Lucien shrugged. “A tale for another day. But tell me, those horses you brought with you—you do not plan to ride off into the desert with your bride?”
“Ah, no. They are for Julia’s brother. Her bride price.” He grinned at the look on Lucien’s face. “And there is a story here. The stallion is descended from the stallion my father offered as my mother’s bride price, a stallion he received as a gift from the sultan’s own stable. And the mare is the pride of my grandfather’s own breeding. Will Julia’s brother understand what he is being given?”
“My God, if he doesn’t, he is ten thousand times a fool! I can name you a dozen Frenchmen who would give a king’s ransom for such horses. And Julia does not speak of her brother as if he is a fool.”
David smiled, almost to himself. “I did not think so. But I have something to say to you. When you were teaching the ladies Arabic, you seem to have gone a bit beyond polite phrases.”
“I do not think…” Then he remembered a day when they had been riding over a barren mountainside that seemed to go on forever. David had been in conference with Lord and Lady Penworth, and he and the young women had been a bit bored. The memory made him flush slightly. “I told them how colorful some of the Arabic insults could be. It was only a joke. Surely she would not have said anything like that to your family.”
“No,” agreed David. “She would never do that. Instead she flung those insults at her captors, much to my grandfather’s delight. Her courage won him over.” Then David’s smile faded. “She said that you had told them never to say such things, that insults like that could get them killed.” He looked straight at Lucien. “Not much of a joke, eh? Especially when that is why she said them. My grandfather underestimated her courage. She wanted to provoke her captors to kill her. She would rather have died than be a slave.”
Lucien said nothing. What could he say?
David looked back at his bride. “I could not deal with her captors as I would have liked because she would have seen. But if anyone endangers her again, I will kill him. I will keep her safe. I swear it.”
It had been amusing to teach the proper English ladies insulting Arab curses. At least, it had seemed amusing at the time, a little joke. Perhaps it had not been a very good joke though, not if it had actually endangered Lady Julia. He had never considered that possibility.
Now all Lucien could think of was the hours when he was searching for Emily, not knowing where she was, if she was alive or dead. And then when the pirates had been shooting… Yes, he knew precisely what David meant. He looked over to where Emily sat with her mother and Julia. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. Not as elegant as her mother, perhaps, and not as porcelain perfect as Lady Julia, but beautiful with all the joy of life in her. Yes, he would protect her with his life.
“…so our children will know where they come from.”
Lucien realized David had been speaking while he had not been listening. “Forgive me. My thoughts were wandering.”
David smiled tolerantly. “I was saying that we may settle in England. Lord Penworth thinks there will be employment for me in the foreign office, and he tells me that with the backing of Lady Penworth and that of Julia’s brother, it should not be too difficult socially. But we will visit here often, I think. My family approves of Julia, the women like her, and she likes my family. And it is important, I think, for our children to know all aspects of their heritage.”
“I wish that Lord Penworth approved of me.” Lucien could hear the resentful note in his voice, but he had been unable to prevent it. When he saw the startled look on David’s face, he managed a twisted grin and a shrug.
“He does not approve of you? But why? Surely your birth is high enough. After all, he did not disapprove of me as a husband for Lady Julia.”
“It is a matter of my birth only insofar as he thinks I have been evading my responsibilities.” Lucien shrugged again. “And perhaps I have. It must be confessed that I never conceived of having responsibilities as Lord Penworth does.”
There was a flutter of draperies and flounces on the other side of the room where the women were preparing to leave.
“Excuse me,” said David, springing to his feet, “but it is time for me to withdraw.” He flashed a grin at Lucien and ignored the tide of laughter and joking remarks rose from the cousins. Julia was barely through the door when he followed after her. The other women were also leaving.
Lucien watched Emily disappear through the door to the women’s quarters and felt very much alone.
Twenty-five
They were not going to remain in Mesopotamia one minute longer than necessary, Lord Penworth announced the next morning at breakfast. Lady Penworth, who was the only one present to hear him, nodded agreeably. Her husband scowled.
“I mean it, Anne,” he said. “There is nothing in this godforsaken desert that is of the slightest interest to England, and I have no intention of putting my family at further risk because Colonel Chesney has a bee in his bonnet about running a railway through here. Telegrams are making the mails irrelevant for urgent messages. And as for moving troops in a hurry, which I suspect is the real concern, it makes far more sense, and will be far cheaper, to put a decent steamship on the Red Sea to travel to and from Suez. They are building a canal there, and even if they weren’t, there’s a railway from Suez to Alexandria, and that’s all that’s needed.”
“I entirely agree, my dear. And I know you thought so before we ever left England, and you would not have made this trip if I had not urged it on you. It is very good of you to be so accommodating.” She took a sip from the small cup of strong Turkish coffee and grimaced. “You know, I have tried to develop a taste for Turkish coffee, but I greatly prefer the bowl of milky coffee that the French serve for breakfast. I look forward to having it again, with one of those nice buttery croissants.” She put the cup aside. “Now what were we talking about? Oh yes, our departure.”
