The Rake's Enticing Proposal

by Lara Temple

  Ellie watched Chase, but he had retreated behind his blank façade again.

  ‘Were there books in the package?’

  ‘Not that I am aware of. Perhaps some clippings. He had developed a rather strange habit of cutting sections from his favourite books. When I asked him why, all he would say was that he was exploring a theory. That was one of the books, too.’ He pointed to the book Ellie had rescued from Inky.

  ‘Oh. Have you read it, Mr Mallory?’ Ellie asked, treading carefully. It was just possible that Chase was wrong about Mallory—he certainly appeared intelligent enough to write the Desert Boy books. She rather liked the idea of the mild-mannered secretary harbouring a secret life as a writer of novels.

  ‘I am afraid not, Miss Walsh. My time is often taken up with scholarly journals and histories. In general, I do not see the benefit of squandering my time on fantastical novels, not when I could be using it more productively.’

  Ellie clung to her patience. She hadn’t quite remembered Mr Mallory being so very...dry. ‘Having now seen just a very little of Egypt, I must say I find them impressively accurate and I certainly see nothing wrong with a little fantasy, especially when it is so well written.’

  ‘Perhaps I should make the effort, if you think so highly of them, Miss Walsh.’ Mallory smiled.

  ‘Why don’t you get a start on that now, then, Mallory?’ Chase said, standing up. ‘I don’t want to hurry you along, but Miss Walsh should rest before Jasperot’s ball this evening.’

  ‘Of course, I didn’t mean... I shall see you all there then, I hope?’ Mallory stammered as she stood.

  ‘Probably. But I will come by your hotel tomorrow in any case. I want to speak with you before you return to England.’

  ‘Oh, but I will likely see you in Qetara as well. Mr Carmichael requested my assistance for a couple of weeks. Well, it was lovely to renew our acquaintance, Miss Walsh. I shall see you tonight and pay my respects to Lucas and Samantha as well. Jasperot assures me there will be dancing...’ He cleared his throat. ‘May I request the honour of a dance with you this evening, Miss Walsh?’

  ‘I shall be honoured, Mr Mallory.’ Ellie replied, trying not to smile at his formality and quite pleased to have already secured a dance at what was likely to prove a challenging evening. If only Chase would follow suit and ask her to dance... Perhaps even a waltz... Not that Chase looked like a man interested in dances at the moment.

  The silence as the door shut behind Mallory vibrated with Chase’s antipathy and Ellie waited, a little puzzled. Something had been wrong with Chase the moment he entered the salon. She was wondering how to frame her concern when he turned back to her, his face still a cold mask.

  ‘Mallory may be a friend of the family, but that doesn’t mean you should be alone with him.’

  ‘Why? I’m alone with you now.’

  ‘That is different.’

  He sounded so dismissive, as if no one in their right mind would suspect him of having designs on her. ‘It most certainly is,’ she snapped right back. ‘I am convinced he at least has a pristine reputation.’

  Chase snarled something and sat down on the mastaba, flexing his hands on his trousers. Inky came and stretched out between them, her tail curled over Ellie’s thigh and her paw cuffing Chase’s hand. Without looking Chase began dutifully scratching Inky’s head and all of Ellie’s hurt bled away.

  ‘Is something wrong, Chase? Did you discover something with Lord Sinclair?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘No. We went to see some acquaintances. Nothing related to Huxley.’

  ‘Oh. Were you hoping Mr Mallory might have something more conclusive to say? I don’t think you should give up hope until you see the contents of the trunk. It was clearly very important to Lord Huxley that it reach you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  She waited for something further, but he was wholly engrossed in Inky.

  ‘I admit I think you are right in your assessment that he is not the author,’ she continued and he finally looked up, still with the same edge of mockery she did not understand.

  ‘Of course he isn’t. Mallory might be a scholar, but he is as unimaginative as your beloved Arthur Whelford. And I doubt it took all that determined flirting to ascertain as much.’

