decided to stay the day with the princess and Lady Hatice and the rest of the ladies. But it did seem an opportunity she could ill afford to pass up. And she had sent a note last night as well as ano
ther today and had assumed all was well.

  “Which we would have known had we received today’s note,” Poppy said.

  Apparently, there was some confusion over her last message, the desk clerk thinking it was for her rather than from her. The mistake was only discovered when Sidney returned to the hotel. Hoping to avoid any further confusion, they left a brief, but thorough, note for Harry.

  “So Harry wasn’t concerned?” Sidney asked in an offhand manner. Not that it mattered really. Although if a man was going to kiss a woman—even out of necessity—in a manner that could only be called passionate and not the least bit necessary, then he really should care about what happens to her.

  “Oh no, dear. Harry was concerned,” Gwen said firmly. “He tried to hide it but it was obvious to all of us that he was just saying what he thought he should to relieve our minds. Even though he did say, according to the information he had, he did not think a rescue was called for.”

  Sidney drew her brows together. “I must say this is rather confusing.”

  “Indeed it is.” Effie huffed, Gwen and Poppy nodded in agreement.

  “But what can you say about men?” Poppy shrugged and the other two mirrored her actions. “They frequently make no sense.”

  “In my experience they never have.” Gwen shook her head, Poppy and Gwen following suit. “And I daresay they never will.”

  A sharp knock sounded at the door. Poppy, Gwen and Effie were all perched on the sofa but Poppy was the closest. She moved to the door and opened it then immediately slammed it shut and flattened her back against it. “It’s Harry.”

  Sidney stared. “Then let him in.”

  Gwen wrinkled her nose. “He’s probably not especially happy.”

  “He was rather adamant about our not leaving the hotel.” Effie winced. “And he might have assumed we had promised as much.”

  “But we didn’t,” Poppy said quickly. “Although he might have thought we did.”