“Yes, my dear, our imminent departure. Now, how long do you think it will take you to have everything packed?”
“Oh, not long, not long at all. A matter of days, I imagine. However, there are a few things that must be considered.”
He sighed. “What sort of things?”
“First of all, I assume Julia and David will be traveling with us.”
“Naturally. Married or not, I have an obligation to see Julia safely home. Doncaster would hardly thank me for abandoning his sister in a place where women get kidnapped.”
“Well, there is the matter of Julia’s wedding. I’m sure she and David are married in the eyes of God and all that, but I am not at all sure that an Arab wedding in the desert is considered a legal wedding in England. And I am quite certain it will not be considered a proper wedding by English society. Certainly not a proper wedding for the sister of an earl.”
Lord Penworth looked glum. “Can’t they just have another wedding when we get home?” he asked, suspecting that there was some reason his wife would consider this perfectly reasonable solution unacceptable.
“Really, dear.” She shook her head pityingly at him. “It will take us easily a month to get home, and more time than that to arrange a London wedding. What if their first child is born eight months after that? They will have enough problems without the added gossip. And Doncaster will hardly thank us for providing his sister with more difficulties.”
“Surely people would not be so…” His voice trailed off at the look on his wife’s face. Apparently people would. “Well then, what do you propose?”
“Well, David has said that his parents live in Cairo. There is a good-sized English community there, so I am certain we will be able to arrange a wedding with sufficient pomp. David must notify his parents immediately, and I will write as well, so preparations can begin even before we arrive. We must also send a telegram to Elinor and Doncaster giving them the news. Letters will arrive in London long before we do, so we can prepare the ground for the newlyweds, so to speak, and there will be time for Elino
r and Doncaster to arrange a celebratory ball for them.”
Penworth felt relieved. This was far less complicated than he had feared.
However, his wife had not finished. “Then there is M. de Chambertin,” she said.
That deserved a renewed scowl. “What about him?”
“I expect that he will wish to travel with us. Don’t you think so?”
He grunted dismissively. “He’s been traveling about by himself for years, it seems. I can’t imagine why he would suddenly need us to protect him.”
“It is not that he needs protection,” she said patiently. “It is that he wishes to marry our daughter, and I do not think they intend to be parted unnecessarily. If you attempt to play the cruel father, he is enough of a romantic to take it into his head to carry Emily off. And while she may be a very practical girl, she is also sufficiently in love to agree.”
“What utter rot.” He scowled at the bowl of yogurt in front of him and thought that he would be quite happy to never see yogurt on his breakfast table again. “Damn. Very well, he can come with us.”
Lady Penworth smiled her approval and ate a spoonful of her yogurt. “You know, I think he is not quite so irresponsible as you seem to think. After all, he worked very well with us the other day, and you cannot deny that he quickly saw the best way to rescue Emily. You might talk to him about his grandfather.”
*
Emily and Lucien were on the roof once more, this time in the early morning. Mist was still floating over the river but above it the air was clear. Should they have chosen to look to the east, they could have seen sun rising over the hill of Kouyunjik, silhouetting the huts in which the finds from the excavation were stored. They did not look that way. They looked only at each other.
There had not been any explicit arrangement to meet here, but neither was surprised to see the other. This was, after all, the one spot in the house where privacy could be found, at least occasionally, and they were delighted to take advantage of it. After several minutes, or perhaps longer—it is to be confessed that neither was paying attention to a clock—Lucien sighed as he nuzzled her neck. He drew back and said, “I am going to go mad, you know.”
She gave a small displeased sigh of her own. “Don’t stop.”
“I must stop now if I am to stop at all. It is, as I told you, a rule about your father’s roof.”
But his arms were still around her, and she held fistfuls of his shirt. “I could point out that we are not under my father’s roof. We are on top of it.”
“Ah, you are a creature most dangerous,” he said with a strangled laugh. He stepped back and detached her hands from his shirt. “I must convince your father of my virtues so that he decides I am a man of responsibility.”
She tilted her head and looked at him consideringly. “We could elope.”
“Run off and ask the grandfather of David to arrange an Arab wedding for us as well? No, no, you would not like that. It would cause your parents great pain, and one does not do that to those one loves. And me, I would feel shamed to fulfill your papa’s worst fears about me, for he is a man I greatly admire. No, I must convince him that I can live up to his expectations.”
“Very well. If you insist, we will go down and join my parents for breakfast and I will be a dutiful and obedient daughter, and you can be a proper aspiring suitor.” She started for the staircase, then looked back with a wicked grin. “But perhaps you should tuck your shirt back into your trousers first.”
*
Lady Penworth looked up at their entrance and smiled. “There you are, children. Do join us. We are discussing plans for our return. M. de Chambertin, may I assume that you will wish to accompany us?”
Lucien, who had appeared nervous despite the neatness of his attire, now looked relieved, but it was Emily who said, “Naturally.”
Lord Penworth’s side-whiskers seemed to quiver disgruntledly, but his growled greeting was almost neutral.
As she carefully chose a date from the dish before her, Lady Penworth remarked, “We will have to decide what to do about the Carnacs”—her husband growled less neutrally—“but that discussion should include the Oliphants.”