  For a moment the absurdity of his accusation struck her speechless. Then, like a knife breaking skin, it sank through.

  ‘I was not flirting.’

  ‘No? It certainly looked like flirting.’

  ‘As an expert you would know, of course.’

  ‘Precisely. I realise Mallory embodies all the virtues you hold dear, but I suggest you pace yourself with him. Unless he has changed a great deal in the past few years, he is unaccustomed to the press-gang methods you developed as head of the Walsh clan.’

  ‘That is a hateful thing to say, Mr Sinclair.’ Ellie surged to her feet. For the first time she felt the impossible miles between her and Whitworth. She wished she was back there—where she knew how to face the world and at least her heart had been safe. She turned and strode towards the door before she did or said or revealed anything she shouldn’t.

  ‘Ellie! God, I’m sorry. That was low of me. Please don’t be angry.’

  He caught her hand, turning her, his palm cupping her cheek. It took every ounce of her strength not to lean into that warmth of his hand, capture it and not let go.

  ‘I’m not,’ she replied foolishly, closing her eyes hard.

  His laugh didn’t sound amused and he took his hand away, but before she could lament its loss his arms went around her, gathering her against him, her breasts flattening against the hard surface of his chest. She breathed in, filling with the scent of warm musky skin and that magical essence that was at the core of her dreams since their meeting in the Folly.

  She shuddered, a small cry of defeat rising out of her, and his arms tightened, his mouth brushing her temple, his breath grazing her cheek, the corner of her mouth, taunting her to turn and close the circle and kiss him. She might have done just that if he hadn’t spoken, his voice low and harsh.

  ‘Ellie, don’t listen to me. I have no right.’

  She was free again and he was halfway across the room when the door opened and Sam entered.

  ‘There you are, Ellie. Samira brought up your gown and we want to see if the alterations she made will do for tonight.’

  Ellie managed a smile at Sam.

  ‘Your gown, you mean. There really was no need...’

  Sam rolled her eyes.

  ‘I haven’t worn half the gowns Olivia commissioned for me from Madame Fanchot and I doubt I shall any time soon. If I had my way, I would be back in the same cotton robes I wore as a child. They were so much more comfortable in the Egyptian climate.’

  ‘When we reach Bab el-Nur you can find an aba and kamis and be comfortable again,’ Chase replied.

  For the hundredth time Ellie watched his features soften as he spoke with his little sister and not for the first time she felt resentment pinch at her insides. Not that she wanted Chase to regard her as a little sister—far from it. What she wanted was quite, quite different. And quite, quite foolish.

  She’d reached the door when he spoke.

  ‘Miss Walsh?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Sinclair?’

  ‘You will save a dance for me as well, I hope?’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jasperot’s palace was one of the finest examples of Mameluke grandeur in Cairo. It stood on the eastern side of the city not far from the famed Citadel, only a tall earthen wall and a few stunted hills separating it from Cairo’s cemetery, the City of the Dead. Many palaces closer to the river surrounded their homes with lush gardens, but Jasperot’s was different—it was built as an homage to the Abbasid-style mosque Ibn Tulun, with the living and entertaining quarters surrounding a large inner courtyard lined with arched arca
des.

  In the centre of the courtyard, instead of Ibn Tulun’s dome-covered sebil and water basin was an enormous and incongruous Roman fountain, with bucking horses and spear-touting warriors, their near-naked bodies glistening under the drizzle of water.

  Right now that outrageous fountain was a backdrop for something much more offensive as far as Chase was concerned.

  To a disinterested party the man leaning solicitously over the young woman dressed in an elegant gown of pale-peach satin only added to the magic of the setting. But Chase was far from disinterested and it took every ounce of will not to stride over and physically intercede between Mallory and Ellie.

  He would do nothing of the sort, of course. He’d already made enough of a fool of himself in the afternoon. His only excuse for fumbling so badly was that he wasn’t accustomed to jealousy. He’d certainly never expected it to strike here, when he finally had her safe and secure in Egypt and ready to embark on the next stage of their adventure.