The mention of the Carnacs brought a flush of shame to Lucien’s face, but Lady Penworth leaned over to pat his hand. “You must not blame yourself, Lucien—may I call you Lucien?”
“But of course,” he stammered.
She smiled kindly. “You must not blame yourself. I’m sure you had no idea that Mélisande had become infatuated with you. Young men pay very little attention to the fantasies of young girls, and I doubt that you needed to do anything other than exist to make you the hero of her daydreams. After all, you are probably the first attractive young man she has ever met, and then you are French as well.” She waved her hand. “But that will be dealt with later. Just now, Phillip, why don’t you take Lucien with you and decide how we should travel and all that sort of thing. Emily and I have some plans to make as well.” She bestowed a brilliant smile on her husband.
Lord Penworth chuckled as he rose. “Come along, Chambertin. We are being managed. You had best grow accustomed to it.”
As she watched them disappear in the direction of Lord Penworth’s office, Emily wondered what plans, precisely, her mother had in mind. She took a deep breath and turned to face whatever it was.
The first thing she was faced with was a sheaf of paper along with writing implements. “We need to make lists, or we are sure to overlook something,” said Lady Penworth.
Ha! thought Emily. When was the last time her mother had overlooked anything she did not choose to overlook?
Ignoring her daughter’s sniff, she walked back and forth under the loggia. “First, we need to prepare for Julia’s wedding. David should, I think, send a telegram as well as write to his parents. Julia must write to them as well, of course, and I will write suggesting that we have the wedding there.”
Emily looked up. “But they are already married.”
Lady Penworth gave her daughter an appropriately silly child look. “A desert wedding will make an excellently romantic tale to tell their children. It will hardly suffice for the sister of an earl and a man with a career to make in the foreign office. Since Cairo is where his parents live, it is a perfectly acceptable venue for their wedding. His parents will know who should be invited, and I will write to the consul-general as well to discover if there are any visitors of importance at the moment. Do you know who holds that post at present? Never mind, your father will know.”
Emily noted down Write to Oliphants, consul-general.
“We must write to Elinor about the guest list for the ball to celebrate Julia’s wedding. I wonder if it would be best held in London or at Doncaster Abbey?” Lady Penworth frowned in consideration, tapping her cheek. “London will be better for the foreign office people, but people may have left London by the time we return.”
“Perhaps you could let Elinor decide. She is quite good at being a society hostess.”
Lady Penworth shook her head. “Elinor may not know all the people it will be important to invite. The queen and Prince Albert will decline, of course, but the Princess Royal and Frederick may come if they are in England. She has always been friendly to Elinor. And then I will write to friends, letting them know so they can in turn rally support.”
“Really, Mama, you are talking as if this is a military campaign.” Emily huffed a little laugh.
Her mother did not smile. Instead she frowned. “That is precisely what it is. David is an outsider, and Julia has had problems. It will require effort to make them accepted in society.”
“But you don’t even know if they want to be accepted by society—by the stuffy kind of society that cares about things like whether or not the Princess Royal attends a party.”
Lady Penworth paused in her pacing and looked steadily at her daughter. “You know better than that. No matter what you may think of the people who make up society—and I will readily agree that many of them are fo
ols—their acceptance is important to both David and Julia, and it will matter to their children. If he chooses to make a career in the foreign office, he will need to be accepted as one of them. And Julia—you know how much her mother’s scandal has weighed on her. If they later decide to withdraw from society, that is one thing. To be excluded is something else entirely.”
Emily’s doubt obviously showed on her face, because her mother exclaimed impatiently, “Think, child. You have always been protected by the power of your father’s position. Not only is he a marquess, but he is respected because he has always behaved honorably. People want his support, and if not that, at least they do not want to offend him. You are no longer a child. You are going to be plunged into French society by virtue of Lucien’s position, and you will need to help him establish himself. Do not delude yourself that it will be easy.”
It cannot possibly be as difficult as Mama is making it sound. There must be an easier way to handle this. Then Emily smiled innocently at her mother. “But we have a wonderfully romantic tale to tell, don’t we? Like something out of the Thousand and One Nights. Handsome sheiks, horses galloping over the desert sands, bazaars full of silks and spices, the sun rising over the ruins of ancient civilizations.”
“Yes,” said her mother with a touch of acid in her tone. “We will not need to mention the dirt, the insects, the Kurds who find it amusing to shoot at strangers, and the ease with which a child can hire murderers.”
“But surely the tale of dramatic rescue will only add to the romance.” Emily’s eyes were now dancing with glee. “And think how much more impressive it will be if it is two rescues and two weddings.”
“No.” Lady Penworth spoke with finality. “There will be no accounts of rescues. I am sure all the young ladies of London delight in such stories between the covers of a book. I do not intend for my daughters to be the focus of such tales when they are whispered over the tea cups. Then it is no longer a tale, it is simply salacious gossip. I am quite serious, Emily. This is not to be discussed outside the family. You will have to save the tale of your romantic rescue for your grandchildren.”
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