  He’d come looking for her that afternoon to tell her about the dahabiya Hamid had arranged for the trip to Qetara, imagining her pleasure with the slow voyage up the Nile on the brightly painted flat-bottomed ship, watching this new world unfold. They would make good time to Qetara, which was just south of Beni Hasan, and after a short stay at Bab el-Nur, where he hoped they could settle Huxley’s riddle once and for all, they would continue upriver—to see Karnak and the wonders of Edfu and Abydos and Abu Simbel...

  The shock of seeing her smiling so charmingly at Mallory had been bad enough. But hearing the two of them discuss him behind his back moved him far too swiftly from surprise to antagonism without a sensible thought in between.

  He was trying, hard, to shake off that juvenile reaction. To stick to his plans. It didn’t help that she looked so lovely now in her borrowed dress of a shimmering colour between honeysuckle and pale peach and with the silver spray of the fountain behind her making the air around her vibrate like the sky around a sunset. He wanted to take her somewhere, alone, and lay his hopes and fears bare and...

  He cut his mawkish thoughts short and went to stand by the arcades. In the far corner of the courtyard a small orchestra was playing courtly music that would have been at home in any European ballroom, but beyond the walls behind him Chase could hear the rumble of drums from other festivities—a wedding perhaps. There would be lute-like ouds and other instruments but all he could make out was the rapid, hollow beat of darbuka drums.

  In another life he would have turned and left this stolid parade of local and foreign dignitaries and prowled the dark streets, catching glimpses of those other lives and stopping for sweet mint-infused tea in the cafes. Ellie would probably enjoy seeing that side of Cairo. If only...

  Perhaps it would be wise to leave anyway.

  ‘For someone with so little experience in the role you do a marvellous impersonation of a jealous lover, Chase,’ Lucas said, coming to lean on the pillar beside him.

  Chase’s tension rose a notch. Any higher and he’d probably disintegrate into a thousand blazing shards of frustrated fury.

  ‘Go dance with your wife, Luke.’

  Lucas considered the couple on the other side of the fountain.

  ‘Or perhaps you are quite content to have someone intercede and capture her attention and save you from your baser instincts. Are you beginning to regret choosing a gently bred woman you lust after as Sam’s companion? If so, you will be pleased to hear I offered Mallory a place on the dahabiya tomorrow.’

  ‘What? Lucas, you didn’t!’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I have? He needs to return to Qetara as well. This is Mallory, Chase. He’s known us since we were grubby boys.’

  ‘I don’t care if he gave us sweetmeats when we skinned our knees, blast you. The last thing I need is to have a younger replica of her ideal invited on board.’

  ‘Her ideal?’

  ‘Do you know who her first love was?’

  ‘Some mythical paragon, by the sound of it.’

  ‘No, I could have coped with that. Arthur Whelford.’

  ‘Arthur...as in George’s brother? Arthur Whelford, the vicar? You cannot be serious. He was old enough to be her father.’

  ‘Precisely. Her own father was a wastrel—a gambler and a rake who drowned in a puddle during a drunken stupor and left his family deep in debt. Whelford was the kind of man who helped her plan her kitchen garden because he knew he was dying and she would have to assume responsibility for her siblings’ future.’

  ‘Chase, I know love can addle one’s brain, believe me, but you have officially taken leave of your senses. If there is anyone who can succeed in setting one’s affairs on the right path, it is you.’

  ‘That isn’t what she wants. She wants what was denied her and everything Whelford symbolised—a home, stability, safety... And even you must admit those are not my strong suits.’

  Lucas threw up his hands.

  ‘Did she tell you she wanted any of these things? For someone who is yearning only for home and hearth she does a fantastic show of being as excited about adventure as Sam ever was.’

  Chase tried to ease the tension out of his shoulders. He didn’t want to have this conversation, but he couldn’t stop.

  ‘Yes, this is an adventure for her, but eventually she will yearn for home. She needs someone like Mallory.’

  ‘Mallory. My God, are you actually contemplating arranging that for her? I take back what I said—this is not taking leave of your senses. This is crushing them underfoot, roasting them on a fire and feeding them to the jackals.’

  Chase turned away from the incredulity in his brother’s voice and focused on the statues flanking the arches—dark granite figures of the lion goddess Sekhmet looking kindly but rather sternly down at the human folly being played out beneath her.

  ‘It’s killing me.’ Even he could hear the pain, the confusion. He tried to recover his equilibrium. ‘But I want what is best for her. The worst thing is that someone like Mallory is probably better for her than I will ever be.’

  ‘Hmmm. According to the little you told me, this woman singlehandedly kept her family afloat for years despite Fergus Walsh’s best attempts to destroy them, then entered into two charades to further her ends, one of them involving standing up to Aunt Ermy and the other travel to a foreign and potentially dangerous locale with a man she knows possesses a dubious reputation. In addition to which she managed to overcome Sam’s resistance and to endear herself to my all-too-suspicious Livvy. Do you really believe someone like her would prefer prim and proper Mallory?’

  ‘Her father...’

  ‘Is dead and apparently good riddance. Even if she thinks she wants an antidote to her untrustworthy sire, so what? One of your most valued skills for Oswald was always that you could see beyond what people thought they wanted to what they ought to want. You certainly did in my case. And in Sam’s. Why don’t you try some of your medicine on yourself?’

  Chase considered saying something about overbearing older siblings, but Lucas was already striding off so he returned to glaring at Ellie and Mallory instead. She was smiling, but as Chase forced his mind to separate from his heart he could see what Lucas did.

  Ellie in love and loved should be one long ‘oh, look’ moment, but there was no hint of wonder on her face. She looked very much as she had during those dinners at the Manor—polite, amused, attentive...distant. Eleanor, not Ellie. She might think she would be safer as Eleanor, but she wasn’t. Safety could be as much a prison as uncertainty.

  Mallory would probably never even realise Ellie existed.

  Ellie was his.

  He moved towards them as the musicians began the first flourishes of the next dance.

  ‘My dance,’ he announced and Mallory blinked, but bowed with a smile.

  ‘We can continue this discussion in Qetara, Miss Walsh. Meanwhile, I look forward to
our dance later.’

  Chase locked his jaw against the atavistic urge to make it as clear as pain that Ellie was out of bounds.

  ‘What discussion? Why is Mallory arranging assignations with you?’

  ‘Mr Mallory merely promised to show me his copy of Description de L’Egypte which he left in Qetara. That is hardly an assignation, Mr Sinclair.’

  ‘A fine excuse,’ he scoffed.

  ‘It isn’t! He said there is a drawing there of what you called the White Desert. I expressed an interest in seeing it and he is merely being obliging. I think he is trying to atone for his dismissal of the Desert Boy books.’

  ‘You cannot possibly be that naïve. In less than a day the man has done everything short of writing a poem to your left eyebrow while you were smiling at him as if he has just discovered a new pyramid and laid it at your feet.’

  ‘I was not!’

  She looked a little stunned at his accusation and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious at the surprise on her face.

  ‘It looked like that from here. And if you think... Where are you going?’ he demanded as she turned away.

  ‘To find someone who won’t ruin my first-ever ball. And if you don’t wish to dance with me, you have only to say so.’

  * * *

  Ellie regretted walking away within three steps, but pride kept her moving. She passed through the arches where the warm breeze ran close to the ground, tugging at the hems of her skirt like a playful wave.

  She had been so looking forward to Chase asking her to dance—a chance to gather another memory of his closeness for the treasure chest that was to last her a lifetime. Instead, within two days of arriving in Egypt they were fighting. The bittersweet friendship that grew in Huxley’s study felt far away, a dream already fading in the light of day. Tomorrow they would depart for Qetara and once he found Huxley’s package he might leave them altogether and disappear on another of those quests he performed for his uncle.